Okay, here it is. Enjoy! It's a little different . . . Don't forget to
review.
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Paul's POV.
As soon as Suze had shifted us back into her room, I knew I was in trouble. We were both lying on her bed, but I felt her shoulders go oddly tense. Oh well, I was prepared for anything.
'Paul?' came her voice from beside me. I wasn't going to be a coward and dematerialize, plainly because I had her right where I wanted her. I bet you anything that the next question she asked was going to be about shifting . . . You watch . . .
'Yeah, Susie?'
'WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!' she turned to me and roared in my face.
I sat up, mildly stunned. Okay, well, I don't think any mental problems of mine could fit into the shifting category, damn it. So I was wrong? But you watch her next question . . .
'Well? Are you on crack?!' she demanded.
Oooh, this was disappointing. Twice wrong. Not exactly an ego-booster. Although, ask any chick I've done, I don't need one. I got off the bed, and so did she.
'Excuse me?' she shrilled, 'You don't make a girl materialize to some parallel universe, and then leave her hanging. I want answers, bucko. How the hell did I do that?' Her face was white with a mixture of rage and fright.
I smirked. Third time lucky, yes. I'm a very lucky bugger.
Well, besides the fact that I'm dead. I mean, let's review. I was killed at the age of seventeen. I mean, doesn't everyone want to die young, and look pretty? Well, damn, I do. Or did, I dunno. And, I
happened to die in the very room that a very beautiful, very HOT sixteen year old chick now inhabits. I mean, if that's not lucky, I don't know what is. And plus, I'm in very good shape, so it's only a
matter of time before she gives in and falls for my charm.
Oh, I'm not arrogant at ALL.
'HELLO! I'm talking to you, you prick!' Suze was yelling at me. I snapped back to reality. Hey? I'm a guy who sees the glass as half-full. Don't ruin it for me, okay?
I turned back to her, still smirking. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was looking way, way mad. Nothing I couldn't handle . . .
'Sorry, must have missed that,' I said coolly. She took a menacing step towards me, but please . . . The babe was a foot shorter, as if was scared?
She just glared. 'I asked,' she said through gritted teeth, 'What this is about "shifting." Because -'
'Oh,' I said simply, 'You want to listen to me now?' I wasn't going to play games, because I knew if I was too cocky, she wouldn't want me to tell her.
'Well, if you're going to be such a -' she began, but I stopped her. Well, stopped isn't really the word for what I did. Oh, I was fast. Very fast. I like fast, you see. Quick as the cunning snake I am, I
scooped her into me, and while she was still shocked, I kissed her.
Hard.
I also like hard too.
I couldn't tell if she was protesting to this or not, and frankly, I didn't care. My hand strayed down to her ass, and yeah, I gave it a little squeeze. So what? She didn't need to stop, did she?
'PAUL!' she squealed, and pushed me away from her in outrage. Her eyes were so wide I could see the entire circles of her dazzling emerald irises.
'What?' I asked defensively. 'You know that you've been wanting this, Suze.'
'Is that what you really think?' she retorted, still backing away from me slowly, like I was an escaped panther that was advancing on her at some zoo. I grinned. She was just playing hard to get . . .
'Well, you can fully tell, Suze. I mean, come on! We've been together for almost a month now, and we still haven't -'
'Paul, we are NOT together. We are two very different people who were thrown together in a very awkward situation due to the fact that you haven't passed on into your afterlife yet!'
'Well, let's make the best of this awkward situation,' I said seductively, and pushed her down against her bed. Her eyes went wide.
'Paul, you - you do anything, and I swear, I'll scream!' she warned, her voice shaking slightly. I knew what she was feeling. All her life, she was acting like the medium that she was supposed to be, all tough and ruthless, but that was just covering the fact that she was still just a girl, all vulnerable, and very attractive to men.
But what she said made me smirk. 'Oh yeah, Suze. And what will they find when they come in here? You on a bed, screaming? I'm invisible to them, remember? Mum'll chuck you straight into a nut house. And that's what you've been trying to keep from her all your life, isn't it? That you can speak to the dead. That's what you will never tell her, even if it kills you . . .'
Her eyes went even wider, if possible. And I guess it was, because they did.
'How did you know that?' she whispered softly.
My smirk faded.
'I was exactly the same,' I said.
Her mouth fell open. 'Really?' she asked, and sat up a bit. I forgot about what I wanted to do to her. Somebody, I realized, could understand exactly where I was coming from. I'd never had a conversation with someone like that . . .
And I can get sex any day. This couldn't wait.
'Yes, really. I have a brother,' I told her. 'His name is Jack, and he's a lot younger than I am. I think he's nine, ten this year. He tells everyone that he can see ghosts, and they reject him. My mother, well, she put him in therapy and everything, and still, he doesn't get it. He hates his life, and the ghosts scare him. And he hates mum for making him go through all of it. I never told him that I was the same as him, because I knew he'd tell. "Oh, tell 'em, Paul! You're like me! We can both see ghosts! We are both freaks!" I don't think I'm a freak. I know I'm very aware of what I am. Jack was just a medium, but I'm something more than that,' I said, and paused.
Okay, for the love of God, don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't "opening up" and letting all my bottled up feelings out. No, that's not my style. I knew exactly what I was saying, and all of that little speech was carefully crafted to give Suze the IDEA that I was a troubled little boy or something. No, I was just going to trick her into learning more about shifting.
'What are you?' she breathed. My God, what a great audience. It was as if she was watching a soap opera, and they were just about to reveal who the father of "the baby" was or something. I mean, how corny was it? I would have burst out laughing if it hadn't been so beneficial to me for her to know - or want to know - about shifting.
'I'm a shifter,' I whispered back.
"And yes," says Kelly Osbourne, "The award for the worst acting goes to . . . Paul Slater!"
I'd like to thank my mum . . . really. Oh, gimme a break.
Suze looked confused. 'What the hell is a shifter?'
