Falling for the Ghost of You Read online

  It's actually much harder work than it sounds. I'm pretty much running to get everything done in time. Each resident has a schedule they strictly adhere to, and I never hear the end of it if I don't get to their room in time. The old guys don't care as much, but the ladies—they ride their call buttons if you're even a few minutes late.

  I love it there, though, and I love all my old people. Once you work a schedule out and learn everyone's routines, it gets easier. I worked there last summer and on the weekends during school, so I got to know those guys pretty well. I missed them, and I should have visited sooner, but time kind of got away from me.

  I wonder if we got any new residents, and I try not to think about the ones we might have lost.

  When I get home, I check the garage for Zane's car. It's not there, of course. I don't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

  I decide that a long hot shower is just the thing to make me nice and sleepy. I gather up my things and head to Zane's room.

  As always, I resist the urge to snoop around. Like me, he's not much for decorating. His room contains the basics, no personal touches or pictures. He has a very expensive-looking laptop sitting on his desk, but no sign of any other computer equipment. I would think that a software engineer would have all kinds of high tech crap everywhere. But then how many software engineers do I know—especially ones that look like Zane?

  Well, at least he's not a slob. Hey. I wonder what's in his closet?

  Feeling brave, I take a quick peek. Hmm...lots of clothes, shoes, a set of weight—oh, it smells great in here, like some kind of spicy woodsy cologne.

  I think I hear the door, and jump about a mile. It turns out to be nothing but my paranoia. I hurry into the bathroom, anyway.

  The shower was a great idea. I get out feeling sleepy and relaxed. I put on my favorite pink tank top and matching pajama pants, then I use my bathroom to brush my teeth, and I am done.

  Okay, time to hit the sack.

  I lie down on my bed, but I can't get comfortable. I hate it when I know I have to be somewhere in the morning, and I need to get a good night's rest for it. The anticipation usually keeps me tossing and turning for hours.

  This isn't working. I decide to get up. I am kind of hungry, so maybe a snack would help.

  That's one good thing about living here: the kitchen is always well-stocked. Zane is hardly here, but someone's been keeping the fridge and cupboards full of healthy crap. I've been buying some junk food and TV dinners, but I haven't really touched it. It just occurs to me that I've been eating out a lot lately. No wonder my clothes have been fitting me kind of tight. I'll have to put a stop to that. Maybe I should start dancing again. That was great exercise.

  I've got my heard buried in the fridge, waiting for something delicious to jump out and hit me in the mouth, when I hear a noise behind me.

  I give a little yelp and whirl around, my heart going into overdrive.

  Somehow, it beats even faster when I see Zane standing there, leaning forward against the counter, resting his forearms along the top. He looks a little tired, but impossibly handsome in his fitted black shirt and jeans.

  “Hey, Violet,” he says, nodding at me. “What are you up to?”

  “N-nothing,” I stammer, caught off guard. I quickly straighten and shut the refrigerator door. “I was just looking for a snack before I went to bed.”

  “Bed already?” He raises an eyebrow and checks the time on the microwave. “It’s nine o’ clock on a Friday night.”

  “Yeah, well, I work tomorrow,” I explain. When I notice his gaze drop down, I suddenly remember I’m not wearing a bra. I cross my arms over my chest as casually as possible, and clear my throat self-consciously.

  I love that half-smile of his. It slowly lifts a corner of his mouth up. “Where do you work?”

  I tell him about my weekend job at Sunset Park, and he listens attentively. I even find myself going on about Helize, my favorite resident.

  "She used to be an accountant for some big Hollywood studio, and she's traveled all over the world. She's got some great stories—you should hear the one where she spent the week in a Mexican prison."

  "Yeah? Sounds interesting. I’d love to hear about it," he says, his dark eyes shining with interest.

  "I'm not sure you want to. It involves a wooden puppet, body cavity searches, and a--um--butt load of cocaine."

  "You're right, I think I'll pass," he says with a laugh. "Besides, I think I heard versions of this story one time too many."

