Happy smirked. “We’ll talk about that later. Go to bed, Avery. You’re coming down from an adrenalin rush. You’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep, doll. Trust me. Oh, turn on the television, will you?”
I picked up the remote and turned on a movie channel before tossing it on the couch. I should have asked a lot of questions of the unknown woman standing in my apartment who didn’t belong there, but I was fucking exhausted.
Plus, thoughts of Holden Rose still had me distracted.
What I really needed was to go to sleep without dreams of him dancing through my head. It was all too much.
My alarm sounded at seven on Saturday morning, just like clockwork. I went through the normal routine of shaving,brushing my teeth, and showering. I had an ugly bruise and a scab on the left side of my forehead, which reminded me of the fucked-up car situation.
After I dressed in some warm sweats, I went to the kitchen to make coffee while I figured out what to do about Brooke’s car.
“God, what a cluster fuck.”
“Call Holden Rose. He seemed like a capable guy. He even offered to drive you out there. I bet he can help you figure it out.”
I dropped the coffee pod and spun around, seeing a beautiful young woman with long golden-brown hair that hung to her waist. She was wearing a fashionable tracksuit and a pair of white sneakers, and she was truly beautiful.
“Who are you?” I reached into a drawer and pulled out the first thing I touched which was...a paring knife. How the hell did one threaten an intruder with a paring knife? I confidently thrust it forward anyway. “Stay back. I... How’d you get in here?”
That’s when it came back to me. Her name was Happy—what kind of name was that?—and she’d been in the apartment when I got home the previous night. It wasn’t a stupid dream like I’d told myself.
“You’ll figure it out, doll. How’s your head?”
I’d removed the gauze and tape sometime during the night because it itched like crazy.
I did have a dull headache, but it was better than when I went to bed. I went to the cabinet over the sink and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen.
“Little bit of a headache. Are you a figment of my imagination or a hallucination caused by this bump on my head?”
Happy giggled, which sounded like bells ringing. “No. You’re not hallucinating, Avery, and I’m not a figment of your imagination. I’m as real as any other spirit. That bump on your head seems to have jarred something that made it so you couldalso see me. I’m the voice in your head that you can’t turn off, and I’ve been around for years. You just couldn’t see me.”
Wtf?“How... You said you’re a spirit. What’s that mean?”
Happy put her hands on her hips. “Think about it, for crap’s sake.” She clapped her hands in a rapid fashion to emphasize her next words. “What is a spirit? Think Jacob Marley.”
Jacob Marley? Was he one of Bob’s sons? Oh! That Christmas movie.
“You mean from ‘A Christmas Carol’? You’re haunting me to try to change my mean ways and get me to spread my wealth? I hate to tell you, but I don’t have any money. Every penny I make that doesn’t cover the rent and utilities goes back into our marketing business.”
Happy rolled her eyes. “Yes and no. See, I’m not sure how much to tell you without you freaking out.”
That right there freaked me out. “Look, maybe tell me what I did to have you haunt me.”
“I wouldn’t call it haunting, exactly. I have a vested interest in making sure you make the most of your second... chance... iiin ... liiiiffffe.” I had no idea why she suddenly broke into song.
“Just tell me whatever it is.”
“I’m disappointed. I thought you’d be more into playing a guessing game.” She sat down on the kitchen table and crossed her arms.
Something occurred to me. We’d never met before. How did she know things about me? Did she try to steal my identity? “How’d you know I got a second chance in life? Do you know—how much do you know about me?”
“I know your name is Avery Randall Langhorn. Your middle name is that of your maternal grandfather who died right before you were born. I know you just broke up with that jerk, Devin. You think your mother is exactly like your grandmotherElizabeth, and you don’t want to start looking for an apartment yet.” She swung her legs like a kid.
The coffee maker sputtered to an end, and I opened the fridge to get the half and half. “Man, that’s something I really miss about being dead. I lived on coffee.” She gave the air a big sniff.
“So, you’re a ghost, then?” Lord, had I been roofied? When the hell would that have happened?
“Yes, but I prefer spirit, thank you. I was killed in an accident.”