I told her. 'A shifter is a lot like a medium - or mediator, as you prefer - because we can still talk to, hear, feel and see the dead. But we can do more. So much more. One of our extra powers, you just discovered for yourself, Suze.'
She blinked. 'Huh?'
I looked at her intensely. 'You know? The whole, moving across the astral plane thing? Yeah, that's known as shifting.'
'Oh . . .' she muttered. I was losing interest, damn it!
'And you know what that means?' I asked dramatically, moving my face a little closer to hers to set the mood.
'N . . . No?'
I smiled. 'You're a shifter too, Suze,' I generously revealed. My God, this was so stupid . . .
She didn't looked too shocked. Huh? She was supposed to fan her face and faint or something, not raise her eyebrows at me!
'Er, Paul? I kind of gathered that,' she said, rolling her eyes, and slumping in her bed. That was when I realized that she had been putting on a big "innocent, oblivious girl" act too.
Goes to show how similar we are.
But it was annoying.
'Look,' I snapped menacingly, 'If you're not going to listen to what I have to say willingly, I'll make you.'
She started to shake sarcastically. 'R-r-really? Oh, g-g-g-gosh! I'm t-t-t- terrified, honest! Now, p-p-p-p- PISS OFF!'
Now I was angry. She was mocking me. Nobody had ever mocked me and had kept their nose healthy. Not that I was going to smash her nose in. Oh please. Give me some credit. No, I'd do what I was doing before . . .
I leant forward and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against her pillows. It was very satisfying to see that sarcastic, smug look fade from her eyes like sand in an hourglass. My face was only like, I dunno, five centimeters away from hers. If I wasn't so pissed off with her, I would have kissed her romantically so something, but no. I'd get something out of her; I'd waited long enough.
'Get off me,' she said.
'No.'
'Get off, or I'll make you regret it.'
'Um . . . no. Nothing you could do could scare me, Susie,' I smirked complacently. I mean, Suze? Not the scary type. I mean, sure, she could flip me over her back and kick me in the nuts, but it wasn't like it was lasting.
What I could do to her would scar her for life . . .
But then, I saw her forehead wrinkle in pain. Her whole face contorted, in fact. What? Did she want sympathy? I totally knew she was faking it . . .
'Ah, shit,' she whispered.
'What's wrong?' I asked. Okay, so I wasn't going to . . . you know, if she really was sick or whatever. I'm not that low.
'Nothing, just I have a migraine or something,' she said.
Of course . . . Post shifting. I forgot to tell her . . .
Well, she didn't need to be put off the whole thing even more. So, I just got off her, and stood back. She sat up, and held her forehead in her hands, moaning softly. I remembered my first post-shifting headache. It was the pits, I tell you.
I dematerialized out. What? Look, I wasn't going to go get her a little tablet and a nice glass of water for her. I'm not that sucky. I left her while she was sick. I mean, it's no fun when the other person's sick, is it?
And you know exactly what I mean.
~*~
So, I was just sitting on the roof of her house. That's where I always go. Either that or the beach. I love waves, aye. And surfing. Pity good-boy Jesse De Back-stabber didn't consider any of that when he made me eat lead. That's right, I was shot. In the head, too! I ask, where the f* is the justice in this world? Me, a ghost, while Rico bloody Suave gets to live? And here I was, craving, well, satisfaction, and there was no one to give it to me. Whereas if I was ALIVE, I could have so easily gotten some stupid slut off the street to come up with me. But noooo. I was a GHOST. I was DEAD. And De Stupid was sitting pretty in his house, ALIVE.
So, I was angry, AND horny. Not a good combination, especially if I couldn't get rid of the feeling.
Hang on . . .
Something that Suze once said occurred to me . . .
"I met a girl named Heather on my first day . . ." she'd said. "Oh, and she's a ghost . . . "
And what else? Something like "blonde, pretty, great bod, full tan, hip dresser, hey! Your type of girl."
I only hope she wasn't joking . . .
~*~
I was standing at Suze's school, the Juniperro Serra Mission Academy. What a sad name. Beside me, was this really tall gold statue of some monkey- looking guy with all these native chicks dancing around him. Lucky bastard. I mean, those chicks were hot, despite the fact they were kind of solid.
But yeah.
I walked silently through the door of the school, which lead into a wide hallway, full with clean looking lockers. Everything would have been very grey during the day, but was now cast into darkness. I strained my ears. God, if I didn't find her soon, I was going to have to resort to ma-
Oh, Paul, don't think of that . . .
Then, to my joy, I heard a sign of feminine inhabitation. It was a long, blood-curling scream of frustration, coming from down the hallway, closely followed by the tinkling sound of shattering glass. I silently made my way to the source of the shrill shriek, and stood at the door of where I assumed she was. I stepped through the door.
Let us all praise Suze Simon!
Holy shit, she'd been right! I stared at the babe before me. She was crying hysterically, and ditching chairs at the windows.
Damn! She was FINE.
Well, to be honest, she was nothing compared to Suze. I mean, the boobs were too small, the butt was too big, and the face had this really annoying look on it. But still, for a ghost!
You are one lucky bastard, Paul.
'Well, well, well. It's not a very good night to be on your own, in a dark, scary school. You might see a ghost,' I said. Yes, in a very enticing, sexy way. And the way she'd just totally dropped the chair and tensed up? Well, that was very rewarding.
She turned around, and gawked at me. I could see her melting. Well, who wouldn't? I am considered as a major hottie. Even Suze did it when she first met me, even though she's not willing to admit it to the general public. So the reaction was completely normal. I smirked. Oh, you still got it, Paul . . .
'Who are you?' she asked nervously, and suddenly became very conscious of her hair. My smirk widened. I narrowed my eyes, and looked her up and down again. She was wearing this little denim, pleated schoolgirl skirt, which was cute enough, but the top? A little daggy cardigan? She must have been down when she died. That cardigan HAD to go . . .
But you know, even though I liked the skirt, that *cough* had to go too . . .
