A Grand Reopening
Chapter seven
Jake
I try to avoid Alex as much as possible over the next few days. He's dangerous. He'd be too easy to get close to, to trust. I don't want to put my trust in anyone, but I'm low on options.
The hotel is about to reopen, and Kayla has set up a few decorations for the new guests.
News of my death has largely been kept out of the media, due to my father’s connections.
It was barely a line in the local paper before the news cycle moved on, but I doubt it'll gain more attention than that.
As far as most people are aware, Keystone Manor Hotel shut down due to a major pipe leak and is reopening after extensive repairs.
Not that anyone cares. I don't know why they're bothering with these pretenses, this place is a huge money laundering scheme, not a business.
I’m not surprised they couldn't be bothered to show up. They don’t actually give a damn about this place.
All the work of reopening has been left to Kayla.
She’s a great manager but I can tell she’s been run a bit ragged by my parents, often disappearing for long stretches of time.
Alex has been helping her as best he can, using Brandon to leave helpful notes when things need replacing or fixing.
I can tell she’s not sure what to make of Brandon because I keep catching her side eyeing him when he's not looking, but so far she hasn’t questioned it.
I guess she assumes my parents hired him to help her out.
The corridor to the west wing, where my room is located, has been sectioned off to keep prying eyes far away. Crime scene tape still covers the door, and no one has bothered to remove it. The room feels tainted now. Maybe they’ll leave it sectioned off forever, who knows.
As Kayla gets our new guests checked in, I look around for Alex.
He’s not in the lobby, which is unusual.
He’s typically anywhere that people are.
I have to hand it to him, he’s probably the one person in the world who actually cares about the success of this hotel.
I’m not sure why my parents bought it. It’s never been profitable and they’ve never made any real attempt to fix it up to attract more guests.
If they wanted to launder money for their Russian clients, they could have used any of their countless charities.
This is a house fit for ghosts and not much else. I guess that’s fitting.
My gaze flits around the mostly empty lobby, not taking in much.
Kayla has a table set up along one of the walls, the snacks and drinks untouched.
A few sad decorations line the perimeter.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to work through my feelings.
Since my death I haven’t felt like myself.
I have no purpose anymore, and no future.
The only good thing I have is Alex. But I don’t have him.
I can never have him. He’s good and sweet despite his bratty side, everything I’m not, and being around him is a stark reminder that I will never belong anywhere or to anyone.
I can tell that my rejections have hurt him, but I can’t let myself care.
I still can’t figure out what he sees in me, why he spends so much time begging for my attention.
I guess I’m one of the only people who can give him attention anymore, and he doesn’t seem like the type to tolerate or appreciate solitude.
“BOO!”
I almost jump out of my skin as I whirl around to find him standing behind me, looking pleased with himself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. “Jesus, Alex. You damn near gave me a heart attack.” I rub my chest where my heart should be beating.
He laughs. “You’re dead, you can’t have a heart attack.”
I swallow thickly. “Thank you for the reminder. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a few murders to solve? Or have you already grown bored of that?”
“When I first woke up dead here, I thought I’d try my hand at haunting the guests. Doesn’t work so well without a body, or the ability to make sounds anyone can hear.” He tilts his head as he looks up at me, a sly smile still on his perfect face. “Maybe I can haunt you.”
“You do haunt me.”
“Okay Mr. Grumpington. Listen, I do have a small update for you. Turns out, Brandon does know a psychic. We are all shocked by this news, I know. He’s trying to arrange a trip out here as we speak.
Hopefully the guy can help us figure out a way to…
solidify our ghostly essences or whatever it is ghosts do.
It would be amazing to touch something again that isn’t you. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” I have no idea what he’s going on about. I do know I’d like to see the credentials of this so-called psychic. Knowing what I do about Brandon, I can take a guess at how this will go. I continue to stare out at the lobby, feeling unmoored. This is a waste of time.
I’m just about to head back to my room when Alex grabs me by the hand.
“Dance with me,” he says and drags me to an empty spot in the middle of the room, directly under the ornate chandelier that dominates the ceiling.
“I can’t dance,” I protest.
“It wasn’t a request. Plus, dancing is easy. Here, I’ll lead. Put your arms around my neck.” He places his hands gently on my waist and starts swaying us to the low music that’s playing. I reluctantly do as he says and rest my arms on his shoulders. I’m glad no one can see us.
“We look ridiculous. You’re too tiny to lead me.”
“Jake, I say this with love. Shut up. I’m going to lead you, and we’re going to dance and have some fun for a minute. We’re ghosts; we deserve it. It’s not like there’s anything else to do.”
“Well, I have no rebuttal for that.”
“You can just say ‘yes, sir,’” he says cheekily.