  I smile at him. I can't help it—he's just so, so cute!

  Suddenly, I can't think of anything to say. I stand there with my arms crossed, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I hope he doesn't think I have to pee.

  After a minute of total silence, we speak at the same time.

  "I guess I'd better—"

  "Maybe one day you—"

  We both start laughing. "What were you going to say?" I ask him shyly.

  But he just shakes his head. " Nothing important. You'd better get some rest, huh? Goodnight, Violet."

  I watch as he stretches slowly, the hem of his shirt lifting up slightly to reveal his flat stomach. My mouth goes dry. All I can manage is a stiff nod before he goes to his room.

  I suck! When he's gone, I let my head fall onto the counter with a thud.

  Ow. I'm pretty sure I just gave myself a concussion.

  Oh, Violet, you are a prize.

  ******

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, I wake up feeling hung over. Not that I know what that feels like, since I don't drink. Or smoke, or do drugs. I'm a good little virgin, all right.

  I wish I could take a quick shower to wake up, but Zane's home, so there's no way I'm going in his room.

  I settle for splashing my face with cold water. I move like a zombie as I dress in my blue work scrubs and wind my long hair into a tight bun. On the way out, I grab a sports drink from the fridge, hoping it will give me some much needed energy.

  It's still dark out, which makes me feel vaguely depressed that I'm not lying snug in my bed. Yawning, I climb into the car and start the fifteen minute drive to work.

  Sunset Park is a grand two story white clapboard building, surrounded by trees and colorful flowers. As far as facilities go, you could do worse. At least they make an effort to make it a cheerful and classy environment.

  I park in the back, in the employee section. I'm happy to go through those glass doors again—I just hope not too much has changed since I was last here.

  I run into Liz while I'm clocking in. She greets me with a hug, and immediately starts filling me in. Both the Freemans have passed, within a week of each other. That is sad, but not surprising—and I’m glad they went around the same time. I learn Ginnie had a stroke, which I'm shocked to hear. Ginnie was in better shape than me—she went swimming at the Y every day.

  "We got two new people downstairs, but they're pretty self-sufficient," Liz is saying. "Oh, and Helize was asking yesterday when is her 'flower' coming back."

  "Aww," I say. "How is she?"

  "The same," she replies, pulling her dark hair back into a ponytail. "But Irma broke her right hip a month ago, so now she's a full assist."

  "Poor Irma."

  We head over to the office for a meeting. Everyone there welcomes me back with hugs and questions about my vacation in Hawaii. But was it really a vacation if you're working full-time in a bakery? According to the others, as long as you're in Hawaii, you're on vacation.

  I look through the communication log for updates on my residents while we have our meeting. After it's over, I grab my walkie and pager and head for the storage room to get a box of tissues. Helize always needs tissues, and she's the first one on my list.

  She’s already awake, lying in her bed.

  "Rise and shine, woman," I announce, flipping on the lights.

  Her clear blue eyes blink up at me. "Is that my flower I hear?"

  "Your one and only." I turn off her
oxygen concentrator on my way to her bed. "Good morning, beautiful."

  Helize frowns at me, causing her delicate skin to bunch around her mouth and eyes. "I was just lying here, trying to think of your name. Lily, was it?"

  "Close. Lily is my mother's name. I'm Violet."

  "Ah, that's it."

  I help her pull back the covers and begin the long process of helping her sit up. Then we work at untangling the nasal canula from her fine white hair. Meanwhile, I tell her all about my summer in Hawaii, and my mother's surprise engagement.

  "And what have you been up to?" I ask her as I push her wheelchair over.

  "Oh, the same. Not much changes around here." She sighs tiredly and reaches for a crumpled tissue stuffed in the sleeve of her nightgown.

  "No wild parties? Dancing on tables?"

  Helize cackles. "Oh, my table-dancing days are long over. Have I ever told you about that time in Nogales when the federales thought I was a prostitute?"

  This is what I love about Helize. You can say anything to her and she'll come up with something even more wild.