'Me?' I asked, 'Who are you?'
That's when she got her confidence. 'I asked you first,' she smiled seductively.
Yes! She was a player! Oh, tonight was going to be so much fun.
I took a step toward her. 'Well,' I said, standing right over her, 'I guess I can tell you that . . . because I already know that you're Heather. Just call me . . . Paul.
'Paul,' she said, touching my arm and fluttering her eyelashes, 'I just loooooove that name . . . '
My God. This was so obvious that she wanted me. But then, I always went for these girls back when I was alive. The ones who didn't care about commitment and love and shit like that. No strings attached
(A/N: Little does Paul know, lol.)
'I know,' I said, sliding my hand behind her back, 'So do I . . .'
And with that, I dematerialized with her to my old bedroom, in my old house in Seattle, the one I lived in before I was killed. So what if Jack heard? He'd be too scared to come and check . . .
And as usual, there was a BED in there . . .
~*~
No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You are too young for . . . er, what went down. Well? Okay, me, but I'm talking about the icky sticky details. But let me say, that girl was good. So good, she almost put ME to shame.
Almost.
Because, after all, I'm the king.
She liked me a lot, too. Me and my big . . . friend.
So, we were lying in my bed, panting. It had only been an hour, but I was very satisfied.
'So,' she said affectionately, snuggling against me, 'Paul.'
Oh no . . . not talking . . .
'Yes?' I groaned. She ran her hand across my chest, and sighed. Great . . .
'You know, you're not like other guys I've met,' she smiled at me. No, no, NO!
'You know what?' I said, hoping to turn her off, 'How did you die?'
Well, it worked. She went very stiff, and then turned away from me. 'Oh, uh, sorry,' I said, not meaning it of course, 'I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories. So, what happened? Car accident, or something? Isn't that annoying, how people steal your life?'
'For your information, Paul,' she said with icy cold bitterness, 'I committed SUICIDE.'
'Oh.'
Oops . . .
She was glaring at me. But then she sighed. 'Well, I suppose you want to know why?'
'Well, actually -'
'It was because of my ex-boyfriend,' she interrupted, not hearing me. 'His name was Bryce. Bryce Martinsen. I was in love with him. I thought we were going to get married. I'd already thought of what I was going to call my daughter. Martina. Isn't that such a sweet name?' she asked dreamily, turning to face me.
Er . . . Martina Martinsen? Is she INSANE?
'Yes, nice,' I said, trying not to gag.
'Well,' she continued, her expression changing back like lightning, 'I'd just taken him shopping, and I saw the most gorgeous engagement ring ever. It was 18 carat, and had this huge diamond on it, surrounded by these little sapphires. I told him that was the one I wanted, and he went all pale and everything. We went wandering for a bit more, when he said . . . he said . . .' she let out a loud hiccup, trying not to cry, 'that he thought it wasn't going to work out between us, and that he couldn't see us having a future. And the bastard ended it! JUST LIKE THAT!'
She yelled that last bit out. My head was pounding. I HATE it when chicks babble about their old boyfriends. I mean, what a TURN OFF.
Suddenly, I realized something. I had to get rid of her, or Suze might find out!
I didn't think of that before. God, if she knew, she'd never sleep with me. I blew it!
That's right.
Thinking quick, I said, 'Where's this asshole Bryce at the moment then, baby?'
She frowned. 'His family's staying at this stupid Resort in New York. Can you believe that? How that Susannah skank came from there, and now my boyfriend went there. Father Dominic made him transfer, saying that he was in danger. Too true . . . He didn't think he'd be able to get me to leave without help. He didn't know about Simon then-'
'What resort?' I asked urgently.
'Uh . . . Something like "Le Grande Hotel" or something . . . ' (A/N: Yeah, I KNOW. It sucks, but hey? I panicked . . . )
I sat up, subconsciously clinging my T-shirt to me. What? We were ghosts. We had no use for sheets and blankets, because if we didn't always concentrate on them, they'd merge straight through us. Our clothes were "dead," like us, so we could always feel them. But yeah . . .
'Okay,' I said, starting to grin. I mean, this was getting fun now. 'How would you like to get revenge on this faggot then? He doesn't deserve you, Heather.'
She widened her eyes, beaming at me with love and admiration. I felt nauseous.
'Really? You think that?' she hiccuped.
'Yeah, yeah, now about the revenge thing?' I said with annoyance. Jeez, I can see why the poor bastard dumped her. I mean, she was a great lay and all, but that was under-compensating how clinging and annoying she was. Eugh, she wanted to be treated like some fossilized flower or something. Well, excuse me, but she needed to be crushed quickly.
And the best way to do that is to get her to pass on into her afterlife. Hopefully Eternal Damnation . . .
She thought for a second . . . Then, an angry look came to her face. 'I'll do it! But, er, what do you mean by . . . revenge?'
I laughed. How oblivious can you get?
'What else? I mean, kill him.'
She looked evanescently scandalized, but then an evil smile spread across her thin lips.
'Done.'
'Okay, well, get dressed, I'll be back in a second, and we'll go to this Le Grande Hotel or whatever, and we'll kill him . . .'
~*~
I'm a man true to my word. Well, okay, I'm not, but this time I was. I mean, I was getting something out of this, wasn't I? Suze would never know I slept with Heather if I made her move on by killing what she thought was holding her back. So yeah, within ten minutes, I was standing outside the Le Grande Hotel thing in New York.
With a gun.
Oh, and Heather brought some lipstick too.
No, not for vanity purposes, I needed it for my plan. And yes, I did have a plan. I'm very organized, you see.
But, uh, impulsive when I wanted to be, if the way I handle Suze is any indication.
So yeah, this Hotel place. It looked really expensive, with all the beige and the black paint everywhere. It was very posh and all. I mean, nothing less of what my family would have stayed in. The Martinsens were obviously very well off.
Well money couldn't save Bryce Martinsen now.
