Darkhouse (Experiment in Terror #1) (31 page)

My mother took no notice, as usual. She just ushered me into the Macy’s women’s department. I had it figured out, even before she started pulling various blazers and skirts. She wanted me to look more professional for my new position.

That was fair enough, I suppose. I did need to amp up my wardrobe and my band t-shirts weren’t cutting it anymore, even if I paired them with a nice skirt. I just knew my mom would squeeze me into some very unflattering and un-Perry like clothes.

And I was right. Ten minutes past and I made it out of the changing room with just one new outfit that suited me and one hell of a lecture about my weight.

“We could at least get you new shoes. Maybe some heels? You can’t gain weight in your feet,” she said brightly, and before she had time to insult me again, I was dragged in the direction of the shoe department.

Don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. But I love
my
kind of shoes, and my kind of shoes are the funky or comfy kind. The shoes my mom wanted me to wear would be better suited to someone else. Someone like Jenn.

The thought of her quickened my pulse.

I think my mom could tell because as the bored salesman shoved a pair of shoes back in the box, she said, “So, tell me about this man you were with. Dex?”

“You mean the producer of the show?” I said, not wanting to go down this road with her. “He’s really...interesting.”

“You like him?”

“No, Mom,” I sighed, and fingered the smooth patent finish of a pair of four-inch pumps. “Does anyone ever listen to me?”

“Pumpkin, you shouldn’t let something like a girlfriend stand in your way,” she said with a little too much conviction.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Even the salesman looked shocked at what she said, but he quickly hurried away before he could hear anymore.

“Mom,” I managed to say. “That is terrible advice to give your daughter.”

She smiled at me, and for an instant I felt like we were sharing our own private joke. “I’m not saying you should do anything. I’m just saying that sometimes life works in funny ways. When I was dating your father, there was a nice man who wanted me. He would send me flowers, ask me on dates when your father wasn’t looking. I never ended up doing anything about it; I was loyal. But I often wonder what would have happened if I went for that other man, Ted was his name, instead. Sure, your father might have been heartbroken, or at least his pride would have been lost, but he’d go on and find someone else. Ted was a very successful businessman. He went on to make millions with some sort of telephone company. My life might have been a lot better if I had ended up with him. You never know.”

This made my mind reel, never mind the pain shooting up from the balls of my feet as I attempted to stand in a pair of narrow-toed platforms.

“Uh, well you wouldn’t have had me or Ada if you went with this Ted dude,” I admonished her while trying to keep my balance.

She shrugged. “I guess. I’m just saying, perhaps it’s best to take a chance. That’s all. You should take those. They make your legs look skinniest.”

I looked down at the shoes. They didn’t make me look anything except bow-legged. But I agreed for the sake of ending this horrible conversation. It’s not that I thought my parents had the most perfect marriage, and I wouldn’t even be surprised if they secretly yearned for different lives, but to hear your mother disclose that so glibly was disturbing, to say the least.

But it wasn’t over. Things kind of got worse at the till when she paid for the devil shoes.

“Now, Perry, I hope this new advancement in your position means you’ll think more seriously about getting your own place and moving out.”

This too? The salesman and I were able to exchange a look that said “It’s not over yet?”

“Oh my God, Mom,” I exhaled loudly.

“Well, I’m just saying. You’re old enough to be responsible and move out. Please don’t think we want you to leave or anything, but with more responsibility comes… more responsibility. And I’d really love to turn your bedroom into my own room.”

“What do you mean your own room?” I eyed her suspiciously.

She shrugged and took the bag from the clerk. He looked happy to be rid of us and relieved that he didn’t have to go home with her, unlike me.

“I don’t know, pumpkin. Sometimes you get to a certain age where you want your own room and your own space. Besides, your father snores. It would be nice to get a good night’s sleep.”

I don’t know exactly how long my parents have been married but this was the first time I ever heard my mom complain about my dad’s snoring. I didn’t like where this was going at all.

