Read Online An Uninvited Ghost by E.J. Copperman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: E.J. Copperman
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gentlemen weren’t raiding the cooler of beer in the game room, they never let the young “cast” out of their sight. Bernice, muttering something about “encroachment” in the den—a room I had not seen her frequent during her stay so far—was still there to gawk. The Joneses could not be reached for comment.
I had not yet been introduced to our reality cast, but was told they’d be “happy to talk with you after they’ve got a couple of scenes in the can.” Right now, until all the technical snarls could be straightened out, the two young women and the two young men were scattered to the four corners of the room, not interacting at all. With anybody. Once cameras were rolling, Trent had explained, there would be plenty of action.
One person’s definition of “reality” might not be the same as another’s. It’s a flexible decade.
I was huddling in the front hall, right near the door, trying to talk to Maxie in such a way that no one would see me having a conversation, to all appearances, with myself. “First of all, it’s my house, and if you need reminding, I’ll show you the deed again . Second, I thought you were the one who couldn’t wait for this carnival to get going. Something about ‘hot guys with no shirts.’ Well, there they are.”
“I thought they’d just be here hanging out,” she answered. “But they brought a whole army with them.”
“Who do you think runs the camera and the sound?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “How can they be spontaneous with all these people following them around?”
I have to admit, I chuckled condescendingly. “Spontaneous? Take a look. What they’re doing now? That’s their version of spontaneous .”
“They’re not doing anything .”
“Exactly.”
She sputtered, pouted and left. Which was just as well, since Linda Jane was approaching, and it would have been hard for me to cover my conversation with someone clearly not present.
“So this is show business,” she said. “It’s like the Army—hurry up and wait.”
“Were you in the Army?” I asked her.
Linda Jane nodded. “Briefly. I was a medic, actually. But I got an honorable discharge after eight months.”
“Why? If that’s not too personal.”
“Not too personal,” she said. She pulled up the left leg on her jeans, and showed me her prosthetic limb. “Grenada—remember that one? I stood in the wrong place at the wrong time. A bomb went off. So did my leg, just below the knee.”
I had no skill set for responding to that. “Wow,” I said.
“Yeah. It makes for a hell of a conversation piece.” Linda Jane lowered her trouser leg. She waited, but I couldn’t come up with an appropriate response. “See what I mean?”
“I’m so . . . it’s just . . . that’s awful,” I finally managed.
“After all these years, I’m used to it. But I am sorry I didn’t get to serve longer.”
“You’re a hero,” I said.
She laughed. “Yeah, big hero. I was going to the mess tent for a cup of coffee. Anyway, it was a long time ago.” She gestured toward all the commotion in the front room. “This is some show you’ve booked into the place.”
“I’m starting to wonder if what the production company is paying me is worth this,” I admitted. “I hope the guests don’t find it too upsetting.”
Linda Jane laughed again. “Upsetting! Take a look. Almost every single one of them is here watching. They couldn’t be having a better time.”
“Every single one except Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” I pointed out.
“I’m pretty sure they’re having a good time, too,” she answered.
Trent Avalon, having surveyed the situation from the top of the staircase, clapped his hands loudly to silence the assembled mob in the front room. “Okay, people!” he shouted. “Let’s make some reality!”
There were actual cheers from the guests. Warren and Jim, now standing in the doorway to the den with beers in their hands (having the best of both worlds), were especially
I had not yet been introduced to our reality cast, but was told they’d be “happy to talk with you after they’ve got a couple of scenes in the can.” Right now, until all the technical snarls could be straightened out, the two young women and the two young men were scattered to the four corners of the room, not interacting at all. With anybody. Once cameras were rolling, Trent had explained, there would be plenty of action.
One person’s definition of “reality” might not be the same as another’s. It’s a flexible decade.
I was huddling in the front hall, right near the door, trying to talk to Maxie in such a way that no one would see me having a conversation, to all appearances, with myself. “First of all, it’s my house, and if you need reminding, I’ll show you the deed again . Second, I thought you were the one who couldn’t wait for this carnival to get going. Something about ‘hot guys with no shirts.’ Well, there they are.”
“I thought they’d just be here hanging out,” she answered. “But they brought a whole army with them.”
“Who do you think runs the camera and the sound?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “How can they be spontaneous with all these people following them around?”
I have to admit, I chuckled condescendingly. “Spontaneous? Take a look. What they’re doing now? That’s their version of spontaneous .”
“They’re not doing anything .”
“Exactly.”
She sputtered, pouted and left. Which was just as well, since Linda Jane was approaching, and it would have been hard for me to cover my conversation with someone clearly not present.
“So this is show business,” she said. “It’s like the Army—hurry up and wait.”
“Were you in the Army?” I asked her.
Linda Jane nodded. “Briefly. I was a medic, actually. But I got an honorable discharge after eight months.”
“Why? If that’s not too personal.”
“Not too personal,” she said. She pulled up the left leg on her jeans, and showed me her prosthetic limb. “Grenada—remember that one? I stood in the wrong place at the wrong time. A bomb went off. So did my leg, just below the knee.”
I had no skill set for responding to that. “Wow,” I said.
“Yeah. It makes for a hell of a conversation piece.” Linda Jane lowered her trouser leg. She waited, but I couldn’t come up with an appropriate response. “See what I mean?”
“I’m so . . . it’s just . . . that’s awful,” I finally managed.
“After all these years, I’m used to it. But I am sorry I didn’t get to serve longer.”
“You’re a hero,” I said.
She laughed. “Yeah, big hero. I was going to the mess tent for a cup of coffee. Anyway, it was a long time ago.” She gestured toward all the commotion in the front room. “This is some show you’ve booked into the place.”
“I’m starting to wonder if what the production company is paying me is worth this,” I admitted. “I hope the guests don’t find it too upsetting.”
Linda Jane laughed again. “Upsetting! Take a look. Almost every single one of them is here watching. They couldn’t be having a better time.”
“Every single one except Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” I pointed out.
“I’m pretty sure they’re having a good time, too,” she answered.
Trent Avalon, having surveyed the situation from the top of the staircase, clapped his hands loudly to silence the assembled mob in the front room. “Okay, people!” he shouted. “Let’s make some reality!”
There were actual cheers from the guests. Warren and Jim, now standing in the doorway to the den with beers in their hands (having the best of both worlds), were especially
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