Heather nodded at me, and we both materialized to the foyer. There was some guy at the reception desk, typing madly on a computer. I had a closer look, and saw he was looking at something not too professional. I mean, it was something that I'd look at, but I don't have a full time job, do I?
I walked past him - he couldn't see me, could he? - and looked in this book that was on the desk. Inside was a register of all the tenants. I ran my finger down the list, till I came to the Martinsen family. They were in Room 273 on the fourth floor. I grinned, and then decided to play a little trick on the reception guy. I mean, surely he shouldn't have been looking at such inappropriate sites, right? Well, he needed to be taught a lesson.
And I was more than happy to be the teacher.
I sauntered over to his computer, and yanked out the switch. The screen zoomed into a tiny black square and shut off completely. The reception dude knit his eyebrows.
'Huh?'
He looked around to check if there had been a full power cut, but no, the rest of the lights were still working, right?
Then, I went over to the light switch, and started flicking them on and off. The lights flashed madly. He looked terrified.
'Come out!' he yelled, digging his hand into the drawer 'I've got a gun!'
I smiled, and made myself visible. (Yes, ex-shifters can do that, but it's really hard.) 'So have I.'
His face was the zenith of terror at that moment. It went white and sweaty, and his hands began to shake.
'Please,' he stuttered, 'I-'
BANG.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
Heather cackled with glee. I turned to her and rolled my eyes. 'Don't try any of this at home, kids,' I said to myself, and blew the top of the gun in a cowboy manner. 'Come on baby, the fourth floor for us, Room 273.'
We materialized up there. The hallway was bathed in a warm light. Well, that wouldn't do at all. I concentrated on the light bulbs all down the hall, and within a second, they all blew up with the tinkling of fracturing glass, with fine smoke settling to the ground. I smirked. I was getting wild again. And when I'm wild, I can't seem to stop what happens.
Nor do I want to.
I came to the door of the Martinsen's room with Heather standing next to me, clinging onto her skirt nervously, but clutching her lipstick. She looked really determined, in an annoying way.
I'm sorry, but I was really coming to dislike the skank.
We walked straight through the door, and through to a really flash hotel living area. Everything was cast into darkness, and had a very settled atmosphere to it. I clutched the gun in my hand, and Heather followed me into the first bedroom.
'First time lucky,' whispered Heather. 'That's him . . .'
The dude was lying, asleep in his twisted sheets, with just his boxers on. I looked sideways at Heather, and I saw that she was glaring so intensely at him, that the mirror on the wall shook, and fell to the floor.
Bryce's POV
Crap!
I sat upright. Damn, I'd been having the best dream about riding this great wave, and then something has to crash. I looked dully around, and saw that my mirror had fallen.
Who gives? I'd get someone from the hotel to clean it in the morning. I was tired.
I was about to go back to sleep when I saw something full weird. There was a GUN floating at the opposite corner of my room. I rubbed my eyes, but nope, it was still there.
Jeez, Aaron had slipped me a few too many whiskeys tonight. No more partying with him . . . I looked once again at the gun, but it was gone. But, there instead, was a little floating lipstick.
STOP WITH THE FLOATING CRAP ALREADY!
I was drunk. I wasn't seeing this, it wasn't real. Go to sleep, Bryce, who gives a crap about some hallucination you're having.
But now, the lipstick was moving. The cap had been pulled off, and it was going really close to the wall.
And then, to my horror, I saw the most terrifying thing in my life. Somebody was writing on the wall with lipstick, but it was no one I could see . . .
"Hey Brycie, it's me. Remember? You're girlfriend, Heather? Or, should I say, EX-girlfriend. I just want to say that I'm now a ghost. I didn't move on, I'm stuck haunting our old school. Which really sucks, you know? So, I'm going to make myself feel better. And for that, I have a friend to help me with that."
Oh no . . . This was SO a dream. I stopped having dreams about Heather long ago. What is up with this?
But I had this really bad feeling that I wasn't asleep.
I stared at the message. This was totally not cool. I was hallucinating. I mean, lipstick doesn't float, and it doesn't write messages from dead girlfriends on five star hotel walls. I mean, you know how annoying that would be to clean?
But then, I noticed that gun that I had seen before, aimed right at my head. Oooh no . . .
'This is NOT funny!' I yelled. It had to be strings . . . Fishing line! These things don't float!
And then all things around my room started to shake.
Paul's POV
The stupid dickhead . . . He was screaming. I mean, really, how big a wuss was he? I don't scream like that. Heather was pretty angry by now. She was yelling things at him, even though he couldn't even hear her.
'This serves you right, Bryce! I loved you! I wanted to marry you, I loved you so much, and then you just go and blow me off like I don't matter. Well guess what? We're going to blow you off . . . Your head, to be exact!'
'Heather?' he screamed. Yeah, as in, way high-pitched, 'If that's you, I'm sorry!'
'You bet your sorry ass it's me, Bryce!' she shrieked.
Everything in his room began to shake. The mirror totally shattered, and all the paintings fell to the floor. I thought that this whole thing was hilarious.
'He can't hear you, remember baby?' I said flatly, smirking in mirth. I mean, this has to be the only way to get kicks . . . I hadn't had this much fun in six months.
Furiously, she wrote 'Yes' under her earlier message. He was breathing fully hard now. I laughed, relishing his alarm.
I shoved the gun right by his face, and his pupils went so tiny, it was abnormal. My God, the living react so badly, don't they now?
'I will see you in hell, Bryce,' Heather said with such bitter coldness, that even I got a shiver.
'Please! No, I'm sorry, Heather, I -'
Oops. My finger accidentally slipped onto the trigger. Really it did . . .
**************************************************************************** *******************************
A/N: Cliffie? I usually suck at them . . . Well, I'm sorry to waste such a hottie, but it had to off him. Life sucks, doesn't it?
Oooh . . .I just had an idea. Okay, so Bryce is kinda dead, you realize. Should he come back as a ghost? I want opinions!
Okay, REVIEW NOW, and tell me what you think.