As we left the mall and started our walk in the grey drizzle towards the car, our conversation drifted onto other topics, such as the newest reality show she was hooked on. I pushed what she said out of my head as much as I could.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The rest of the week went quickly since I was training Melody (easy) and being trained by Frida to prepare for my new job (not so easy). Not everything I learned was going to stay in my head, but I knew perfection wasn’t going to be expected right off the bat on Monday.

Melody learned quickly, as I thought she would. This allowed me to try and wrap my head around the new Excel spreadsheets that I had to get used to for the upcoming production schedule while she greeted clients and answered the phone. I was so zoned out in my Excel tornado (Excel was my nemesis) that I barely noticed when she handed me the phone.

“Perry? It’s for you,” Melody said cheerfully, nudging me in the arm until I looked up.

“Oh,” I said distractedly, mind blown away by some formula that didn’t add up. I took the phone and put it to my ear. Melody removed her headpiece.

“Perry speaking.” My voice didn’t sound as friendly as it should have but whatever, this wasn’t my job anymore.

“Aww, hello is this a Perry? Perry Palomino, yes?” a man said in a high-pitched accent that was borderline ridiculous.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, giving Melody a look. She raised her brows to say she had no idea who it was.

“Ahhh, Perry, you ghost woman yes? You go see big ghosts, yes?” the man insisted.

I paused, trying to figure out what was going on. “Maybe?”

“Yes, yes! You her! You’re the lady on the computer. You have ghost show and blow up lighthouses; you big star!”

My heart stopped. I quickly peered down at the number on the call display. It was a Seattle area code.

“Dex?” I asked, the hope in my voice clearly registering.

“Dex? He is handsome man, yes? That man genius, big sexy genius. He discover you! Made you big star.”

“Dex,” I repeated slowly.

There was a pause then the voice giggled, high and shrill. I recognized that laugh anywhere. It was Dex.

“I’m sorry to call you at work,” he said, his regular low and smooth voice coming through the line and flooding my heart with warmth. “But it took me a couple of tries to realize you might not have your phone anymore.”

“Oh, that’s OK,” I said brightly. The phone started to light up with another call. Melody moved to press the button but I shooed her away. The other calls could wait. This is what I called “The Receptionist’s Prerogative.”

“I’ll try and keep this brief as I’m sure you have to get back to answering other calls from more important people. By the way, how did your meeting go?”

“Uh good, fantastic,” I said, not wanting to outright talk about my new position in front of Melody. Seemed like it would be in bad taste.

“Do I need to speak in code? Did you get the job?”

“Yes to both,” I smiled. Melody watched me inquisitively.

“Well...that’s good news for you, right?” he asked innocently.

“Of course.”

“Hmmmm,” he mused. The line went silent.

“What?” I asked, feeling funny about his reaction.

“I need you to come up to Seattle on Friday afternoon,” he stated in a very no-nonsense voice, as if I had no choice.

“What?” I exclaimed. “I can’t do that!”

“You have to,” he replied.

I looked at Melody. She got the hint. She got out of her chair and whispered, “I’m going to go use the bathroom.”

I mouthed thank you to her then promptly sat down in her place.

“What do you mean I have to?” I whispered violently into the mouthpiece.

“I’ve put the footage together, I’ve composed the music; the shit is fucking brilliant, Perry. At least I think so. Jimmy wants to meet with you on Friday though, just to make sure.”

“But...what? Footage? So you were able to save it?”

“Well, I hate to borrow an old phrase from your favorite decade, but, DUH!” he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes, though there was no one to see it. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. I thought you were going to call me as soon as you knew what you had?”

“No, I said I would call if I knew anything interesting, and Jimmy just told me he wants to see you Friday, no matter what. I thought that was pretty interesting.”

“Dex. I just can’t go to Seattle on such short notice. I start my new position on Monday, and I still have to train the receptionist,” I hissed.

“She sounded well trained to me. A lot nicer than you, actually.”

I swear I almost hung up the phone. I took a deep breath and hoped he would respond to reason.

