Read Online The Ghost and The Hacker (Dark Fire Book 3) by Ivy M. Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Ivy M. Jones
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me along despite the fact that I'm not walking.
"Uh, well... I guess we might have a slightly pissed-off roommate then, but at least the ghost won't eat our food or call in phony pizza orders or screw on the couch in the middle of the day for you to walk in on."
"Oh geez, please don't bring that up." Lucy sounds like she's whimpering.
I'm back at our current hellhole, so I beg her to reconsider our good luck, despite the possibility of someone else's bad luck. "We're really not going to get a better deal than this," I plead.
"I can take a look after work and then I'll bring dinner home."
"Eesh. Home ," I say, looking up at the crumbling brick.
Less than thirty seconds after she's gone through the door, Lucy asks to sign the lease. Ghost or no ghost, she's not about to pass up the stupid-amazing deal I've stumbled upon.
Later that evening, I get a call from Ms. Haas. "Miss Jennings?"
"Yes? Oh, god. Is there a problem? We can still move in tomorrow afternoon, right? We've already given notice..."
"Oh, no problem, Miss Jennings. I'm calling because you mentioned you didn't have much furniture when we did the walkthrough. I have another tenant who left over the weekend, but he had to leave the country and left his furniture behind. Would you like it?"
I swallow, hard. This is too weird.
"It's not, like, gross?" Seriously, who am I to ask that? We have a loveseat and TV in our living room, two beds, and two ratty dressers. We don't even have table.
"No. From what I gather, it's pretty new."
"Oh. I probably can't afford what he'll ask for an apartment full of furniture that's brand new." My shoulders slump.
"He left it. He's gone. Either you take it, or it's getting sent to the dump and he'll be charged."
"Holy shit, yes!" I yell into the phone. "Sorry," I squeak.
Ms. Haas chuckles. "No problem. I'll just have everything in his apartment cleaned tomorrow morning and you can move into that unit."
I hang up a moment later, after effusive thanks, barely restraining myself from offering my firstborn.
Then I frown. This is getting really fucking weird.
I take a cab home from work the next day, lugging three empty copy paper boxes with me. Lucy does the same, but she's filled hers with papers from the recycling bin at work so we can wrap our dishes. We pack up everything in less time than it takes me to ride the subway to work, which feels pathetic.
I would be sad, but I'm too excited to sleep.
"You wanna go right now and see what furniture we have in our new place?" Ms. Haas had the keys delivered while we I was at work and I dangle them in front of Lucy. She squeals and we grab a couple of duffels of clothes to take with us.
When we stand in the open doorway of our new apartment, our jaws hit the floor.
"Are we in the right apartment?" Lucy asks.
I hold up my key. The one I just used to unlock the door to our apartment. The one with the A68 on it, which is the apartment number Ms. Haas gave me.
When I unlocked the door, I didn't have to jiggle the knob. There was also only one deadbolt and it opened with the same key.
We stare at the fully furnished apartment. The bookcase along the wall has a few miscellaneous coffee table books on it. The matching coffee table and end tables are dark solid wood but not too masculine. The couch is clearly real leather and looks like it's never been sat on.
On a hunch, I open a cabinet in the kitchen and find it fully stocked with wine glasses, the next one with glassware. The next one is dishes. Lucy comes up beside me and opens one of the pull-out drawers at her knees. It's full of pots and pans.
"There has to be some kind of mistake," she whispers.
"She said he had to leave the country. I guess he really had to leave everything," I say, not sure who I am trying to convince more, Lucy or myself.
"He didn't leave his clothes, did he? Because that would add to my theory that he was
"Uh, well... I guess we might have a slightly pissed-off roommate then, but at least the ghost won't eat our food or call in phony pizza orders or screw on the couch in the middle of the day for you to walk in on."
"Oh geez, please don't bring that up." Lucy sounds like she's whimpering.
I'm back at our current hellhole, so I beg her to reconsider our good luck, despite the possibility of someone else's bad luck. "We're really not going to get a better deal than this," I plead.
"I can take a look after work and then I'll bring dinner home."
"Eesh. Home ," I say, looking up at the crumbling brick.
Less than thirty seconds after she's gone through the door, Lucy asks to sign the lease. Ghost or no ghost, she's not about to pass up the stupid-amazing deal I've stumbled upon.
Later that evening, I get a call from Ms. Haas. "Miss Jennings?"
"Yes? Oh, god. Is there a problem? We can still move in tomorrow afternoon, right? We've already given notice..."
"Oh, no problem, Miss Jennings. I'm calling because you mentioned you didn't have much furniture when we did the walkthrough. I have another tenant who left over the weekend, but he had to leave the country and left his furniture behind. Would you like it?"
I swallow, hard. This is too weird.
"It's not, like, gross?" Seriously, who am I to ask that? We have a loveseat and TV in our living room, two beds, and two ratty dressers. We don't even have table.
"No. From what I gather, it's pretty new."
"Oh. I probably can't afford what he'll ask for an apartment full of furniture that's brand new." My shoulders slump.
"He left it. He's gone. Either you take it, or it's getting sent to the dump and he'll be charged."
"Holy shit, yes!" I yell into the phone. "Sorry," I squeak.
Ms. Haas chuckles. "No problem. I'll just have everything in his apartment cleaned tomorrow morning and you can move into that unit."
I hang up a moment later, after effusive thanks, barely restraining myself from offering my firstborn.
Then I frown. This is getting really fucking weird.
I take a cab home from work the next day, lugging three empty copy paper boxes with me. Lucy does the same, but she's filled hers with papers from the recycling bin at work so we can wrap our dishes. We pack up everything in less time than it takes me to ride the subway to work, which feels pathetic.
I would be sad, but I'm too excited to sleep.
"You wanna go right now and see what furniture we have in our new place?" Ms. Haas had the keys delivered while we I was at work and I dangle them in front of Lucy. She squeals and we grab a couple of duffels of clothes to take with us.
When we stand in the open doorway of our new apartment, our jaws hit the floor.
"Are we in the right apartment?" Lucy asks.
I hold up my key. The one I just used to unlock the door to our apartment. The one with the A68 on it, which is the apartment number Ms. Haas gave me.
When I unlocked the door, I didn't have to jiggle the knob. There was also only one deadbolt and it opened with the same key.
We stare at the fully furnished apartment. The bookcase along the wall has a few miscellaneous coffee table books on it. The matching coffee table and end tables are dark solid wood but not too masculine. The couch is clearly real leather and looks like it's never been sat on.
On a hunch, I open a cabinet in the kitchen and find it fully stocked with wine glasses, the next one with glassware. The next one is dishes. Lucy comes up beside me and opens one of the pull-out drawers at her knees. It's full of pots and pans.
"There has to be some kind of mistake," she whispers.
"She said he had to leave the country. I guess he really had to leave everything," I say, not sure who I am trying to convince more, Lucy or myself.
"He didn't leave his clothes, did he? Because that would add to my theory that he was
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