I'm so evil . . .
**************************************************************************** ********************************
Paul's POV.
As soon as Suze had shifted us back into her room, I knew I was in trouble. We were both lying on her bed, but I felt her shoulders go oddly tense. Oh well, I was prepared for anything.
'Paul?' came her voice from beside me. I wasn't going to be a coward and dematerialize, plainly because I had her right where I wanted her. I bet you anything that the next question she asked was going to be about shifting . . . You watch . . .
'Yeah, Susie?'
'WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!' she turned to me and roared in my face.
I sat up, mildly stunned. Okay, well, I don't think any mental problems of mine could fit into the shifting category, damn it. So I was wrong? But you watch her next question . . .
'Well? Are you on crack?!' she demanded.
Oooh, this was disappointing. Twice wrong. Not exactly an ego-booster. Although, ask any chick I've done, I don't need one. I got off the bed, and so did she.
'Excuse me?' she shrilled, 'You don't make a girl materialize to some parallel universe, and then leave her hanging. I want answers, bucko. How the hell did I do that?' Her face was white with a mixture of rage and fright.
I smirked. Third time lucky, yes. I'm a very lucky bugger.
Well, besides the fact that I'm dead. I mean, let's review. I was killed at the age of seventeen. I mean, doesn't everyone want to die young, and look pretty? Well, damn, I do. Or did, I dunno. And, I
happened to die in the very room that a very beautiful, very HOT sixteen year old chick now inhabits. I mean, if that's not lucky, I don't know what is. And plus, I'm in very good shape, so it's only a
matter of time before she gives in and falls for my charm.
Oh, I'm not arrogant at ALL.
'HELLO! I'm talking to you, you prick!' Suze was yelling at me. I snapped back to reality. Hey? I'm a guy who sees the glass as half-full. Don't ruin it for me, okay?
I turned back to her, still smirking. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was looking way, way mad. Nothing I couldn't handle . . .
'Sorry, must have missed that,' I said coolly. She took a menacing step towards me, but please . . . The babe was a foot shorter, as if was scared?
She just glared. 'I asked,' she said through gritted teeth, 'What this is about "shifting." Because -'
'Oh,' I said simply, 'You want to listen to me now?' I wasn't going to play games, because I knew if I was too cocky, she wouldn't want me to tell her.
'Well, if you're going to be such a -' she began, but I stopped her. Well, stopped isn't really the word for what I did. Oh, I was fast. Very fast. I like fast, you see. Quick as the cunning snake I am, I
scooped her into me, and while she was still shocked, I kissed her.
Hard.
I also like hard too.
I couldn't tell if she was protesting to this or not, and frankly, I didn't care. My hand strayed down to her ass, and yeah, I gave it a little squeeze. So what? She didn't need to stop, did she?
'PAUL!' she squealed, and pushed me away from her in outrage. Her eyes were so wide I could see the entire circles of her dazzling emerald irises.
'What?' I asked defensively. 'You know that you've been wanting this, Suze.'
'Is that what you really think?' she retorted, still backing away from me slowly, like I was an escaped panther that was advancing on her at some zoo. I grinned. She was just playing hard to get . . .
'Well, you can fully tell, Suze. I mean, come on! We've been together for almost a month now, and we still haven't -'
'Paul, we are NOT together. We are two very different people who were thrown together in a very awkward situation due to the fact that you haven't passed on into your afterlife yet!'
'Well, let's make the best of this awkward situation,' I said seductively, and pushed her down against her bed. Her eyes went wide.
'Paul, you - you do anything, and I swear, I'll scream!' she warned, her voice shaking slightly. I knew what she was feeling. All her life, she was acting like the medium that she was supposed to be, all tough and ruthless, but that was just covering the fact that she was still just a girl, all vulnerable, and very attractive to men.
But what she said made me smirk. 'Oh yeah, Suze. And what will they find when they come in here? You on a bed, screaming? I'm invisible to them, remember? Mum'll chuck you straight into a nut house. And that's what you've been trying to keep from her all your life, isn't it? That you can speak to the dead. That's what you will never tell her, even if it kills you . . .'
Her eyes went even wider, if possible. And I guess it was, because they did.
'How did you know that?' she whispered softly.
My smirk faded.
'I was exactly the same,' I said.
Her mouth fell open. 'Really?' she asked, and sat up a bit. I forgot about what I wanted to do to her. Somebody, I realized, could understand exactly where I was coming from. I'd never had a conversation with someone like that . . .
And I can get sex any day. This couldn't wait.
'Yes, really. I have a brother,' I told her. 'His name is Jack, and he's a lot younger than I am. I think he's nine, ten this year. He tells everyone that he can see ghosts, and they reject him. My mother, well, she put him in therapy and everything, and still, he doesn't get it. He hates his life, and the ghosts scare him. And he hates mum for making him go through all of it. I never told him that I was the same as him, because I knew he'd tell. "Oh, tell 'em, Paul! You're like me! We can both see ghosts! We are both freaks!" I don't think I'm a freak. I know I'm very aware of what I am. Jack was just a medium, but I'm something more than that,' I said, and paused.
Okay, for the love of God, don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't "opening up" and letting all my bottled up feelings out. No, that's not my style. I knew exactly what I was saying, and all of that little speech was carefully crafted to give Suze the IDEA that I was a troubled little boy or something. No, I was just going to trick her into learning more about shifting.
'What are you?' she breathed. My God, what a great audience. It was as if she was watching a soap opera, and they were just about to reveal who the father of "the baby" was or something. I mean, how corny was it? I would have burst out laughing if it hadn't been so beneficial to me for her to know - or want to know - about shifting.
'I'm a shifter,' I whispered back.
"And yes," says Kelly Osbourne, "The award for the worst acting goes to . . . Paul Slater!"
I'd like to thank my mum . . . really. Oh, gimme a break.
Suze looked confused. 'What the hell is a shifter?'
