“As you know, Lucky Strike is rumored to reside in Haunted Hollow.”
“Correction, it’s not a rumor. It’s a whisper. No one’s ever found him.”
Anita tapped the screen. “Until now.”
I perked up. “What do you mean?”
Anita inhaled deeply. She was putting on her font-of-wisdom attitude. She wore it like a clean pair of panties—with pride. “Ever since the team was born, it’s always been a goal to get Lucky Strike. This”—her voice rose to a pleasant, throaty timbre—“should not be news to you. Ever since our induction, Strike has always been a target.”
“Yeah, ever since he took credit for the blackout that took out half the Southeast.”
“Right,” she said, squeezing her fists with what appeared to be delight. “And now intel is that he is in Haunted Hollow.” Anita pointed one long coffin-shaped fingernail at a column of paperwork on her desk. She swiveled toward me. “That’s your file, Blissful. Most of it’s from the Peet case. I’m getting pressure, a lot of pressure to fire you. But I won’t do that. You’re too valuable. Too much of an asset.”
I think she meant too much of apainin the asset. That’s what I’d been to Anita ever since she made director. Not that I did anything intentionally. It was in the narrow, slitted gaze she always gave me. The condescending tone she used when we spoke.
I wasn’t the one who was so insecure about my job. She was.
I raked my fingers through my hair. “What are you saying?”
She took a deep inhale, inflating her bosom to twice their silicone size.
“Blissful, you’re suspended.”
I couldn’t deal with that.
My heart popped out of my chest and hit the floor with a thud. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Then Anita, the woman who had bested me for my dad’s job by sleeping with his superior, who spoke to me like I was three years old, who had the audacity to put a picture of her with my father on her desk, slowly opened her mouth and enunciated every single syllable.
“Blissful. You. Are. Suspended.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to a thin line like she was the one who was so freaking irritated. No one was taking away her life, much less her livelihood.
Her eyelids popped open. “I’ve got the paperwork already filled out. You are now officially not a member of the Ghost Team. You have been suspended.”
I stopped myself from doubling over. Tears threatened to prick my eyes. I gnashed it all down. I could get through this. There had to be a way. All I’d ever wanted in life was to continue my father’s work, to help spirits float right on over to the other side.
Heck, I’d been on the team since I was eighteen. I didn’t have any other skills. If I tried to get a job, what the heck would I do?CouldI do? Nothing. I could do absolutely nothing.
The realization that I was worthless to the economy of my country and a liability to myself stung almost as bad as having to bear Anita’s superiority complex.
My world was crashing down on me. There was nothing I could do except rise. I stood, towering over her.
“So that’s it?” It had really only been a matter of time before she found something that was good enough to punish me with. Anita hated me. I was her competition. Didn’t she get it? She’d won the popularity contest and owned the director’s chair.
“I’ll appeal,” I said. “I’ve been in this business a long time.”
“No,” she snapped, “you won’t. I’m your director. Listen, Blissful, I know you don’t like me. I get it. I took your job. I’m not the enemy,” she said soothingly. “That’s not me. I’m your friend. That’s why I’m giving you a chance to earn your place back on the team. I want you here. You only have to do one thing.”
“What’s that?” I tamped down the hope rising in my chest.
“I’m sending you to Haunted Hollow to bring in Lucky Strike.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding? We’ve tried. We’ve all tried. He can’t be found. He doesn’t want to be found.”
Anita hitched one shoulder. “Those are the terms. Bring him in and I’ll lift your suspension. You can rejoin the team. Walk away and your suspension becomes permanent.”
