“Fuck me,” Nessie says, shaking her head. “Sparkly ones. Please be sparkly ones.”
Cooper chuckles because like always, he’s practical and has already chalked this all up to old tales and has discounted any potential threat. While my major of astrophysics consists of laws, rules, and theories, right now my thoughts have abandoned all reason and sense and are currently theorizing all the ways we’re going to be killed as we cross past the gates of the cemetery.
9
Tyler
I made a vow last night to avoid Chloe Robinson.
That vow died a quick death this morning when I went to work out with Cooper, and he told me about how much he’d appreciated me making an effort with Chloe and how she had given her blessing for him and Vanessa to pursue things.
I’d told him that it wasn’t her choice, and in turn, Cooper tore out a page from his childhood, back from when he was first sent to live with his grandma after his dad’s arrest. He shared how most of the kids avoided him and called him names for his father’s crimes and how it had been Chloe who stood up for him and even went as far as punching a kid in the nose when he called Coop a drug dealer.
The problem is, as much as I admire her for standing up for Cooper, there’s something about her that makes every bad decision seem good. I know that if I turned on the tap, everything would overflow and drown us both because she’s not the kind of girl you can forget—which is why when I’m around her, everything turns into chaos, making all of my emotions feel like lies.
This tour—her breasts pressed against me, perfume staining me, fingers marking me—is not helping a single damn thing.
“I’m done,” Vanessa announces as someone in our tour group starts sharing a picture of a blur she believes is a ghost.
A cat darts out from behind one of the tombs. A cacaphony of screams echo through the cemetery as it sprints away. Chloe wraps her arms around my waist, moving even closer. “Done. Done. Done,” she chants.
I read the reluctance on Cooper’s face, the perverse way he’s enjoying this moment having Vanessa so close, but he glances around, trying to retrace our steps. “All right, let’s get out of here.”
Chloe’s grip loosens, and she moves so she’s walking beside me, relieved by just the realization this is about to be over.
“What do they mean, vampires live here?” Vanessa asks. “Like people here drink each other’s blood?” That’s all it takes before Chloe slips her arm back through mine.
I pull out my phone to text Natasha to send a car.
“I’m sure it’s just to scare people and add to the experience,” Cooper says.
“What did you think, Ty?” Vanessa asks.
“You never want to go to the Czech Republic,” I warn her. “It’s supposed to be the most haunted country in the world.”
“Noted,” Chloe says.
“Hey, Chloe, truth or dare?” Cooper asks.
“No. No. No.” She shakes her head.
Cooper laughs so hard he nearly trips. “I wasn’t going to. I mean, you did this to yourself. You knew you were going to hate it and still did it. That’s either really brave or really stupid.”
“Being fun is so overrated,” Chloe says.
As we get back to the hotel suite, my phone rings.
Dad.
Shit.
It’s late there—or very early—which means there’s a problem.
“You ready?” Coop asks from where we’re gathered in the living room, plans of the pool on a brief hiatus as the girls exchange their experiences with the ghosts. Chloe’s sitting in a single chair—the farthest seat from where I’d sat down—the past few hours forgotten.
“Yeah, I’ve got to take this really fast. It’s my dad. I’ll meet you down at the pool.”
Coop gives a tight nod of understanding. We’ve exchanged enough stories about our fathers and their shared drive to always to be the best that sometimes left us forgotten.
I step out onto the balcony, closing the door behind me. “Hello?”
“What’s going on in New Orleans?” Dad asks, cutting out pleasantries. That’s okay, most will say I’m not pleasant, either.
I work to recall some of the data and figures I’d requested this morning after sitting in a conference room for over fourteen hours yesterday to understand how the New Orleans site has lost money in the past nine months when it was once one of our most profitable hotels. “We’re spending too much,” I begin to explain my thoughts, and then stop. I haven’t shared anything with him thus far. This is my project, and we’re supposed to discuss my findings and recommendations next month when he and Lewis return from Europe. “Are you checking in on me?”
“Natasha called and said you checked in with three guests. I thought you were taking this seriously? Tell me they’re not prostitutes. And why were you late for your meeting yesterday? And why didn’t you invite Avery to fly over?”
I laugh. “That’s rich, Dad, especially coming from you. This is the first hotel, and you’re already having your minions spy on me? And no, I didn’t invite Avery. I don’t want the management company’s opinions.”
“They’re not spying. They work for me.”
“Three people are traveling with me. All of them attend Brighton. All of them have been professional, and none of them are prostitutes. One is Cooper, and the other two are sisters.” It’s better to give him facts, so he stops spying.
“They reflect on you, Tyler. Every decision you make, every person you call a friend—it all reflects on you, Son.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that.”
“Don’t embarrass our family name.” He hangs up.
I clench the phone in my fist, and for a second, I consider how it would feel to chuck it off the balcony and break my contact with the outside world for just a single day.
Anger prickles at my skin as I recount what the girls wore last night when we went out and the night before when we