I told her. 'A shifter is a lot like a medium - or mediator, as you prefer - because we can still talk to, hear, feel and see the dead. But we can do more. So much more. One of our extra powers, you just discovered for yourself, Suze.'
She blinked. 'Huh?'
I looked at her intensely. 'You know? The whole, moving across the astral plane thing? Yeah, that's known as shifting.'
'Oh . . .' she muttered. I was losing interest, damn it!
'And you know what that means?' I asked dramatically, moving my face a little closer to hers to set the mood.
'N . . . No?'
I smiled. 'You're a shifter too, Suze,' I generously revealed. My God, this was so stupid . . .
She didn't looked too shocked. Huh? She was supposed to fan her face and faint or something, not raise her eyebrows at me!
'Er, Paul? I kind of gathered that,' she said, rolling her eyes, and slumping in her bed. That was when I realized that she had been putting on a big "innocent, oblivious girl" act too.
Goes to show how similar we are.
But it was annoying.
'Look,' I snapped menacingly, 'If you're not going to listen to what I have to say willingly, I'll make you.'
She started to shake sarcastically. 'R-r-really? Oh, g-g-g-gosh! I'm t-t-t- terrified, honest! Now, p-p-p-p- PISS OFF!'
Now I was angry. She was mocking me. Nobody had ever mocked me and had kept their nose healthy. Not that I was going to smash her nose in. Oh please. Give me some credit. No, I'd do what I was doing before . . .
I leant forward and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against her pillows. It was very satisfying to see that sarcastic, smug look fade from her eyes like sand in an hourglass. My face was only like, I dunno, five centimeters away from hers. If I wasn't so pissed off with her, I would have kissed her romantically so something, but no. I'd get something out of her; I'd waited long enough.
'Get off me,' she said.
'No.'
'Get off, or I'll make you regret it.'
'Um . . . no. Nothing you could do could scare me, Susie,' I smirked complacently. I mean, Suze? Not the scary type. I mean, sure, she could flip me over her back and kick me in the nuts, but it wasn't like it was lasting.
What I could do to her would scar her for life . . .
But then, I saw her forehead wrinkle in pain. Her whole face contorted, in fact. What? Did she want sympathy? I totally knew she was faking it . . .
'Ah, shit,' she whispered.
'What's wrong?' I asked. Okay, so I wasn't going to . . . you know, if she really was sick or whatever. I'm not that low.
'Nothing, just I have a migraine or something,' she said.
Of course . . . Post shifting. I forgot to tell her . . .
Well, she didn't need to be put off the whole thing even more. So, I just got off her, and stood back. She sat up, and held her forehead in her hands, moaning softly. I remembered my first post-shifting headache. It was the pits, I tell you.
I dematerialized out. What? Look, I wasn't going to go get her a little tablet and a nice glass of water for her. I'm not that sucky. I left her while she was sick. I mean, it's no fun when the other person's sick, is it?
And you know exactly what I mean.
~*~
So, I was just sitting on the roof of her house. That's where I always go. Either that or the beach. I love waves, aye. And surfing. Pity good-boy Jesse De Back-stabber didn't consider any of that when he made me eat lead. That's right, I was shot. In the head, too! I ask, where the f* is the justice in this world? Me, a ghost, while Rico bloody Suave gets to live? And here I was, craving, well, satisfaction, and there was no one to give it to me. Whereas if I was ALIVE, I could have so easily gotten some stupid slut off the street to come up with me. But noooo. I was a GHOST. I was DEAD. And De Stupid was sitting pretty in his house, ALIVE.
So, I was angry, AND horny. Not a good combination, especially if I couldn't get rid of the feeling.
Hang on . . .
Something that Suze once said occurred to me . . .
"I met a girl named Heather on my first day . . ." she'd said. "Oh, and she's a ghost . . . "
And what else? Something like "blonde, pretty, great bod, full tan, hip dresser, hey! Your type of girl."
I only hope she wasn't joking . . .
~*~
I was standing at Suze's school, the Juniperro Serra Mission Academy. What a sad name. Beside me, was this really tall gold statue of some monkey- looking guy with all these native chicks dancing around him. Lucky bastard. I mean, those chicks were hot, despite the fact they were kind of solid.
But yeah.
I walked silently through the door of the school, which lead into a wide hallway, full with clean looking lockers. Everything would have been very grey during the day, but was now cast into darkness. I strained my ears. God, if I didn't find her soon, I was going to have to resort to ma-
Oh, Paul, don't think of that . . .
Then, to my joy, I heard a sign of feminine inhabitation. It was a long, blood-curling scream of frustration, coming from down the hallway, closely followed by the tinkling sound of shattering glass. I silently made my way to the source of the shrill shriek, and stood at the door of where I assumed she was. I stepped through the door.
Let us all praise Suze Simon!
Holy shit, she'd been right! I stared at the babe before me. She was crying hysterically, and ditching chairs at the windows.
Damn! She was FINE.
Well, to be honest, she was nothing compared to Suze. I mean, the boobs were too small, the butt was too big, and the face had this really annoying look on it. But still, for a ghost!
You are one lucky bastard, Paul.
'Well, well, well. It's not a very good night to be on your own, in a dark, scary school. You might see a ghost,' I said. Yes, in a very enticing, sexy way. And the way she'd just totally dropped the chair and tensed up? Well, that was very rewarding.
She turned around, and gawked at me. I could see her melting. Well, who wouldn't? I am considered as a major hottie. Even Suze did it when she first met me, even though she's not willing to admit it to the general public. So the reaction was completely normal. I smirked. Oh, you still got it, Paul . . .
'Who are you?' she asked nervously, and suddenly became very conscious of her hair. My smirk widened. I narrowed my eyes, and looked her up and down again. She was wearing this little denim, pleated schoolgirl skirt, which was cute enough, but the top? A little daggy cardigan? She must have been down when she died. That cardigan HAD to go . . .
But you know, even though I liked the skirt, that *cough* had to go too . . .
'Me?' I asked, 'Who are you?'
