Page 52 of Ghost Girl

The phone buzzed with an incoming text, and I managed to catch what was written before Mallory picked it up to read it herself.

Do better. That boy is ruining our reputations. Fix it. Now.

I had never seen confirmation of their plots before, and I still wasn’t sure if Chance was involved in Blake’s murder sprees, but the larger part of me that had cherished our friendship for so long wanted to get some petty payback on his behalf. And so, when she put the phone down again and read her response, a plan quickly formed in my head. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

I’ve got another woman lined up with a respectable background. I’ll send Florence home and ask Jerica to join us instead.

Mallory’s eyes were closed beneath the shade of her sunhat, and I took the opportunity to type out a message myself. It took some concentration, but I was able to exit out of the chat thread with Calvin and bring up the rather empty one with Chance. All the messages were mostly from Mallory, interspersed with sparse, one-word replies from Chance. I realised he would be more likely to ignore any messages from his overbearing mother, so I went back to the text thread with Calvin and started the hard, arduous process of typing out a text.

It was slow-going, and I was exhausted by the end of it, completely depleted of my energy reserves to the point where I was legitimately worried for the first time in forever that I was about to pass out, but I managed to type out the message and hit send before that could happen.

Florence might not be right for Chance, but she could be good between us.

Immediately, the little white ‘delivered’beneath the message changed to ‘read’. Those three little bouncing dots appeared as Calvin began to type, then they disappeared just as quickly. They popped back up again a few times before they went away for good. No message was sent.

I hoped, at the very least, that this would drive a wedge between Mallory and Calvin. It would serve them right for meddling because they couldn’t accept Chance as he was. Their love was conditional, and I had always hated them for that.

Calvin chose that moment to come storming out of the blue section of the tent, which I deduced must have been the mancave section. His eyes flashed with something I could discern, but very much didn’t want to, and I realised I had one thing left to do on Mallory’s phone to make it even sweeter.

‘Since when were you interested in a threesome with a woman, Mal?’ he hissed as he approached, but his words drew me up short. With a woman? Had they had a threesome with a man? And then spewed homophobic bullshit?

One:gross!

Two: what a hypocritical bitch!

I deleted the message as quickly as I could, my entire body slumping with the energy I needed to expel to get it done, but the aftermath made itsoworth it. Mallory’s shades were suddenly discarded so her husband could see the full force of her glare.

‘What the fuck are you talking about, Cal?’

‘Florence? Really?’

‘The pickings are slim, Cal. We don’t have many options left.’

‘We do not invitewomeninto our bed, Mallory.’

‘Of course we don’t,’ Mallory replied, confused, which only made Calvin confused.

‘Are you saying… Is that why Chance doesn’t want her? Because she’s aman?’

Mallory reared back in shock. ‘A man? What on earth are you on about, Calvin?’

Now that I had confirmation for that piece of information I most certainly did not need or want, I chose to leave the quarrelling couple in favour of finding Blake’s tent. It wasn’t difficult to find. It was the same one we had used together when we were married. Now, it seemed, he was sharing it with a different woman. I different wife.

I wondered if she was just as ignorant and naïve as I had been, or if she was onto him. Perhaps he had found himself a serial killer wife, to create a little serial killer family? But no, I doubted that. Blake’s whole public persona was based around surrounding himself with genuinely kind people. It was why he’d married me, after all. I was the perfect victim to fall for his lies. My parents had died when I was still young, so I had sought out love and acceptance in others. He had given it to me in spades, reeling me in without any real effort at all.

When I approached, the sun shone through the tent to reveal the shadows of the objects inside, but there was only one body. A woman’s. Presumably, the new wife. Blake was nowhere to be found.

I debated leaving, or at least keeping my distance until he returned so I could follow him from there, but something about the defeated slump to the woman’s shoulders as she moved about inside had me floating through thick polyester walls of the tent.

The first thing I noticed was that she was stunningly beautiful. Even with mussed hair and no makeup, eyes still drooping with fatigue, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Bright red hair that I could see was real rather than dyed was styled into a short bob that perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. Freckles dotted over her cheeks and nose, giving her an innocent vibe that went well with the sleepy look she wascurrently rocking. I’d bet she was a great woman to wake up next to every morning.

And her body… Holy shit was she hot. Perfectly perky tits, a waist that dipped in deliciously before flaring out at her hips, and her ass was round and toned, the perfect little handful. She had the type of hourglass figure people like Florence paid good money for, and even I was a little jealous.

But that jealousy shrivelled up and died when I saw the sadness in her eyes. She glanced back at the double camping cot and heaved a world-weary sigh. I could see why. One pillow held a prominent dip in the middle, clearly used, while the other was perfectly plumped and very clearlyunused. So Blake hadn’t come home last night, huh?

Fuck… Was he still dealing with Bianca’s body, or was he already out hunting for new prey?

Was she… feeling neglected? Was she catching on?

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