Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #3: Hell's Gate: Part 3

The next morning, I drove to Rose's apartment. As her first official job as a ghost hunter, she'd elected to not roll up to her client's house with silver tiger stripes all over her vehicle. Probably a smart move. But that meant she needed a ride.

I'd been Ubered. Only I wasn't getting paid for it.

"Am I getting paid for this?" I asked, barging into her apartment.

Years of friendship had let me know two things. One: her front door was unlocked. Two: she'd be in the bathroom, still getting ready, with loud music playing.

Sure enough, she stepped out of the bathroom when I stormed in, still working a straightener through her hair. Disney music wafted out after her. "Do what?"

"Am I getting paid for this?"

"Sure, I can pitch in for gas."

"No, I mean like as an employee. Am I getting paid for this?"

"You're on an unpaid probation period. If I like your work after this case, I'll consider giving you minimum wage."

My jaw dropped and she let out a booming laugh. "Of course you're getting paid," she giggled, waving her hand dismissively. "Split three ways, minus what I think is necessary for expenses. I am the boss, after all."

"How much?"

"Depends on how quickly we find the girl. But we've got $500.00 as a first installment, for expenses and stuff to get us started."

I let out a low whistle but then it died when Bronte stepped out of Rose's bedroom.

I felt sucker-punched. I hadn't forgotten that she was staying here, but it was a Friday morning. She should have been at work.

She wore her pajamas still: short athletic shorts and a loose T-shirt. Her hair was pulled up out of her face. She looked...peaceful, if still not awake. That wouldn't come until after her first cup of coffee, and judging from the sleepy look in her eye, that hadn't happened yet.

God, I sounded like some pining ex-boyfriend.

She jerked to a stop when she saw me. "Oh. Stella. Good morning."

Ever one for the social pleasantries.

"Good morning," I mumbled back.

Her eyes darted nervously to the bathroom door. Just in time for it to slam shut.

Ah, the fearless leader I was following into ghost battle. Brilliant.

She cleared her throat and her eyes slowly swung back around to me. "Rose said you were working on a project together."

"Ghost hunting."

She flinched at my words. Actually flinched. Like they'd physically hurt.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." She headed for the kitchen. "There's coffee, but that's it, I'm afraid. No tea."

"Rose isn't much of a tea drinker."

"More's the pity," Bronte said, helping herself to a mug from the drying rack by the sink.

My heart constricted when I recognized it as her favorite The Lord of the Rings mug. One with little doodles of iconic items from the story, including the Moria's moonlit gate, Sting the sword, and the One Ring, naturally. But it was her mug. Hers. So she'd brought it from the apartment.