Page 12 of Dumbstruck
Dexter shrugs as he drives. “There are always things that go wrong with a movie, but this one is way worse than any I’ve seen. People are starting to think we’ve upset some angry spirits.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Unless you count the traces of trauma that never go away, of course, which is a different thing entirely. “What else has gone wrong?”
Dexter lists off more things than I expected him to, from missing props to spoiled food, and the more he talks, the more my gut tells me this is more than just accidents. It’s not a ghost—that would be ridiculous—but someone is certainly angry.
In this town, it could be anyone. There are too many locals who think the movie is going to bring nothing but trouble when people realize Laketown exists.
Stopping outside a large trailer in the field the film crew has taken over next to the high school, Dexter hurries up to the door and knocks. “Jonah? Are you in here?” He stands tense as he waits for an answer.
Nothing.
“Jonah!” He tries the door, which opens with a little bit of sticking—I wonder if they ever found a wrench to fit—and pokes his head inside. “Jonah, you here?” He steps into the trailer, leaving me standing awkwardly in the dirt outside.
I was here not too long ago, helping Hank figure out a contract with Bonnie related to their staged relationship, and I feel even more out of place now than I did then. The few people who are walking around the tent- and trailer-filled space give me querying looks as they pass, with plenty of suspicion in their eyes.
Based on some of the things Dexter told me, I don’t blame them for being wary of locals.
“His phone is here,” Dexter says, coming back down the steps and making me feel less like a trespasser. “But he isn’t.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” And he clearly doesn’t like not knowing. His eyes dart around the field, full of worry, as he practically cradles Jonah’s phone. “Jonah, where are you?”
After a moment of tense silence, we decide to try heading back into town to see if he somehow passed us without us noticing. But we only make it halfway across before Dexter slams on the brakes and points to an unattended golf cart parked near a small box trailer.
“That’s the one Jonah uses,” he says, scrambling out of his seat. “Jonah? Jonah!”
It’s only when we approach the trailer that I hear a reply. “Dex?”
Dexter’s eyes go wide, and he rushes to the trailer. “Jonah?”
Jonah’s voice is muffled, but he’s most definitely inside the enclosed trailer. “Dexter, you beautiful man. You found me!”
“Jonah, you were supposed to be back in town over an hour ago!”
Jonah barks out a laugh. “Trust me. I am well aware.”
“What are you doing in the props trailer?”
“The door is stuck,” Jonah says. “And Richie is freaking out. Ow!”
Dexter frowns. “Jonah?”
“That was uncalled for, Rich. But okay, I’m the one freaking out. Get us out of here, Dex. I’m begging you.”
“He’s claustrophobic,” Dexter mutters to me as he reaches for the door and tugs to no avail. “He once got stuck in an airplane bathroom and hasn’t been the same since.”
That’s…adorable. I shouldn’t be thinking that—Jonah’s allowed to feel fear without judgment—but I like knowing Jonah James isn’t perfect. That there’s something human about him.
“Who are you talking to?” Jonah asks. “And I’d better not have heard you talking about the airplane bathroom.”
“He’s talking to me,” I say, putting my hand on Dexter’s shoulder so I can take his place at the door. I doubt I’ll do much better with getting the door open, but I figure I might as well try. I’m going to guess it’s locked.
“June?” The tone of Jonah’s voice shifts to something more desperate. “June, I swear I would have been on time if not for that door getting stuck.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Jonah James.”
“If you get me out of here, I’ll tell you my real name so you can stop calling me that.”
