Read Online Rock N Soul by Lauren Sattersby - Free Book Online Page A

a few more “you knows” in there? I kicked myself thoroughly.
    “Well, thanks,” he said, a little more sincerely this time. “But still. I’m pissed about it.”
    “Yeah,” I said, then cleared my throat. “I guess we should go inside.”
    His forehead wrinkled again, and he looked around the hallway like he hadn’t even noticed we were in the building. “Oh. This is it.”
    “Yeah,” I said, then I gave him a stern look. “And before we go in, I don’t want to hear any lip about how cluttered it is and how you’ve been in bathtubs bigger than the whole apartment. I live by myself and rent is a bitch in this city and this is all I can afford.” I deepened my frown.
    “Okay, okay.” He rolled his eyes. “May we enter?”
    I sighed and opened the door. Chris breezed through the doorway in front of me and then burst out laughing.
    It was at that point I remembered I had a giant poster of him hanging over my couch.

Well, not him specifically. It was a concert poster of Incite the Masses, and it was really more focused on Eric than Chris, but still.
    Chris was laughing so hard he started to wheeze, although I’m not sure why a ghost needs to breathe at all so the wheezing was probably just to be obnoxious. I crossed my arms. “Laugh it up, Casper. Go ahead and be a dick.”
    “You have . . .” He tried to compose himself but clearly failed. “You have a poster of me on your wall.”
    “Yes. Thank you for the observation. Good to know you’re not blind as well as dead.” I tightened my crossed arms and scowled. “Besides, it’s not my poster. It was Carmen’s. I just never took it down after she left.”
    “Yeah, I’m sure of that,” he said, finally stopping with the laughing. “Did ‘Carmen’ also leave behind her copy of that magazine where I was shirtless? And if so, do the pages still open right or are they all stuck together?”
    “You’re a douche,” I grumbled. “I told you not to rag on me.”
    “No, you told me not to mention how small the apartment was, and I didn’t.” He looked around again. “Dude, though, is that your bed?”
    “Shut up,” I snapped.
    “It’s in the living room ,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
    “It’s called a studio apartment . Meaning there isn’t a bedroom. And I’m lucky I can afford it.”
    “Come on, man.” Chris turned and raised his eyebrow at me. “Surely you can get something better than this .”
    “I can’t, you asshole.” I hoped he couldn’t see how red my cheeks were getting. “It’s hard to pay for this as it is. So maybe you should have thought about that before you went around stiffing people like me on the tips. I can’t even keep the heat on in the winter because it’s too fucking expensive. I have to save the heat for nights when I’d freeze to death without it, and every other night I just pile on like six blankets and hope for the best. So you can take your rich dick privilege and shove it, you got me?”
    He huffed and then clamped his mouth shut, and I couldn’t bring myself to give even a single shit about it. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, “Couldn’t you just get a roommate?”
    “Yeah, I had one,” I muttered. “And then she left because I killed you.”
    He blinked a few times, rapidly. “Because you killed me,” he repeated in a monotone.
    “Yeah.” I pulled one glove off my hand, a little more viciously than necessary, then yanked off the other glove too. “It’s not that uncommon a theory among the people who think there was foul play.”
    “There are people who think I was murdered?” he asked, raising his eyebrows almost all the way to the ceiling.
    “You’re a famous rock star who died suddenly and young,” I said. “I mean, come on. Cobain blew his brains out after writing an actual suicide note and people still think he was murdered. Of course there are crazies who think you were too.”
    “But why you ? We didn’t even know each other. You had no motive.” He