Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Frannie!” Gretchen calls, exasperated.
Frannie pads into the living room and gives Gretchen what she hopes is a convincing smile. She flops down next to her on their worn green couch. Gretchen grins at her beneath her light pink face mask, relaxing in her big tie-dye hoodie, legs pulled up to her chest.
Frannie drags Jonathan’s Tisch School of the Arts throw blanket across her legs and glances at the TV. She’s not sure how Gretchen talked her into a Galentine’s Day Finding Bigfoot marathon. If she can survive this, she can survive anything. But first—
“So, I was looking at apartments,” Frannie starts, her voice a little choked.
Gretchen stops reaching for the remote and turns to look at her. “Oh?”
“Yeah, and I found a great three bedroom on Seventy-Third Street, of all places,” Frannie says, trying to sound casual about it.
“Seventy-Third Street? Really?” Gretchen looks thoroughly skeptical, which is impressive under a face mask.
“I know it’s bougie, but it’s right on the C, with the 1/2/3 just up the avenue, and there’s a ton of good coffee shops and stuff to do right there. And the park, which would be awesome.”
“The Upper West Side?” Gretchen asks, wrinkling her nose. “I was thinking maybe the Village, or Brooklyn? I know it would be a commute for you, but you’re not gonna be with Henry for that much longer, right?”
Frannie hesitates, because isn’t that the fucking problem? “Right, but I might do part-time work for him after I leave, and I just … really like being that close to Central Park. It’s so gorgeous, always walkable, and come on, have you seen it in the snow?”
Gretchen narrows her eyes beneath the face mask. “I guess.”
“We could at least go see it, right, for inspiration?” Frannie nudges.
She just has to get her there, and then she’s sure the apartment will speak for itself and convince Gretchen that’s where they should be looking.
It’s a brownstone on freaking Seventy-Third Street. It’s like a New York City wet dream.
“Wait, you said three bedrooms?”
“Yeah,” Frannie says lightly.
“Why do we need three bedrooms?”
“I just thought it would be nice for us to have somewhere that wasn’t our bedrooms to work. You could have a real editing bay, and I could have an aesthetic bookcase or something for … social media content,” Frannie says, petering off at the completely nonplussed look Gretchen’s giving her.
“I don’t mind having my set up in my room. We can definitely make do without a dedicated office.”
Frannie twists her hands into the blanket. She doesn’t want Michael and Bridgette to have to hide out in her room all the time. She wants them to have their own space. She wants to have her own space with Elsa. She wants to give them a real home.
She practiced a ton of ways to convince Gretchen into starting to look for a three-bedroom apartment, but she thought she’d ease them into this. Get Gretchen to agree to an outrageously expensive lease and then ask her to help convince her ghost girlfriend to live with them forever.
“Well, Brad might want somewhere to work sometimes, right? Especially if you guys get the green-light from A&E,” Frannie says a bit desperately.
“Don’t even talk about it, you’ll jinx it,” Gretchen says quickly. “And anyway, Brad’s got a fantastic set up at his place. And he and I can share. It’s kind of cozy, actually.” She smirks under the face mask.
Frannie takes a deep breath. She’s clearly not going to make it out of this without explaining. “Well, um, what if Brad’s there, and my, uh, girlfriend is there too?”
Gretchen blinks and then turns toward her more fully, eyes lighting up. “You have a secret girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was … complicated.” It’s still complicated.
“Oh, this makes so much sense!”
“What?”
“All those nights you stayed late at Henry’s while he was on vacation—all the nights you stay working late even though your office sucks. You’ve been going to see her, haven’t you?”
Frannie gapes for a moment. “Um, sort of?”
“I knew it. I knew it! So, when do I get to meet her? Will she be around a lot once we get our own place?”
Frannie takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I was actually thinking she would live with us, or at least I’m hoping she will.”
The whole face mask migrates up Gretchen’s face with her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“And she … has kids,” Frannie adds quickly.
Gretchen gapes for a second. “Oh, Fran, I don’t know. I’m not really sure that—”
“They’re the ghosts who haunted you and Brad in the Dakota Building,” Frannie forces out in a rush.
Gretchen sits for a second, just staring at her, her eyes getting wider and wider, until she pulls off her face mask. “Holy shit!”
“Yeah, it’s—”
Gretchen stands up, on the couch, arms over her head. “Holy shit!”
Frannie blinks up at her, leaning forward, arms outstretched to spot her in case she falls.
“They’re real!” Gretchen shouts. “They’re real! Oh my God, they’re real!”
“Well, yeah, you have them on tape,” Frannie says, nonplussed.
“Holy shit!” Gretchen yells again, swaying a little in place.
