Authors: Stephanie Brother

Haunted (2 page)

Chapter 1

KIM

I really can't believe that after all these years I'm finally going to see my stepbrother again.

Brian is a really lucky bastard; that's for sure. He’s the head of his own production company; internationally famous; producer of one of the highest rated faux-documentary shows in the world.

Brian Cox is also enormously handsome, rich and a prick.

Oh, that’s not just MY opinion.

He’s legendary about how much of a perfectionist he is. More than one actor or crew have left in tears, including some pretty burly men.

Oh, Brian is a real hard ass, all right.

He’s got the way with the ladies, as well.

That bastard.

That smug, arrogant, cocky, magnificent bastard.

I’d love a chance to take him down a peg.

And, maybe to go down on his peg, but that’s just naughty talk.

After all, he’s my fucking stepbrother. Emphasis on stepbrother, not fucking…unfortunately.

God! Just listen to me!

You think I was some lovesick schoolgirl, mooning after the Captain of the football team, for Chrissakes!

Once, a long time ago, I might have had a chance – but not anymore.

Not after what happened …

I remember that fateful last day when he fought his father about the way I was being treated.

He got a black eye for me from the old bastard.

Brian fought him because he called me a slut. The old shit pushed me into a door and knocked the wind out of me.

Brian, barely eighteen at the time, slugged that creep so hard the breath whooshed out of him.

But, the old son of a bitch was used to getting into fights.

He sucker-punched Brian, nearly knocking him out, and then threw him through the front door. Thankfully, it was open. Brian landed in the yard, then slowly shook his head.

Brian got up, took a look at all of us staring at him. He frowned at me, looking angry, but judging the odds against beating the old man. He nodded at me. Then he turned and walked away.

I haven’t seen him in twelve long years.

Mom called the police, the for the first time. They arrested that bastard and took him away.

Mom and I moved out shortly after. I have no idea or interest in what happened to my step-dad.

I hope he’s rotting in a jail cell somewhere.

Or rotting in Hell.

*****

Over the years, one tabloid or another would give a glimpse of Brian.

Some scurrilous piece about whom he just dumped, or what lovely woman had the pleasure of hanging on his muscled arm at the Awards shows.

I’ve followed most of the women whom Brian has had.

(And, who hasn’t? They are constantly plastered all over the gossip rags and trades!)

He’s bedded some of the most famous and beautiful women in the world - and dumped them.

Later, they’ll always confide, in the talk-show hosts or gossip rags, that it was they who had caused the breakup. Brian was just too good for them, or they had been too hard to handle, or whatever the contrived reason would be.

But I know the truth.

Brian is an alpha. He just takes what he wants, and gives you as much as you can handle.

Nothing more, nothing less.

He’s, at least, honest about it. Not one of his lovers ever has a bad word about him, but you can see the hurt in their eyes.

Stupid bitches.

They thought THEY were the one, this time.

The one who would ‘fix’ him and make him theirs forever.

Only, Brian doesn’t need fixing.

He’s perfect.

To hear him tell it, he’s God’s gift to women, with a bullet.

And, sad to say, the fucker is apparently right about that, too!

He’s every woman’s fantasy man.

Handsome.

Talented.

Rich.

And, of course, awesome in bed.

He really is.

Perfect.

I know.

*****

We’ve got a meeting in ten minutes, and here I am, still worrying I’ll look fat, or ugly, or that there’s spinach in my teeth.

You’d think I was on a date with Adonis, or, at least, George Clooney, the way I am acting.

And, how did I get so wet so fast?

I’d better jump in the ladies and take care of that, fast!

This is just exactly what I didn’t want to happen today.

Fuck.

Chapter 2

BRIAN

I tell Candice, my administrative assistant, that she had better not have fucked up the appointment this time.

I was a bit anxious, because I didn’t see Kim anywhere as we came into the building.

OK, it IS a big building. It’s about a thousand fucking stories tall and designed to intimidate and inspire awe.

I’ve got to admit it, though. It really does grab the eye.

Argo’s building is pretty fucking impressive.

Argonaut Media and Entertainment is my client and sponsor.

They’ve already made a gazillion dollars with my various weekly reality television series.

The one that’s done the best is my latest.

It’s called, “Haunted.”

The premise is that, each week, we go out and explore some paranormal or mysterious occurrence, trying to find out the “truth.”

Which is totally whatever the sponsor wants to pay me to “uncover”.

I don’t care. It’s just a bunch of fun for me.

I get to travel, fuck the cute local women, and eat and drink fine food on an expense account.

It’s my dream job.