“Listen, Dex, I can’t leave. Your Jimmy guy will understand. Maybe I could come on Saturday or next weekend,” I said very slowly and calmly.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. It’s now or never, do or don’t, or die, depending on how dramatic you want to make this. Just call in sick.”

I did feel sick now that all this was going on. I should have known this wouldn’t be a simple situation. It sure as hell hadn’t been simple so far.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said wearily.

“Call in sick. Your receptionist will manage. She’ll have to manage without you anyway, right? Listen here,
I
will fly you up here. No cost to you. You’ll meet with Jimmy, he’ll be won over by your...personality, I’m hoping. You’ll sign some papers, we’ll have ourselves some champagne and everything will be all right with the world.”

That sounded all too easy.

I sighed, unsure of what to say. It was another one of the moments where I knew my actions would determine a new branch in my life, another road to go down. Did I say yes, ditch work and possibly damage my new job? Or did I say no, say goodbye to working with Dex and doing something truly interesting (albeit unconventional) with my life, and move forward down a more responsible path? Could I do both? Maybe...

“Can I call you back? I’m not really free to talk,” I managed to say just as Melody came back into reception.

“You can call me anytime,” he said dryly. “But I need to know your answer right now. I’ve got Jimmy right here in front of me, and he’s starting to think I’m a bit of a liar.”

“You are a liar,” I muttered, and gave Melody an apologetic look. She eyed the blinking lines on the console but didn’t say anything.

“Yes or no?” Dex said, impatience rising in his voice. I could just see his dark brows furrowed, his forehead creased.

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. There was no point trying to figure out what was right, no point in thinking. I said the first thing that came to my mind.

“Yes.”

I said yes.

“Thanks, Perry,” he said sincerely; gently, almost. “I’ll e-mail you the flight details right now. I’ll come get you at the airport and everything. The meeting will only take a couple of hours at the most, and then you’ll be back on the plane home. Easy as pie. You remember the pie analogy, don’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Good. See you soon, kiddo.”

And then the line went dead. I exhaled and slowly hung up the phone.

Melody gave me a perky smile. “Man troubles?”

I smiled despite myself. “I guess you could say that.”

***

The next day and a half was completely upside down for me. Dex emailed me my flight tickets, which meant that everything was set to go. The only thing I had to do was call in sick on Friday morning.

I didn’t actually think Frida would have a problem with it. Meaning, she might feel inconvenienced and perhaps a bit fearful that I may not come in on Monday (though I would assure her I would), but I didn’t think she’d jump to the immediate conclusion that I was playing hooky. After all, the swine flu thing was still going around.

No, the problem I knew I’d have was with my parents. How on earth was I going to tell them I was sick and then hop a plane to Seattle? I had a cold that only a Seattle doctor knew how to fix? Might as well tell them I was going to Seattle Grace Hospital to get checked up by Doctor McDreamy.

I knew if I told my parents the truth they would be so terribly disappointed in me. I could tell they were relieved when it seemed like this whole ghost show wasn’t going anywhere, and I knew how happy they were when I got promoted. I couldn’t bear to disappoint them after so many years of constantly letting them down.

It got so bad, that on Thursday night I had to sequester Ada in my room and ask her for advice.

I lay on my bed, my stuffed elephant squeezed between my arms, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Ada sat at my desk watching me thoughtfully. It felt like a bizarro shrink and patient scenario.

“Well?” I asked, frustrated at how silent she had been while I poured my heart out to her.

“Chill out. I’m thinking,” she answered, put upon.

“Are you? Or are you humoring me?”

“I’m humoring you, duh!”

“You’re the second person in two days to use that phrase,” I pointed out.

“Just tell Mom and Dad you’re going to work, and tell your work that you are sick,” she announced. “Do you think I always go to school when I’m supposed to?”

“Ada!” I exclaimed, the big sister in me coming out.

“Phfff, whatever, you were a druggie,” she said defensively.

“Please stop throwing that back in my face.”

“No, you please stop acting like you give a shit. I’m fucking fifteen, Perry. Think I’m going to listen to whatever sisterly advice you try and give me? Wake up and smell the apathy.”