That's when she got her confidence. 'I asked you first,' she smiled seductively.
Yes! She was a player! Oh, tonight was going to be so much fun.
I took a step toward her. 'Well,' I said, standing right over her, 'I guess I can tell you that . . . because I already know that you're Heather. Just call me . . . Paul.
'Paul,' she said, touching my arm and fluttering her eyelashes, 'I just loooooove that name . . . '
My God. This was so obvious that she wanted me. But then, I always went for these girls back when I was alive. The ones who didn't care about commitment and love and shit like that. No strings attached
(A/N: Little does Paul know, lol.)
'I know,' I said, sliding my hand behind her back, 'So do I . . .'
And with that, I dematerialized with her to my old bedroom, in my old house in Seattle, the one I lived in before I was killed. So what if Jack heard? He'd be too scared to come and check . . .
And as usual, there was a BED in there . . .
~*~
No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You are too young for . . . er, what went down. Well? Okay, me, but I'm talking about the icky sticky details. But let me say, that girl was good. So good, she almost put ME to shame.
Almost.
Because, after all, I'm the king.
She liked me a lot, too. Me and my big . . . friend.
So, we were lying in my bed, panting. It had only been an hour, but I was very satisfied.
'So,' she said affectionately, snuggling against me, 'Paul.'
Oh no . . . not talking . . .
'Yes?' I groaned. She ran her hand across my chest, and sighed. Great . . .
'You know, you're not like other guys I've met,' she smiled at me. No, no, NO!
'You know what?' I said, hoping to turn her off, 'How did you die?'
Well, it worked. She went very stiff, and then turned away from me. 'Oh, uh, sorry,' I said, not meaning it of course, 'I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories. So, what happened? Car accident, or something? Isn't that annoying, how people steal your life?'
'For your information, Paul,' she said with icy cold bitterness, 'I committed SUICIDE.'
'Oh.'
Oops . . .
She was glaring at me. But then she sighed. 'Well, I suppose you want to know why?'
'Well, actually -'
'It was because of my ex-boyfriend,' she interrupted, not hearing me. 'His name was Bryce. Bryce Martinsen. I was in love with him. I thought we were going to get married. I'd already thought of what I was going to call my daughter. Martina. Isn't that such a sweet name?' she asked dreamily, turning to face me.
Er . . . Martina Martinsen? Is she INSANE?
'Yes, nice,' I said, trying not to gag.
'Well,' she continued, her expression changing back like lightning, 'I'd just taken him shopping, and I saw the most gorgeous engagement ring ever. It was 18 carat, and had this huge diamond on it, surrounded by these little sapphires. I told him that was the one I wanted, and he went all pale and everything. We went wandering for a bit more, when he said . . . he said . . .' she let out a loud hiccup, trying not to cry, 'that he thought it wasn't going to work out between us, and that he couldn't see us having a future. And the bastard ended it! JUST LIKE THAT!'
She yelled that last bit out. My head was pounding. I HATE it when chicks babble about their old boyfriends. I mean, what a TURN OFF.
Suddenly, I realized something. I had to get rid of her, or Suze might find out!
I didn't think of that before. God, if she knew, she'd never sleep with me. I blew it!
That's right.
Thinking quick, I said, 'Where's this asshole Bryce at the moment then, baby?'
She frowned. 'His family's staying at this stupid Resort in New York. Can you believe that? How that Susannah skank came from there, and now my boyfriend went there. Father Dominic made him transfer, saying that he was in danger. Too true . . . He didn't think he'd be able to get me to leave without help. He didn't know about Simon then-'
'What resort?' I asked urgently.
'Uh . . . Something like "Le Grande Hotel" or something . . . ' (A/N: Yeah, I KNOW. It sucks, but hey? I panicked . . . )
I sat up, subconsciously clinging my T-shirt to me. What? We were ghosts. We had no use for sheets and blankets, because if we didn't always concentrate on them, they'd merge straight through us. Our clothes were "dead," like us, so we could always feel them. But yeah . . .
'Okay,' I said, starting to grin. I mean, this was getting fun now. 'How would you like to get revenge on this faggot then? He doesn't deserve you, Heather.'
She widened her eyes, beaming at me with love and admiration. I felt nauseous.
'Really? You think that?' she hiccuped.
'Yeah, yeah, now about the revenge thing?' I said with annoyance. Jeez, I can see why the poor bastard dumped her. I mean, she was a great lay and all, but that was under-compensating how clinging and annoying she was. Eugh, she wanted to be treated like some fossilized flower or something. Well, excuse me, but she needed to be crushed quickly.
And the best way to do that is to get her to pass on into her afterlife. Hopefully Eternal Damnation . . .
She thought for a second . . . Then, an angry look came to her face. 'I'll do it! But, er, what do you mean by . . . revenge?'
I laughed. How oblivious can you get?
'What else? I mean, kill him.'
She looked evanescently scandalized, but then an evil smile spread across her thin lips.
'Done.'
'Okay, well, get dressed, I'll be back in a second, and we'll go to this Le Grande Hotel or whatever, and we'll kill him . . .'
~*~
I'm a man true to my word. Well, okay, I'm not, but this time I was. I mean, I was getting something out of this, wasn't I? Suze would never know I slept with Heather if I made her move on by killing what she thought was holding her back. So yeah, within ten minutes, I was standing outside the Le Grande Hotel thing in New York.
With a gun.
Oh, and Heather brought some lipstick too.
No, not for vanity purposes, I needed it for my plan. And yes, I did have a plan. I'm very organized, you see.
But, uh, impulsive when I wanted to be, if the way I handle Suze is any indication.
So yeah, this Hotel place. It looked really expensive, with all the beige and the black paint everywhere. It was very posh and all. I mean, nothing less of what my family would have stayed in. The Martinsens were obviously very well off.
Well money couldn't save Bryce Martinsen now.