“Would you sit down?” Frannie implores her.
Gretchen’s head jerks down to look at her, eyes still overwide, eyebrows up toward her hairline. “You said you hadn’t seen them!”
Frannie huffs and tugs on her leggings. “I lied.”
She yelps as Gretchen collapses suddenly back down onto the couch, immediately leaning into her space. “Tell. Me. Everything,” she shrieks, hands shooting out to grab Frannie by the shoulders. “What are they like? How do they live? Where do they stay? Why couldn’t we see them?”
Frannie gapes at her. “Um—”
“Wait. WAIT. Secret girlfriend. Are you sleeping with a GHOST?”
Frannie feels herself flush and nods, wincing. “Yeah?”
“HOLY SHIT,” Gretchen squeals. Frannie’s eardrums might never recover. “This is the coolest thing ever! Oh, wait—” She lets go of Frannie to grab her phone. “Brad has to be here for this.”
“Hang on,” Frannie says, anxiety gripping her stomach. She reaches for the phone. But Gretchen’s strong, pushing her away with one hand while texting with the other. “I’m not sure we should—”
“Brad will be at the apartment all the time. And he’s a ghost hunter.
We need him. Wait.” She pauses and looks back at Frannie, eyes a little wild.
“If your ghosts could do all that shit at the Dakota, and you can sleep with the … mom? They’ve got to be poltergeists.
How are we getting them to Seventy-Third Street? ”
Frannie curls her legs up onto the couch, watching Gretchen nearly vibrate in place. Something unfreezes in her chest. “How are we getting them to Seventy-Third Street?” means more to Frannie than she thinks she’ll ever be able to explain.
“I haven’t entirely convinced her yet, but I think the power lines below the buildings are connected,” she begins haltingly. “We just need a good jolt—”
“And they can zip across the street. I see how that could work. Although, it also sounds pretty risky. Is that why you need to convince her?” Gretchen asks, her fingers stilling on her phone, eyes rising to meet Frannie’s.
Her posture changes suddenly. “Poltergeists feed off the electricity. So, if they get too far and there’s not enough of a charge, couldn’t it—”
“Yeah,” Frannie says, her throat going tight. “Yeah, that’s part of it, but that’s not her problem, actually. She’s more concerned that I won’t be able to live a real life with them, but I want to give them a real life, you know?”
Gretchen bobs her head. “Wow, yeah. That’s a ‘Gift of the Magi’ situation right there, damn.” She slumps back against the couch, adrenaline apparently fading.
Frannie sighs and burrows into her blanket, a huge weight lifting from her shoulders. It does nothing to help persuade Elsa, but telling someone is a kind of relief she didn’t know she needed.
“I’m working on convincing her that I want the weird ghost life, and in the meantime, I’m trying to make sure the ghost physics of it will work, to take that out of the con column.”
“And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, consult directly with the ghost expert I sleep with four times a week?” Gretchen asks, wiggling her phone.
“The book deal came out of left field. It wasn’t even an option two weeks ago,” Frannie says defensively. “And I did let you guys in to film them.”
“You did, you really did,” Gretchen says, glancing down at her phone with a smile. “Well, I’m calling Brad to get his ass over here so we can start planning. I guess we gotta get them out of the Dakota before our show goes. Wouldn’t want more ghost hunters trying to find them.”
Frannie blanches. That hadn’t even occurred to her. Shit.
“Maybe put that in the pro-move column for your ghost lady friend,” Gretchen says, glancing at Frannie with an arched eyebrow.
“Now, go make popcorn, because we need to do girly talk before Brad gets here and ruins it with ghost physics. I mean, he’ll be interested in what being physical with a ghost is like, too, but I don’t know if you want to talk feelings with him. ”
Frannie laughs, surprised, and stands on wobbling legs. She pads back into the kitchen while Gretchen feverishly types on her phone.
Okay. She’s got more ammo now. She loves Elsa. Brad will figure out the physics. And if Elsa and the kids don’t want to become inadvertent ghostly influencers, they probably need to escape anyway.
Maybe they can really do this.
“Ready?” Frannie asks two weeks later.
“Ready for what?” Brad whispers, still staring wide-eyed at Michael as they loiter in the empty basement.
Jose’s going to need new pants at the rate Frannie’s bringing him weekend pastry bribes, but it’s worth it to have Brad along to do reconnaissance.
He looks distinctly out of place in his green polo shirt and khakis, backpack slung over his shoulder.
Though, when has Frannie ever actually belonged in this building either?
Michael bounces on his toes and looks to Frannie for permission. She nods, and he reaches out to take Brad’s hand. Brad jerks, and then he and Michael promptly disappear.