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Scene #14
Exiting the restaurant, Mason held the door open for Ginger, then
fell into step beside her. Two blocks passed before either of them
spoke. "Thanks for lunch," Ginger said, breaking the
uncomfortable silence that had plagued them ever since they'd left
the hospital earlier. "Yeah, sure. No problem." Mason kicked
at a tumbleweed that had settled on the sidewalk. "Too bad you
didn't eat it," he added under his breath. Ginger threw him a
look of annoyance. "I ate." "No, you didn't. You picked at your
lunch, at best. I don't think your fork even made it to your mouth
once." She swallowed and shook her head weakly. "I'm sorry, I
tried, really... I just didn't have much of an appetite after
everything that's happened today." She stopped and turned to face
him. "Look, if it's that big of a deal to you, I'll pay you back.
My salad was what, five fifty? And my iced-tea was-" "I don't
want your money, Red," he cut in gruffly. "That's not the point.
It's just... I thought you should eat, that's all. Never mind..." He
started off up the street and this time, Ginger walked one pace
behind him. Is he worried? Why? What does he care? He doesn't,
she answered her inner voice, recalling the way he'd left her that
morning. But, she mused, if he truly doesn't give a damn, then
why is he showing concern? Why act like he does. Because obviously,
he does. He cares. She shook her head. No he doesn't. Does he? God,
he was a confusing man. She didn't know whether he liked her or
hated her. He threw out so many mixed signals, it was damn near
impossible to tell. Her gaze rose from the heels of his cowboy
boots to the curves of his denim-clad cheeks. Now that's an ass,
she thought appreciatively. No, wait, he's an ass. She frowned
as a frantic male voice invaded her skull, displacing her thoughts.
"Hurts. Help me. Work. Sharp pain. Oh help. The electricity
was off, but it was on. No. Help. White-light, not ready. No. Sara,
oh, Sara. Need to help. Can't be dead. Help. Can't be. Baby, oh no.
Pain. Burning. Hurts. Help, help, help," She slapped her hands
over her ears in an effort to soften the crazy mantra that was
running around in her brain. It didn't work. She hurried forward,
past Mason. "No," she murmured. "Not now. I can't, not now." An
ambulance motored past them, lights on, sirens off. Ginger stopped
dead in her tracks, staring after the large white vehicle. She
shuddered violently and let out a small sad squeak. A hand
settled on her shoulder, she turned to find Mason staring at her
sympathetically. "Don't worry; he's going to be fine." She
shook her head. "No, he's not. He's dead." Mason's face went
blank. "What?" "Electrocution. On the job." She licked her lips
and nodded her head. "He's so upset, confused. He won't accept his
death. He's... he's frantic." "What? Who? Ginger, you're not
talking about your brother-in-law, are you?" She shot him a
look of surprise. "Teddy? No, of course not. I'm talking about
him." She turned and pointed to the ambulance, idling at a red
light a block ahead. Mason looked at the ambulance skeptically.
"Him who?" "Him. The dead guy. I don't know his name, he didn't
tell me; he was rambling." Mason turned his cynical gaze on
Ginger. "Are you trying to tell me there's a dead guy in that
ambulance and that he's talking to you?" "He was," she replied
curtly. "Huh." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She
started off for the hospital once more. "Yeah, whatever," she threw
back over her shoulder. "I think you're an asshole." "Hey, I
didn't say anything," Mason countered, hurrying to catch up with
her. "What the hell was for?" "I know you think I'm crazy."
"So, now you read minds too?" She stopped and shot him a
ferocious glare. "Do you think I like it? Do you think I enjoy
being scared out of my wits by the astral energies of vicious
killers and vile, murdering freaks? Then there's the vengeful,
jilted lovers; they're always a hoot and a half. Of course nothing
quite compares to having your mind invaded by desperate, lost souls
eager to return to the living. My, God, Mason, don't you think
I'd rather be blissfully ignorant of all the spiritual activity
that's buzzing around me, just like you?" His jaw tensed but
the insult went without retaliation. She started off, flipping her
long, copper hair back over her shoulder. He caught up with her a
block later. "So, how long have you had this gift; being able
to see... dead people?" "It's not a gift. It's a curse." She kept
walking.
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