#Book 1 - Page 37 (1/2)

I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Literally. All the painkillers I was popping, plus the lack of shut-eye, made me feel like I was floating away to la la land.

My position started the next Monday, which meant all this week I had to train my replacement (turns out they had the temp who subbed for me last week in mind), which in turn meant a fairly easy week for me. I could just make the other person do all the work.

Easy is what I needed. With my brain and body all jumbled I needed things to go as smoothly as possible. I wanted to put the weekend behind me more than anything and start focusing on a new path. The longer I engaged in the everyday swing of “normal” life, the more absurd the idea of being a ghost blogger became.

Plus, I hadn’t heard from Dex. I know he said he’d call if he knew something, but still; I guess a part of me hoped he would call anyway.

Later that evening, I went onto my Facebook to check his profile like the snoop I am. I found no evidence he had logged on recently, but people had written on his wall during our absence. Some guys, some girls, mostly inside jokes and potential plans. It felt weird knowing Dex had a life outside of me and the lighthouse, as egotistical and stupid as that sounds.

It only hammered home that Dex was still just a man. A befuddling man but just a man in the end. A man with a hot Wine Babe for a girlfriend, an interesting and varied job, a nice voice, a social life and a sordid past. A handsome, beguiling man whose eyes read your very soul and whose smirk held you in contempt. A man I tried my hardest to not think about.

That was easier said than done. Ada kept bringing him up around the dinner table.

“I think he looks creepy,” Ada said haughtily between pet.i.te bites of her roast. “I was starting to doubt if you’d ever come back.”

“Thanks, Ada,” I muttered, glaring at her.

“Well it would have been nice if we had had a chance to meet him,” my mom complained wistfully, “instead of having to stare at him from a distance.”

“Yes, well, I thought maybe you’d embarra.s.s me,” I replied truthfully.

“Oh, whatever, as you would say. Why would that matter?” my mom said, exchanging a look with my father, who was silent as he normally was whenever there was food in front of him.

“Because she has the hots for him,” Ada interjected.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. I just met the guy.”

She wagged her fork at me. “I saw the way you were ogling his Facebook pictures.”

She turned to my mother. “He has a girlfriend too.”

My mouth dropped. “How do you know that?”

“Maybe I know how to use a search engine better than you can,” she answered primly.

“Perry,” my mother teased, looking at me, “you do like this man!”

“No!” I exclaimed and nearly threw down my fork.

“The lady doth protest too much.” Ada smirked.

“You don’t even know what you’re quoting there, blondie,” I shot back.

“Girls,” my dad said sternly but gently. “Let’s let Perry relax a bit. It’s not every weekend that you blow up my brother’s lighthouse.”

I couldn’t tell if my dad was actually angry, as was usually the case with him. I had, after all, blown up his brother’s lighthouse, which couldn’t be taken lightly. Even though it wasn’t really my fault, it did look that way.

However, I picked up some compa.s.sion in his voice and gave him an apologetic face.

“We’re just glad you are OK, pumpkin.” He reached over and tapped my hand. “And proud too. Let’s toast your new job, cin cin.”

I beamed despite myself and we raised our gla.s.ses of wine. Ada raised her soda with a dry expression, though I could see the tiniest hint of sisterly affection.

After dinner and more small talk about my new position, I retired to my room ready to conk out. It was seven p.m., and somehow even getting twelve hours of sleep didn’t seem like it would be enough.

I packed some things into my purse when I heard the door shut behind me. Fearing the worst, I spun around in a panic.

It was just Ada staring at me in horror.

“What the f.u.c.k happened to your head?” she cried out, and raced over to inspect me.

I swatted her arms away and awkwardly felt my head. The cap had fallen off, leaving my snazzy Band-Aid exposed.

“It’s nothing, go away!” I glared at her.

She crossed her arms to indicate she wasn’t about to go anywhere. “What happened? Tell me or I’ll tell Mom. And Dad!”

I knew she would, too. I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know what version. The official story or the truth?

Despite all our differences, though, Ada was my sister. Looking into her jaded eyes, impeccably done up with the best makeup, I knew she had some reserves of belief left for me.

“Do you want the truth or the official story?”

“What’s the story you’ll end up blogging about?” she asked smartly.

She had a point there. If we were in fact still doing this project—at the moment I didn’t know what Dex would salvage from his camera, let alone the fact the whole thing might get shot down—we would obviously show people the truth. That meant my parents, the authorities, Uncle Al, would all find out the truth was wildly different from anything they had heard.

That said, I also knew they wouldn’t believe it anyway. No matter what kind of proof we provided, no matter how well I wrote about the experience, they would a.s.sume I made it up. Well, let them.

“So?” she said impatiently. “What is it? What happened? For real.”