And, I worked hard to get here and make it. No one’s going to take it away from me.

Not without a fight…

This time, we get to explore some ancient Native American digs, out West.

There’s a State Park built there, and they are doing some kind of construction project. But, some ‘strange noises’ or some such nonsense has currently shut down operations. The crew is staying away from fear of angering the ancient spirits.

A bunch of superstitious bullshit, if you ask me. But, I’m not on call for my opinion of the supernatural.

When you are trying to get advertisers for the highest rated show on cable television, you have to call the best.

So, of course, they called me to go in and take a peek.

$500,000 is a nice week’s pay, plus expenses and travel.

That’s enough for me to take my ‘Executive Assistant’, Candice, off to Cabo and really take advantage of the ‘ass’ part of her title.

Candice’s been with me for two whole seasons, and that’s a record.

But, she’s competent, smart, and, most importantly, great in bed.

She can suck a golf ball through a straw. My dick gets hard just thinking about her mouth.

Mr. Peet (my penis) really has a thing for her. He loves just to hang out in her hot, moist throat while she does her best to do an imitation of a Hoover vacuum cleaner.

Plus, Candice doesn’t give me any shit about our relationship.

Once I made it clear that business was business and pleasure was also business, we got along just fine.

At least up until now…

Recently, Candie has been making some noises about things best kept between a boyfriend and a girlfriend, or maybe a couple of people who are engaged.

Not my cup of tea. Not my scene, baby.

Not my thing…

So, it’s great timing that this spook story had come along when it did.

Time for a bit of space between us.

Still, I will probably make it up to her when the gig is over.

She’ll get a nice vacation out of it, and I’ll get to lay back and enjoy the wonderful view between her legs while she gets up close and personal with Mr. Peet.

*****

This isn’t my usual modus operandi, as far as the show goes.

I like having some control, and I try to present at least a semblance of an argument against the hokum, merely for ratings sake. Most of the time, the special effects crew will add a bit of CGI to the right spots to put just enough doubt in the viewers’ minds to make for interesting talk the next day at work.

This time, though, it’s more of a cover for something big. I can feel it. My instincts are telling me there’s more to this gig than meets the eye.

The fact that the Board members at Argo are interested in paying a lot of money to make this ‘mockumentary’ about the Indian Wells sacred burial ground is the tip off.

No one really cares about spooks and haints when government money is on the line. I don’t really know what they found, or why they want the show to go the way they are pushing it, but oh well. That’s show business.

It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.

And, with Loundstrad Timber Holdings as the other major player in this game, I wager that there’s already a foregone conclusion to be reached.

Not a real problem. The money’s great, and the subject matter is guaranteed to draw the largest share of the week from the competition.

I guess I am just a mercenary, when I think about it.

Fuck the truth, just show me where and what you want to film, and make sure that the check clears.

And, “Haunted” has it down to an art, now.

We’ve made the master template.

All we do is flesh out the background a tad.

Keep it dumb.

Sell it to the masses.

Baffle them with some pseudo-scientific bullshit.

Get an ‘educated’ skeptical opinion, and some local color.

Add a bit of post-production CGI SFX to the mix.

Blend and shove the crap down the viewer’s throats.

They eat it up like sugar-coated candy.

Or like a crack whore sucking a john’s cum for a ten-spot.

Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!

“Please, sir!? May I have some more?”

Absolutely.

Suckers.

*****

Every show, we have some smarty-pants come in and challenge our theories and evidence. It adds a spoonful of verisimilitude to what is otherwise visual pabulum.

The scientists we quote are paid to spout bullshit; they are under non-disclosures so tight that if they squeal, their grandchildren’s assholes will pucker.

Most of the time, they still end up with egg on their face. They are always astonished how we cut and edit their ‘serious’ explanations to put the onus on them for proof. You can always watch their jaws drop, and the inevitable “I didn’t say that! I do not mean that!” when they see the premiere of the show. It’s hilarious!

But the really funny part is all the hate mail they end up getting from pissed-off ‘believers’. Just a bunch of trailer park losers who crave mystery and some meaning to their dull, mundane and ordinary lives.

And that’s my specialty – I give hope to the hopeless, and the worker bees something to talk about around the office water cooler on Tuesday.

Did you know our show actually rated better than every football game except the Super Bowl last year?

I was surprised myself.

But, also pleased as hell.

I like to win.

And, when I get in front of or behind the camera, I do just that.

I whip these geeks to within an inch of their IQ.

I love it.

It reminds me of that bumper sticker:

“My quarterback beat the hell out of your honor student.”

Yes, sir.

I certainly enjoy me a good geek ass-whooping.