Hot Spots

Chapter One

The only reason I doubted the existence of ghosts was because I trusted the greed of humans. Why would a dead guy hide from fame and fortune? I'd sell the rights to my afterlife for a film deal, if only to prove the naysayers wrong. You always thought I was crazy and drug fucked, but look! Ghosts do exist! I was right all along.

When I shared that plan with people, they usually said, "That's why people think you're crazy and drug fucked, Jane." I told them that was the way I liked it.

Speak of the Devil's harvest: Felix snapped me back to reality by handing me his bong. "Do you want another bowl?"

"Why not?"

I jabbed my toe into the air bed on Felix's floor. Air wheezed out of a pinprick-sized hole by my hand, tickling my palm. I strained to feel affection for the inflatable mattress. Patched with duct tape, at least 20 years old, and looking bad for its age, this would be my home until I got the money for a new place. My ex's parents had recently terminated my cleaning position at their bed-and-breakfast. She had been a closeted lesbian, and I was an out and proud bisexual. When her folks found out, it ended badly.

I dumped a large blue backpack underneath the window.

"The walls get mouldy," said Felix. "Make sure nothing you like touches them."

Wellington accommodation. Fucking beautiful. "Does your bathroom window have a tree growing through it?" I asked.

"Not that I know of."

"Then it's already better than my old place." Definitely better than homelessness.

"Great." Felix collapsed onto his back. His bed creaked and moaned. "More pot, Janie?"

I slid a joint out of my cigarette case, lit it swiftly, and passed it to Felix. "It's your pot anyway."

He drew in a deep breath. "Sharing is caring."

"How are you so nice?" I asked. "It's uncanny."

Felix's eyes glinted. "I'm a robot."

"I thought you might be."

"I was made by an underground group of radical anarchists." He lowered his voice. "And I've been programmed to lead a revolution."

"Tell me more." Sweet smoke swirled on my tongue.

"That's confidential."

We cracked up. It felt damn good to laugh.

A few minutes later, the patterns of mould on Felix's ceiling hypnotised me. "That one looks like a hippo," I informed him.

"Where?"

"Over there." I pointed at the grey blob on the ceiling.

"I don't see it."

"Maybe you have to come down to the floor to see it properly."

"Fuck that."

"Fair enough." Sometimes when I got high, I stayed still and silent for so long I had to twitch my fingers to make sure I was still alive and breathing. Relaxation evaded me.

"You're frowning." Felix propped his chin on his fist. "What's up?"

"Rent prices and unemployment rates."

"Chill, Jane. You can stay here as long as you need to, rent free."

I checked the bank app on my phone for the umpteenth time that day. I still had $422 in my savings to last indefinitely. My chest tightened. How could I breathe when I'd applied for 30 jobs last week and only one bothered to get back to me with a rejection? I wanted to pay Felix something for the room, food, and weed he provided. I needed to set money aside for bond, power, rent, and food at my new place. I needed to find a new place.