Ghost Boyfriend Anthology.

#4.5 - Busted!

—

I awoke with the same full hit impact, head pounding and split into two with a bitter, acidic taste in my mouth. It felt as though I was ripped from my body, thrown on the floor and stepped upon.

Not a good feeling.

I'm not okay and is my butt so sore?

I try to sit up with effort and just then...snap! A weight on my legs. I darted my eyes beneath the sheets quickly and oh god. I'm naked. Stark. For some bloody reason also, a figure tosses before a large, bulky smooth arm falls on my bosom — trapping me.

I froze, wide-eyed peeking at a dreamless face, his stubble prickly but tolerable.

A quick plummet to the floor and my shock turns to anger.

How dare him!

What the hell was going on? What went on last night and why am I so sore? It can't be. This isn't happening, or is it some sort of dream? Am I still dreaming? I dealt my cheeks some good slaps while I shook my burning head vigorously. I remember it, like a movie, my shame the other night. I recall Joe Graham, the limousine ride and my boring routine of dressing up for bed. That's it, Nothing more, nothing less but alas! My gaze sweeps over the room which lay in ruin, clothes and accessories strewn in line out the partly open door, Sheets torn the weaved around the window and is that... My blood runs cold as I picked up a Durex pack on the floor. No, I mentally resolve. It can't be what I think it is. I extend my hand toward it, drawing closer to it, a lump forming in my throat and I swallow it. I tried not to cry and when tears eventually come streaming down my cheeks I don't bother brushing them off.

“Fran?” Harry's concerned but sleepy voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up at his through my wet lashes and quiver.

“Are you alright?” he steps out of bed in nothing but boxer shorts and holds me up, brushing my tears away with his thumb. “Why are you crying? I told you I was sorry. We both never meant for this to happen.”

“That's right!” I yell, nudging his hands off me. “This is abominable and we shouldn't have done it. You took advantage of me Harry. What am I even saying! How did you get in here?”

“I don't understand. We both went clubbing last night.” Puzzled, he took hold of my arm. “You remember the truth or dare game we played and how it escalated after that. I thought you were happy.”

“Truth or dare? Clubbing? I was at the Real Gamer's gig yesterday and Joe Graham insulted me. I shouldn't be telling you this. Get out!” I command, moving into the bathroom and shutting the door.

“Baby — ”

“Leave. Don't ever come back here.”

“Forgive me please. I apologize over and over again but you still won't budge. It was just an accidental kiss.”

“Quit lying to me, it was more than that and I still feel hurt. Get on your way now, it's morning.”

I let out a sharp breath when I hear the door slam and that's when the numbness disappeared.

Rushing out onto the bed in all nakedness, I buried my face into the pillow — letting it out. The emotions, memories began swirling through my mind. He loves me, so damn much to still seek my forgiveness but I don't know why I'm insecure. He's handsome with lots of money but his sexuality puts me on an edge. Bisexual people had the knack of never sticking to one person.

He's attracted to women too.

—

With half the morning gone, I clad my poor self in an over-sized shirt and peach boxer briefs before curling up on the sofa, coffee in hand. My VISA card sat on the table, exactly as I'd left it the previous day. When I reach out for it, pulling it closer, I made a wish.

That it'd all be false and while I was out someone from the billing agency broke in and smoothly swapped the cards. It's goes with a little faith to set things right, little things my mom taught me when younger.

My mom... I frown. Now, where did that thought come from?

I take out the bill from the envelope it came with, my eyes still closed. The chances are slim and very much absurd but I'm ready to go with just about anything.

Lid half-raised, my attention catches an item first, connecting with my brain as it tries to register. Bex. Bex accessories? What was I doing in such a buggy place? The building is old fashioned and the items there are all zero quality that I can't even buy a coat without my friends knowing just where I'd laundered it from.

They all wear Bex actually, I can't bring myself low to such standards.

Then it hits me... slowly like a meteorite... Stacy. That puny little girl I spent twelve quid on. Such a trivial amount that shouldn't have made it on the list. I recall moving in to Bex to look for a substitute la par chain which I wanted to wear to Klutz's party; which isn't very bright but still... I planned on hanging it around my neck with it's pendant tucked into my t-shirt. I plunge around for seconds to realize they're out of stock right before a flashy man and kid walks in and my gaydar radar picks on him. Hot, smashing, every wet dream's fantasy..yeah that's a little overboard. I had to spend minutes behind cheap cloth stacks trying to conceal a b***r.

Not nice.

So I saunter off and pretend to shop while being loud in order to initiate a conversation. He rebuffed me, never even noticing I existed which made me seem an utter fool.

Well, tough luck struck when he realized he'd forgotten his VISA card at home.

Dumb hottie.

So that's a check. I open both eyes wider now and my chest constricts. The paper is stark black, filled with familiar names and extreme payment figures that I just had to stop staring at them. Please. I was having a headache.

