Shiver / Private Sessions: Shiver / Private Sessions

“I know, right?”

“I’m really full.” Erin had ordered venison, and had finished every bite. “But I’m having dessert anyway. Can you imagine? “

“I’m thinking about ordering the roast squab all over again.”

Erin grinned, then did a sweep of the restaurant. “You can tell how great the food is. Check out how no one’s talking. With these geeks, that’s a supernatural event.”

Carrie leaned back in her chair. “You made a joke. About the supernatural.”

“I do have a sense of humor about it,” her friend said with a scowl. “I’m not mean like some people.”

“Who’s been mean? Let me at ‘em.”

“You’re a scream.”

Carrie’s eyebrows rose. “Is that another joke?”

Ignoring her, Erin got the waitresses’s attention with a nod. “I’m going to have coffee. Real coffee.”

“What time are you planning to go to bed?”

“The minute after I see my first ghost.”

“You’re gonna need a lot of coffee.”

Erin sighed. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’m telling you, there’ve been sightings here since the beginning of the last century. Especially in the Old Hotel.”

Carrie had read about the extra-added-bonus ghost-filled building in the brochure, and in several articles she found on Google. It had been built in the early 1900s by the newly transplanted Crider family. The ghost stories had begun after the small hotel had burned to the ground. Four families, most of them Criders, had been killed and were said to wander the lower floors searching for a way out. “Don’t tell me you’re going out there tonight. It’s really cold, and I’m positive it’s not heated and if I remember correctly, the building is unsafe and off-limits.”

Erin grinned. “Of course we get to go inside. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Who’s we?”

“You know, Mike, Dean, Liam. The people who put the con together.”

“And you’re on a first-name basis with them because …?”

“Because I’m not an antisocial loner. We’ve e-mailed. And chatted. And IM’d.”

“Erin, did you send them your picture?”

“No.”

“Did you send them to your Web site?”

She hesitated. “Yeah.”

Carrie sighed. “I thought so. Did you see pictures of them?”

“No.”

“Dear, sweet, oblivious Erin. The reason none of the men are talking in this restaurant isn’t because the food is fantastic. It’s because they’re all too busy trying to come up with witty, obscure opening lines with which to dazzle you.”

Erin looked around the room with disbelief.

Carrie noted with smug satisfaction that a good half of the men quickly diverted their attention to either their plates, the unremarkable ceiling or simply closed their eyes, presumably under the impression that if they couldn’t see, they became invisible.

“No one’s even looking in our direction.”

“God, you’re naive. New York is gonna eat you alive. Trust me. I bet there are at least ten ghost-related pickup lines thrown your way tonight.”

“You’re nuts. If anyone’s looking it’s probably at you.”

“Want to bet?”

Her friend’s cheeks became pink. “No. But even if you’re right, it won’t last. The ghosts hold far more interest than I ever could.”

“I repeat. Oblivious.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Carrie didn’t understand, even when she followed Erin’s gaze to the east side of the restaurant. “What?”

“Sam Crider? Staring at you like you’re his long-lost soul mate?”

She saw him, but he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was checking out an empty table before he straightened the place setting. A perfectly reasonable, if disappointing, thing for the proprietor to do. “You’re lying because I’m right. But it won’t work. Every single guy in this room wants you. Probably the married guys, too. And who knows, maybe someone will, you know, spark.”

“That would be nice.” Erin picked up the dessert menu. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, getting some hot ghost-hunter booooty. Get it? Booooty?”

Carrie shook her head. “So, so sad.”

“Come on. That was funny. Talk about someone needing to get laid. But then, you’ve already got Sam there locked and loaded.”

“I don’t know. It was, um, kind of weird in my room.”

“Oh?”

“Not sexy weird. Just, I don’t know if I’m reading him right. And he’s the owner. Owners don’t shack up with guests.”

Erin laughed. “Now who’s being naive? Why bother to own a hotel if you can’t sleep with guests? I’m serious, my poor celibate friend, your dry spell is about to be broken.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

“You don’t, but you should. I’m having the hazelnut torte.”

Carrie didn’t blink at the non sequitur. “I’m having the pumpkin soufflé. It’s only proper.”

“Speaking of, tomorrow night is the pumpkin-carving thingee. You’re going to win.”