He sighed. I could tell he was thinking long and hard about what to say next.
Finally he said innocently, “How are ya?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Um. Did you see the show last night?”
“Yes.”
“You hated it, didn’t you?”
Now it was my turn to think long and hard. I didn’t hate it, per se.
“My parents hated it.”
“Oh. Well. You know parents.”
“And your parents?”
Silence. Then, “My parents what?”
“Did they hate it too?”
“Both my parents are dead,” he replied bluntly. “But yes, I’m sure the show is making hell even worse for them.”
Did he just imply that both of his parents were in hell? I couldn’t tell if he was joking since he was even harder to read over the phone than in person. He could be as deadpan as anything but he always had that little wild gleam in his eye, if you looked for it.
“More importantly though,” he continued, “was what Jimmy thought of the whole…ordeal.”
“Which is why you called.”
“And to say hello. Jesus, Perry. What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” I exclaimed. My problem? Where did I begin? How about how not only did I almost die making some shoddy internet show, but that I gambled my entire career on it as well?
Only I couldn’t bring myself to say that to Dex. I didn’t want him to think I had put more stock into the project than I already had. I needed to save some sort of face in this situation, even if it was my own bloated and confused one.
“Perry?” he asked with a little more finesse.
I sighed. “Sorry. PMS, I guess. I’m fine. Please tell me what Jimmy thought of the show.”
“He said it was crap.”
“Oh, perfect.”
“Don’t worry though. He knows it was just a demo. He was a bit disappointed with the hits that we got, or misses, if you want to look at it that way. You know how pretentious those f**kers on YouTube can be. But I told him he barely put any f**king money into our baby, so what did he expect? I don’t know, he’s such a f**king idiot sometimes. I even suggested that you ask your company to look into the advertising, just to get something going.”
My heart dropped an inch. “Right. My company.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway, it’ll work a lot better this time. Now people know what to expect, what it’s about, who’s the host, where it is and whatever. Plus, you know, we’ll have a script of sorts and a storyboard and maybe you’ll do some actual research this time and –”
“Excuse me, actual research? Tell me how I’m supposed to do actual research when some sullen hipster locks me in his car and shoves a bunch of library books down my throat and expects me to read and memorize them all in two hours?”
“Whoa. Hey. Hipster? Come on, kiddo. I know you’re PMSing but there is no need for name calling here.”
I rolled my eyes. I wished he could have seen that over the phone.
“So there is a next time?” I asked.
“Um, yes. Were you not at the meeting a few weeks ago? If I remember correctly, I put my little ass on the line for you so that we could make this whole project happen. Do you recall that? Because if not then I may have to start upping my meds again and I’m already at full capacity.”
I did remember that meeting at Dex’s office. Jimmy, whom I had only just met seconds before, was going off about how unsuitable I was for the small screen. And by small screen, I mean the Internet. I wasn’t fit for the smallest screen possible. Jimmy was right too - I could tell from how awkward and gross I looked on camera - but for some reason (I blame it on insanity) that accusation really offended Dex and he ended up jumping to my defense. It was very touching, noble and unnecessary. It was also his conviction that made me believe that we could actually make this show and pull it off.
Just because my parents didn’t like it and people weren’t fawning all over it like I had hoped, I didn’t know why I had lost all that faith and conviction myself. Dex hadn’t.
“I remember,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
He exhaled slowly. A long pause awkwardly filled the cellular waves. “I don’t need you to thank me, just…listen. There is a next time, as we had discussed. This Thursday night we’re flying to New Mexico, coming back on Monday. You did get the time off of work, right?”
“Er, yes?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I said impatiently. “New Mexico? I thought last time you mentioned something about Texas.”
“I did. But I got a call from an old, well, acquaintance of mine and apparently there’s some sort of activity at a ranch that he says would be perfect for the show. He’s going to meet us there and set everything up.”
“What’s the activity?” I asked, intrigued. I felt my mind being happily diverted.
“Poltergeists. I think. Something’s been terrorizing a Native American couple down there. And unless you have a greater knowledge of them than some creepy blonde girl saying “They’re here” while fondling a TV set, I would say that this would be a good time to get your butt to a library after work and get some books out about it. I would like it, no, love it, if one of us knew what we were dealing with.”
I agreed. I just hoped they had books like How to put on a successful webcast without looking like a douche and Dex Foray: When crazy came to town at the library as well.
Unfortunately, there were no such books at the library downtown. I did, however, find some pretty informative books on poltergeists. It kind of scared me to take the books out of the library lest they start glowing or doing strange things like fly around my room at night. I was already having vague nightmares about killer coyotes and fanged apparitions and didn’t need any more fuel for that fire, but I was also determined to not have either of us come across as a “fucktard,” as Dex so eloquently puts it.
Poltergeists, for the most part, seemed to be pretty unhappy spirits with a vendetta against humanity and eye for trickery. I knew that if I died I’d definitely come back as one. It actually was quite appealing, throwing shit around and scaring hapless people out of their homes, just to be an ass. I started looking forward to “meeting” these ass**le ghosts.