Without a glance at the bottom figures, I stuff the bill back into the envelope shuddering deeper onto the sette.

I hold still for a moment, all the memories of my spendings rushes through my mind. Now I'm stuck. Really stuck, and I needed to survive the month which can be hardly possible considering my career is over. Oh, I hadn't collected my payment for last night's stand-up, plus the bonus tip. Good. I know it'd all come in handy someday. I plaster a smile on my face as I flicked on the telly. It'd be alright Fran, it'd be...

My face pales at the screen. No, it can't be. I must be seeing things! Or out of my mind.

I quickly pull out the bill once more to compare with the one on the screen. Something hot blocking my throat as tears began pooling. This is it, all a dead end now.

I'm done for.

Staring into space for a few minutes, I rock myself back and forth, Joe Graham on-screen — destroying my name. He thrusts the bill forward so it fills the screen and judging from the extremely darkened figures and dull page, I know it'd been photocopied.

Great. He's a VISA stalker. He's such a creep and a cruel one at that.

Hot tears run down my cheeks as I broke down sobbing. This is so bad.

The door swings open and I look up — face all sweat and snot. Klutz gasps, rushing toward me. He pulls me up. “Stop it now Fran,” he hugs me. I lean on him, my legs giving up on me. Why does everything I do come to a dead end? I must be cursed. I think. Oh my god, by a wicked witch in Hogswarth!

“You'll pass through this,” Klutz consoles, a copy of the Times which he came in with falling to the floor. I broke off from him, narrowing my eyes at the door. “Is anyone outside?”

I can't expect an empty porch after all. Newsflash; America's columnist idol goes bankrupt. Reality TV show host Joe Graham exposes his ass.

Reporters never miss the juicy stuff.

“Not yet. Perhaps you shouldn't have agreed to do the gig last night. Now you've gone viral and people are threatening to sue you. Hypocritical advice. It's all in the tabloids.”

Me? What did I do wrong? Simply what anyone in my shoes could've done. When Ivan my comedy agent rang me up with this piece of news, it'd been like forever. One week out of PR and things were finally looking up. The offer seemed seductive and a leeway for me to have fun and be famous all at once.

I blew my nose with the hem of my t-shirt. “Joe was a snake. He had me on full before he struck.”

“He's a d**k,” Klutz flicks the telly off. “Don't you think this is all too much? That bill is confidential. He has no business showing it off to the public like that.”

“Joe works for VISA company,” I say lightly. “Maybe he's using my bill's duplicate.”

“Which isn't very bright, we need a lawyer for this. I call it privacy intrusion.” he purse his lips and makes a rainbow motion with his hands.

I guffawed at this, glancing tiredly at the door. It's a miracle no one's been here yet.”

Which was for now. Once I'm past the threshold it's happy death for me. I'll be mugged. “I suppose you're right,” I attempt to sit up. I think I went a little overboard with my spendings.

Klutz snorts, sizing me with his coffee brown eyes. “Nonsense. It's no one's business if you decide to spoil yourself with your own damn money.”

“But all these people...all the stuff I wrote.. I'd never believe this day would come,” horrified, I steer my gaze out the door. Guilt works it's way up my spine. I was a star, the people looked up to my columns and supported me but I failed them. I let luxuries get in the way of thinking and honesty. I proved myself a loser who've lost face in public. Leaning forward to pick up the landline receiver, my chest heaves in panic. “Fran Hathaway speaking,”

I relax when I hear Ivan's voice at the other end, probably stroking his pepper-and-salt mustache as he rings out halfheartedly. “Franny boy! How's it going?”

This has got to be his most deceptive tone yet.

I frown, then mumble. “Fine, fine I understand if you don't want to be my agent anymore.” Klutz walks around the sofa to me, giving my shoulder a pat. “There, there.”

George went on talking. “How about we set up an appointment by ten, you know. To sort things out.”

“I don't think that's gonna be possible.” I say, managing my calmest tones. “I mean, you'll give up on me too so just get on with it while on the line.”

Okay the last part must have been harsh.

“Fran I'm not sacking you. I mean why — ”

“Really?” I gush out in delight, Klutz raising a brow at me. “Oh my gosh that's fantastic!”

Who knew the feeling of not-being-sacked could be this divine.

Promotion. It must be. I think. Maybe I've been raised a steep higher to own a sitcom. Gawd.  What if I make it? What if I ace this?

A bloody pay increase, more fans and devotees... I'll forget I ever cried.

George chuckles from the other end. “Three o'clock. Expecting you.”

A bright smile works it's way to my face. “Do you hear Klutz? I'm getting promoted!” we both squeal like banshees. One of those gay moments, can't miss it.

“This totes call for a celebration. A treat. How about we go shopping for thirty minutes?”

I disagreed, sloshing back onto the sofa. “Oh please, I never want to see another store.”