Lying Season

Page 16

“Well, being as I live here, yes,” Dex answered smartly, not looking at the building. “But there hasn’t been any paranormal activity in there since 1987. Figured you would have known that.”
I felt like kicking Dex. What was he doing, giving them pointers? Let them film at the building that was a dud. Better for us in the long run.
“I did know that,” Annie shot back. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means that when Bertha Landes, the former – and only – woman mayor, had an exhibit of her items placed at a museum, the haunting here stopped. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I’m sorry you’re so close-minded, Dex Foray. You see, what I’ve learned in school is that people are haunted and not buildings. If a building is haunted that usually means there is some kind of doorway inside, a place where the walls to the afterlife are thin. And if someone who is more disposed to supernatural contact, such as myself, is in such a place, the ghosts come to them.”
I hated to admit it, but what she said made a little bit of sense. It would explain why, no matter where I was, certain things would haunt me.
Like the woman in the bathroom. The woman with the voice of wasps, the sticky red blood tide of endless blood flowing toward me, the fact that she knew my name…
“Are you OK, kiddo?” I heard Dex say.
I looked at him and noticed I had everyone’s attention. Had I just said something out loud?
“What?” I asked.
He furrowed his brows, slowing down his chewing, watching me carefully. I gave him an incredulous look and repeated myself. “What, Dex?”
“Nothing,” he said slowly and then looked back at the crew. “Well, just trying to help you guys out. Don’t want to see you wasting your time.”
“Oh yeah,” G.J. said sarcastically. “I’m sure that’s it. You and Boobs here just don’t want us to find anything.”
“Boobs?” I cried out and looked down at my chest. I was wearing a Nine Inch Nails tee shirt underneath my jacket. Nothing “boobs” about that.
Dex cocked his head at him, annoyed. “Actually you can find whatever the hell you fucktards want. We’ve got our own fish to fry tonight and we’re going to be the first show that the institute is going to let film inside.”
“What institute?” Annie asked suspiciously.
“You’re just going to have to watch and see, sweetheart,” Dex responded with a handsome grin. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the car. I shot the group one final look and followed Dex, walking rapidly to keep up with him.
When we were out of earshot, I said, “What a bunch of douchebags.”
“Douchebuckets,” he corrected me.
“Should we be worried?”
He shook his head and spit his gum out into the gutter as we crossed the street to his car. “Fuck me, I could go for a cigarette right now.”
“That’s not a good sign, Dex,” I pointed out.
He gave me a quick smile for reassurance but I didn’t feel reassured at all.
“No need to worry, we’ll figure this out soon. They’ve got nothing on us,” he said as he opened the rear door for me.
I got in and we drove back home. Though I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, I had a bad feeling about all of this. Then again, when didn’t I?
CHAPTER NINE
After our confrontation with Spook Factory was over, everyone seemed too aggro and annoyed to be cooped up in the apartment. Jenn decided she was going to go to the gym and invited me to go along with her.
“No thanks,” I had told her. Going to a gym, with Jenn…I’d rather have a lobotomy.
“Are you sure? You could use the exercise,” she said, stretching in her Lycra gear in front of me.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“For endorphins,” she smiled sweetly. “They’ll make you feel better.”
Uh huh.
So she went on her merry way to burn whatever fat she had left off of her while Dex did the opposite and had a nap.
“Can you watch Fat Rabbit and make sure he’s not shitting in anyone’s shoes?” Dex asked as he stood in his bedroom doorway. He looked strangely wane and haggard, a sudden change from earlier. A nap would do him good.
“Of course,” I said walking into my room and nervously eyeing Fat Rabbit, who was staring at me with devious bug eyes, like he already had shit in someone’s shoes and was just waiting for that person to find out.
He closed his door and I was left to my own devices. I went on the computer for a bit, checking my emails and making sure Miss Anonymous wasn’t leaving any more scathing comments on the blog posts. To my surprise and relief, she hadn’t said anything lately.
I tweeted a few things about being in Seattle and going on a hunting expedition that evening, even though I wanted to put a few potshots in there about G.J. and Annie. But I wasn’t about to start a Twitter war with those people.
When I got bored of the internet, I entertained Fat Rabbit by tossing a chew toy around for him in the room, not wanting his loud nails to go clattering across the apartment and waking up Dex. And when Fat Rabbit got bored of that, I started picking through Dex’s bookshelf again.
I started with a coffee table book of Led Zeppelin and skimmed through a few rock biographies before settling on a heavy book called “The Devil’s Death Metal,” which seemed to be about a female music journalist in the early 1970s and her supernatural involvement with a metal band. At least, that’s what the blurb on the back said.