  I get her up and in her chair, and start pushing her toward the bathroom. As we pass her mini fridge, I fish in my pocket for the magnet and slap it on there.

  "I got you a souvenir from Hawaii," I say, stopping so she can look at it.

  "Oh, sweetheart!" Helize peers at the magnet, then frowns slightly. "Violet! Is that a vagina?"

  "What?! No—it's a humpback whale with its mouth open! Here, put on your glasses."

  I hand them to her and she slips them on. "Oh, I see it now!" she exclaims. "It's like one of those paintings that you have to stare at a funny way until you see the picture."

  "No, it's actually nothing like that," I say, wheeling her into the bathroom.

  After getting her situated in there, I get to work on straightening out her room. I make her bed the way she likes it, and throw away all the crumpled tissues she has stashed everywhere. Gross.

  It's weird how easily I fall back into my old work routine. I get all my residents down to breakfast, then before I know it, it's after lunch, and time for shift change. I stay for a few extra minutes to catch up with the mid-shift girls, and then I'm clocking out and on my way home.

  That went good! I'm not even tired. I can't wait to have a nice long soak in the tub, and then eat something. A whole cake, maybe. I'm so hungry! All that running around.

  I check the garage like usual to see if Zane's home, but his car isn’t there. If that's disappointment I'm feeling, I do my best to ignore it.

  As soon as I get in the house, I grab some clothes, my ear buds, and some candles and make a beeline straight for the bathroom.

  I really need a relaxing bath right now. I quickly peel off my yucky scrubs and start the bath. While it's running, I light the candles and turn off the lights. The sound of running water and the flickering lights makes me feel calm and spiritual, like I should have a dagger and an altar, or something.

  Pretending that I'm a virgin sacrifice drowning myself in the waters of purity, I step delicately into the tub.

  Aaah.

  My whole body sighs in happiness as I sink into the hot water. The jets are all fired up, vanilla candles wafting their vanilla-ness...heaven. I pop my ear buds in and play some Aiden Cross on my phone.

  I guess I drift off for a bit. The next thing I know, I'm blinking my eyes open and stretching languidly in the now cool water, completely relaxed.

  That was great! I climb out of the tub and my stomach growls fiercely. Right, time to eat. I towel off and slip on a long white sundress, then I clean up after myself. Wouldn't want Zane to think I'm a big slob. I gather my things, open the door, and—

  Aaaaaaughh!

  The first thing I see is a naked chick, crawling around on Zane's bed.

  It's not Natassia this time, it's some blonde chick, according to my shock-filled eyes.

  I'm rooted to the spot. The naked blonde girl notices me standing there and screams, grabbing a sheet to cover herself with. Zane is lying on his bed, fully clothed, hands tucked behind his head in a casual position.

  "Hey," he says, turning his head to look at me. "I didn't know you were home."

  He says this so calmly!

  "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry!" I blurt out, clapping a hand over my mouth. "I swear, I had no idea you were home! I was just taking a bath with candles, and I had my music on, and I think I fell asleep—ear buds…"

  "No worries," Zane says with his half-smile. "Violet, this is Anna. Anna—my roommate, Violet."

  "Hi." I wave lamely, trying desperately to imagine her completely dressed.

  Quick—I need to say something to her to diffuse this awkward situation!

  "Um...nice ass!"

  Not that, though.

  "Oh, god, I didn't mean that!"

  Naked Girl stares at me, mortified. She crosses her arms over her chest, and angles her body away from me—like I'm some kind of peeper!

  "I was just trying to make conversation. I didn't mean it, like, sexually," I babble, making it worse. "It was just an observation. Yeah, I'm gonna...go. Now. Okay."

  I stare down at the ground and make a run for it. I don't stop until I reach my room. I throw myself on my bed, facedown, and order myself not to move as punishment for gross stupidity.

  Maybe twenty minutes later—or an hour—there is a knock on my door. I don't answer, but someone comes in, anyway.

  Zane. I could sense his presence in the pitch dark.