Heather nodded at me, and we both materialized to the foyer. There was some guy at the reception desk, typing madly on a computer. I had a closer look, and saw he was looking at something not too professional. I mean, it was something that I'd look at, but I don't have a full time job, do I?
I walked past him - he couldn't see me, could he? - and looked in this book that was on the desk. Inside was a register of all the tenants. I ran my finger down the list, till I came to the Martinsen family. They were in Room 273 on the fourth floor. I grinned, and then decided to play a little trick on the reception guy. I mean, surely he shouldn't have been looking at such inappropriate sites, right? Well, he needed to be taught a lesson.
And I was more than happy to be the teacher.
I sauntered over to his computer, and yanked out the switch. The screen zoomed into a tiny black square and shut off completely. The reception dude knit his eyebrows.
'Huh?'
He looked around to check if there had been a full power cut, but no, the rest of the lights were still working, right?
Then, I went over to the light switch, and started flicking them on and off. The lights flashed madly. He looked terrified.
'Come out!' he yelled, digging his hand into the drawer 'I've got a gun!'
I smiled, and made myself visible. (Yes, ex-shifters can do that, but it's really hard.) 'So have I.'
His face was the zenith of terror at that moment. It went white and sweaty, and his hands began to shake.
'Please,' he stuttered, 'I-'
BANG.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
Heather cackled with glee. I turned to her and rolled my eyes. 'Don't try any of this at home, kids,' I said to myself, and blew the top of the gun in a cowboy manner. 'Come on baby, the fourth floor for us, Room 273.'
We materialized up there. The hallway was bathed in a warm light. Well, that wouldn't do at all. I concentrated on the light bulbs all down the hall, and within a second, they all blew up with the tinkling of fracturing glass, with fine smoke settling to the ground. I smirked. I was getting wild again. And when I'm wild, I can't seem to stop what happens.
Nor do I want to.
I came to the door of the Martinsen's room with Heather standing next to me, clinging onto her skirt nervously, but clutching her lipstick. She looked really determined, in an annoying way.
I'm sorry, but I was really coming to dislike the skank.
We walked straight through the door, and through to a really flash hotel living area. Everything was cast into darkness, and had a very settled atmosphere to it. I clutched the gun in my hand, and Heather followed me into the first bedroom.
'First time lucky,' whispered Heather. 'That's him . . .'
The dude was lying, asleep in his twisted sheets, with just his boxers on. I looked sideways at Heather, and I saw that she was glaring so intensely at him, that the mirror on the wall shook, and fell to the floor.
Bryce's POV
Crap!
I sat upright. Damn, I'd been having the best dream about riding this great wave, and then something has to crash. I looked dully around, and saw that my mirror had fallen.
Who gives? I'd get someone from the hotel to clean it in the morning. I was tired.
I was about to go back to sleep when I saw something full weird. There was a GUN floating at the opposite corner of my room. I rubbed my eyes, but nope, it was still there.
Jeez, Aaron had slipped me a few too many whiskeys tonight. No more partying with him . . . I looked once again at the gun, but it was gone. But, there instead, was a little floating lipstick.
STOP WITH THE FLOATING CRAP ALREADY!
I was drunk. I wasn't seeing this, it wasn't real. Go to sleep, Bryce, who gives a crap about some hallucination you're having.
But now, the lipstick was moving. The cap had been pulled off, and it was going really close to the wall.
And then, to my horror, I saw the most terrifying thing in my life. Somebody was writing on the wall with lipstick, but it was no one I could see . . .
"Hey Brycie, it's me. Remember? You're girlfriend, Heather? Or, should I say, EX-girlfriend. I just want to say that I'm now a ghost. I didn't move on, I'm stuck haunting our old school. Which really sucks, you know? So, I'm going to make myself feel better. And for that, I have a friend to help me with that."
Oh no . . . This was SO a dream. I stopped having dreams about Heather long ago. What is up with this?
But I had this really bad feeling that I wasn't asleep.
I stared at the message. This was totally not cool. I was hallucinating. I mean, lipstick doesn't float, and it doesn't write messages from dead girlfriends on five star hotel walls. I mean, you know how annoying that would be to clean?
But then, I noticed that gun that I had seen before, aimed right at my head. Oooh no . . .
'This is NOT funny!' I yelled. It had to be strings . . . Fishing line! These things don't float!
And then all things around my room started to shake.
Paul's POV
The stupid dickhead . . . He was screaming. I mean, really, how big a wuss was he? I don't scream like that. Heather was pretty angry by now. She was yelling things at him, even though he couldn't even hear her.
'This serves you right, Bryce! I loved you! I wanted to marry you, I loved you so much, and then you just go and blow me off like I don't matter. Well guess what? We're going to blow you off . . . Your head, to be exact!'
'Heather?' he screamed. Yeah, as in, way high-pitched, 'If that's you, I'm sorry!'
'You bet your sorry ass it's me, Bryce!' she shrieked.
Everything in his room began to shake. The mirror totally shattered, and all the paintings fell to the floor. I thought that this whole thing was hilarious.
'He can't hear you, remember baby?' I said flatly, smirking in mirth. I mean, this has to be the only way to get kicks . . . I hadn't had this much fun in six months.
Furiously, she wrote 'Yes' under her earlier message. He was breathing fully hard now. I laughed, relishing his alarm.
I shoved the gun right by his face, and his pupils went so tiny, it was abnormal. My God, the living react so badly, don't they now?
'I will see you in hell, Bryce,' Heather said with such bitter coldness, that even I got a shiver.
'Please! No, I'm sorry, Heather, I -'
Oops. My finger accidentally slipped onto the trigger. Really it did . . .
**************************************************************************** *******************************
A/N: Cliffie? I usually suck at them . . . Well, I'm sorry to waste such a hottie, but it had to off him. Life sucks, doesn't it?
Oooh . . .I just had an idea. Okay, so Bryce is kinda dead, you realize. Should he come back as a ghost? I want opinions!
Okay, REVIEW NOW, and tell me what you think.
I'm so evil . . .