But when I opened the book to read the first few pages, my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
The pages were all glued together and a hollow square was cut out in the middle. There were four half-full bottles of prescription medicine inside.
I took one bottle out and examined it. I had no idea what the gobbledygook medicinal name was, but it was prescribed by a Doctor Anderson for a Mr. Declan Foray.
I looked around me warily. Fat Rabbit was lying down on the bed and looking at me like I was doing something wrong. But I wasn’t. Was I? I mean, Dex was storing – or hiding – bottles of medicine in a hollowed-out book.
I remembered back to when we first met; he had mentioned that Jenn never knew he was on medication. I thought that had been a joke but it was now apparent that he had been serious. It boggled my mind. How on earth was Dex able to keep this a secret from her, and for heaven’s sake, why? She was his girlfriend, the one person who actually had the right to know if her boyfriend was on medication or not.
And four bottles, too! I examined all of them. Some were horse-pill size, some were tiny yellow tablets. And while two bottles were prescribed by Dr. Anderson, the other two were from a Dr. Houston and a Dr. Bains.
I gently put the bottles back and closed the book cover, holding it in my lap. I didn’t know what to think. Why was Dex on so many pills? What else was wrong with him? It couldn’t just be this so-called bipolar disorder, could it?
“Perry?” Dex called out. Fat Rabbit leaped off the bed and I leaped to my feet and hid the book behind my back just as he appeared at the door, looking all ruffle-haired and bleary-eyed.
“Dex!” I exclaimed, trying to not look suspicious. It didn’t fool him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, moving his head over to get a better look at what I had behind my back.
“Nothing,” I replied swiftly and stepped backward. I smiled while adjusting the book behind my back, hiding it better.
But as I did so, my finger caught the edge of the book and the cover opened.
All four pill bottles fell out and bounced onto the carpet behind me.
Oh, shit.
Dex’s face crumpled in horror first. Then stealthily switched to pure, visceral anger. You wouldn’t like Dex when he’s angry.
“What the fuck are you doing!?” he cried out and lunged toward me, grabbing my arm roughly and snatching the book out my hands. He pushed me over until I fell butt-first onto the bed and scooped up the pill bottles from the floor.
“I didn’t mean to-”
He straightened up, clutching his pills to his dark grey T-shirt, his eyes wild. “What, are you fucking snooping through my stuff?!”
I got off the bed and squared up against him, not about to be intimidated. “I wasn’t snooping through your fucking stuff, you idiot! I was looking through your stupid books; how the hell was I supposed to know you’ve got fucking drugs hidden in them? What the fuck is that about?”
“Never mind,” he sneered, and turned to leave the room with his precious cargo. I grabbed his forearm and dug my nails into his bare flesh, my turn to be rough.
He stopped and looked at the arm in surprise, then at me. “Ow! Let go of me, you wench.”
“You fucking tell me why you’re hiding prescription meds in a book!”
“It’s none of your business, Perry!”
“It’s totally my business. I’m your partner. We’ve been through this, Dex, I mean, come on. I need to know what the fuck you’re on. I was fine with your whole bipolar thing or whatever the hell is wrong with you, but why the hell do you need four different medicines from three different doctors and why the fuck are you hiding it in a hollowed-out book?!”
He jerked slightly, taken aback. He eyed my arm again, more calmly this time, and I removed my nails from his arm. They left crescent indents but hadn’t broken the skin. Finally he looked at me.
“Why are you so mad?”
“Because!” I yelled. I peered at the doorway, where Fat Rabbit was watching us. The dog was shaking. I closed my eyes, took back my hand and let out a deep breath. “Because, I just am. I feel so unprepared about this whole mental institute thing, you haven’t given me anything to go on…”
“There’s a thing called Google, you know. You could look up Riverside yourself. I don’t have to do everything for you.”
I opened my eyes and shook my head. “That’s not the point. It’s because you’re being so evasive about this whole thing, about the fact that you were in an institute yourself. And you’re not talking to me about it.”
Dex threw his head back in exasperation. “Oh my God. Did it ever occur to you, Perry, that maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to talk about what happened to me in there? It’s a fucking mental institute. You have no fucking idea what that means.”
Guilt kicked at me from inside. “OK, you’re right, I don’t. I just want to…”
“Want to what?” he challenged, looking me deep in the eyes.
“I want you to trust me.”
“But I do trust you,” he said quietly.
“Then tell me about these,” I said, pointing at the pills he was still clutching to his chest with one arm.
“Some other time.”
“No, now.”
“No,” he argued. He put his free hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s a long story and Jenn’s going to come back here any minute.”
“OK, well at least tell me why you’re hiding them in a book. Hiding them from your girlfriend.”