  "Hey," he says, and I feel a tug on my foot. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine," I say into the mattress. "Thanks for checking. Bye."

  The bed dips down from a sudden weight. Holy crap! Zane is sitting on my bed!

  I flip over and scramble into a sitting position, scooting away from him like he's fire.

  Never in a thousand years would I have dreamed of someone as gorgeous as Zane sitting on my bed. Ever.

  I lock my arms around my knees and peek up at his smiling face. "I'm really sorry about—what happened. I had no idea..."

  "No, I'm the one who's sorry," he says. "I shouldn't be bringing my dates home. Not while you're staying with me. I put you in an awkward situation, and I apologize for it."

  I shake my head. "No, it's your place and I'm the one that intruded. And I'm not a little kid," I point out. "If you want to bring a different girl home every night, go for it. Maybe we could work out some kind of system...I could put a sock on the bathroom door when I’m using it, or something."

  Zane starts chuckling as he rubs his chin. "Hey. I wouldn't say I'm with a different girl every night."

  "Right" I roll my eyes. "I've been here almost a week, and so far I've seen you with five—no, Naked Girl makes six—different girls."

  "Yeah, well, I like variety." He shrugs adorably.

  "Really? Because they all seem kind of interchangeable."

  "And by interchangeable, you're saying...?"

  "They were all slutty. And dumb."

  Zane bursts out laughing. He reaches over and taps my knee. "Hey, Anna is a Yale grad."

  I don't say anything. The spot where he touched is still tingling. I struggle to keep a neutral expression.

  Zane grins and nudges me again. "She does have a nice ass, though."

  "Oh, god!" I groan, dropping my head into my knees. "I can't believe I said that! I should go apologize."

  "You'll have to catch her on the road. She's on her way back to L.A. right now."

  My head shoots up. "Because of what I said? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your date!"

  "Nah, forget it," he reassures me, waving it away. "It was me she was pissed at."

  I frown slightly. "You? Why?"

  Zane glances at me sideways, eyes crinkling in amusement. "After you left, I wouldn't stop laughing."

  "Oh," I say. “Umm…”

  Helplessly, I start laughing and he joins in. We chuckle together for a few seconds. In that moment, I can literally feel my little crush on Zane grow exponen
tially.

  So not good.

  He stands up and arches his back, stretching. I try not to notice how his gray shirt molds to his stomach to show off his ripped abs.

  "You wanna get something to eat?" he asks, looking down at me. "My treat. You can tell me all about how work was."

  I should have said no, made up some kind of excuse—I'm too tired, or something. Because I could sense the danger of remaining in his presence, the overwhelming temptation to say yes to him.

  I'm balancing on the edge of something here, and when I agree to go with Zane, I can feel myself falling...

  ******

  Chapter 10

  We go in his sleek gray car. I don't know what kind of car it is—I don't care about that kind of thing—but it's totally luxurious. I sink into the seat and inhale the heady scent of leather and rich boy. The ride is ridiculously smooth. Not anything like my old Toyota, where you can feel every bump on the road.

  And even the way Zane drives is sexy, the casual confident way he leans back in the seat, one hand on the steering wheel. In control. Hot.

  I have to admit, I'm not immune to these superficial pleasures. Riding in this incredible car with this amazing-looking guy, I kind of feel like a celebrity. It's a glamorous decadent sensation. I could totally live like this. We cruise along, listening to a classic rock station, smiling at each other, and talking about what kind of music we like. Zane says he listens to old rock, like Metallica and Led Zeppelin; I tell him I like mostly anything, from songs in the Top 100, to Broadway musicals. He doesn’t even make fun of me for liking the McPigs, a folksy little L.A. band. I play one of their quirkier songs for him on my phone, and he asks to hear more.

  We end up at a cool little restaurant right across the street from the beach. It's decorated to look like an old beach house, with bright yellow shutters. I love the circle windows everywhere.

  "This place has the best cinnamon rolls," Zane says as I slide into the booth. He waits until I'm seated, then sits on the other side.