I can’t help the smile I feel forming. “You’re bossy, has anyone ever told you that?”
“All the time. Admit it, you like it.”
I do.
He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “I’m surprised you don’t know how to dance. I thought this was something all rich people did. Waltzing and stuff.”
I shake my head.
“Salsa? Line dancing? Twerking?”
I bark out a laugh. “None of the above, brat.”
“I thought we agreed you’d call me sir.” He gives me a mock glare.
“I’m not calling you sir. You’re a brat, I’m calling you brat.
” My voice is stern, but he can tell I’m trying to be playful because he gets a twinkle in his eye.
I’m not sure yet if that’s a twinkle I’ll live to regret.
But he doesn’t say anything else, just leans his head against my chest and sighs deeply.
For some reason I allow it and hold him a little tighter.
I don’t know how in the space of a dance he’s begun to pierce the wall I’m trying desperately to hold up around myself. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the first person to ever actually care about anything I have to say. I feel defenseless against that. He doesn’t play fair.
I decide to give him one small piece of me. To shut him up for a minute, I tell myself. But really, I want someone to know. I'm so tired of feeling alone.
I’ve longed for real connection for so long, for someone to want me and not just want to use me. It’s something I’ve always been denied.
“As you have no doubt figured out, my family is not conventional. My father is rich, yes, but that’s never done anything good for me.
He mostly ignored me until he decided he wanted me to learn the family business.
I still don’t understand why. I barely even understand what his business dealings are.
” I do my best to avoid his gaze. I hate talking about my family.
“And you don’t want to?” he asks softly.
“No, I don’t. I didn’t. I guess it doesn’t matter now that I’m dead, but I never wanted anything of his, as I told him many times.
I wanted to make my own way, do something legitimate, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t include running businesses that require bribing the authorities in order to stay out of trouble.
” I shudder, and Alex squeezes me. “Andrei tried his best to keep me in line, but I’ve always been too stubborn for my own good.
I feel like I’ve been running from my father for most of my life. ”
“Andrei. He’s the one that was here the night you died. The big, scary Russian with the tattoos?” he asks, looking up at me with concern in his eyes.
“Yes. I think he’s the one that killed me,” I admit. “I wish I could remember. That night is a complete blank in my mind.”
“Were you hiding from him? I noticed you made yourself scarce that night.”
“You were stalking me from the moment I got here, weren’t you?” He hums in agreement.
I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, trying to decide how much I want to tell him. He’s so easy to talk to and I find myself wanting to open up. Needing to purge whatever it is inside that feels like it’s slowly poisoning me.
“I was trying to get away from him,” I admit. “He’s my father’s right-hand man; he’s always been around the family. I never liked the way he would stare at me when no one was looking, and when my father gave me over to him—” I cut myself off, suddenly not wanting to continue.
“Did he hurt you?” Alex holds his breath as he waits for my answer.
“No, it wasn’t like that," I say, staring at a spot over his shoulder. "He used to always look for excuses to be around me, and my father encouraged it because he thought he was training me to take over. God, the things I’ve seen him do. He used to brag about the ways he’d take his enemies apart.
How good it felt. He got off on their fear and pain.
I’m a grown man. Someone my size shouldn’t be so intimidated by that.
So weak. I hated being around him, but my father didn't care as long as he could keep me in line.”
I’m no body builder but I have a solid physique. I work out. I should be able to defend myself, but clearly, I’m not up to the task. I guess in the end I had good reason to fear him. It doesn’t make me feel like any less of a coward, though.
“You’re not weak. Not at all, Jake. That feeling is called survival instinct—don’t even say it. That’s not weakness. It sounds like you were put in an impossible position and were doing your best to navigate it.”
“You sound so reasonable, I can almost believe what you’re saying.”
“Good, you should. And if Andrei comes back, I’ll protect you. You’re not alone anymore.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re going to protect me, are you? I’m a ghost, he can’t touch me, remember? And you can’t touch him.”
“That’s beside the point—”
“It quite literally is the point,” I retort. “I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you. No one has ever wanted to do that for me before.”
“You’re stuck with me, buddy. There’s no getting rid of me now. Thank you for telling me all that. I’m here to listen any time you want to talk.”
“Me too,” I say, suddenly wanting to know more about him as well.
I want to ask him something about his life, but words get stuck in my throat.
I can’t let myself get close to this boy.
I’m too aware of his hands resting gently on my waist, the look in his eyes as he watches me.
He makes me feel like a teenager again, and I don’t know what to do with that.
I stare at him until the song ends then step away, and he lets me go. I’ve shared more with him than I meant to and I’m feeling too raw at the moment to stay in his presence.
“Thank you for the dance.” I move away before he can pull me back into his orbit.
“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Jake,” he calls out as I leave him without a glance back.