In Over My Head

Going to kill you.

I’d sent the text message so frequently over the last few weeks, I didn’t even need to look at the phone keys to type it out, anymore. I just thanked God for baggy jeans with big pockets and glanced down at the back lit screen before Jason could notice me doing it.

Message Sent.

“And, bottom line here, guys: I just don’t want any problems. Y’know, it might be none of my business, but…” Jay was mid-lecture and Grant was nodding along amiably, probably listening to less of what was being said than I was.

Across the table, Tango snapped out of his ‘in-one-ear-and-out-the-other’ trance with a start. I heard the sound of a phone vibrating, but nobody else seemed to. I watched as he looked down at his hands and back up again a minute later. His eyes met mine briefly and I gave him a half-hearted dirty look. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I broke my stare to see what he’d sent me.

Not my fault.

I sighed to myself and stuffed the phone deeper into my pocket, done with the conversation already. Jay was still droning, and I tried to force myself to listen.

“We’ve got a great team, here, and I just don’t want anything to compromise that…”

Thankfully, the cameras weren’t rolling. If they were, I probably would’ve hung myself from the flickering fluorescent lights just to demonstrate how I felt about the whole situation. I could hear the previews in my head: Ghost Hunters, season six! Find out which TAPS member has had enough. I almost could’ve laughed.

I was sitting between Amy Bruni and Kris Williams, which was sort of weird because I didn’t know either of them very well. Tango was directly across from me, next to Grant. Jason stood at the head of the table to my right. Two seats to my left, arms crossed, hat pulled low, was Steve.

To say things had been tense would have been a gross understatement. Curt nods had replaced cups of coffee and trips in to Boston. We didn’t joke around. We didn’t talk. I’d taken to hanging out in Jay and Grant’s office instead of his, and everyone at the TAPS office had definitely taken notice.

It was still sort of a mystery how everybody found out about the night Steve and I had spent together in my hotel room. Tango swore (his mother’s life, actually) that he hadn’t said anything, and half of me believed him, but it was easy to blame him because I knew he’d forgive me for it two minutes later.

It had seemed like the second we’d returned home from that particular investigation, the rumors had started flying. According to Tango, Kris and Amy thought Steve and I were secretly dating, and that Steve had been caught leaving my room by Jay. It was an absolute mess, not made any easier by the fact that Jay felt the need to take it upon himself to alleviate all the tension. Not one of his strongest skills, really, mostly because he was so damn intimidating.

“So, I don’t know what’s going on between certain members,” Jay continued, looking between me and Steve with a little less subtlety than I would’ve deemed fitting, “But I just know that things are starting to affect the rest of us, and we’ve got to find some way around that. I don’t care what goes on outside these four walls, but, basically, guys, you’ve got to figure stuff out because we don’t want to have to lose anyone.”

I inwardly wondered why everyone had to be present to hear his spiel; it was clearly only directed at the two of us, anyway, which was pretty much painfully obvious. It would only add fuel to the fire, in my opinion.

The meeting cleared and I found myself in Jay and Grant’s office, sitting on a folding chair in the corner. Grant was using his laptop, and it was nice to sit there in the quiet with someone who I knew wouldn’t ask me any stupid questions about my, as of late, not-so-personal life. I stared at my yellow sneakers and reveled in the feeling of not having to explain myself.

“I brought leftover Eggplant Puttanesca, if you’re hungry.” He said after a little while. “It’s down in the fridge. It has your name on it.”

I lifted my head and we looked at each other steadily. He didn’t look teasing, he just looked like a nice guy who knew how to cook and who also knew me well enough to assume that I wouldn’t have packed a lunch for myself. I smiled pretty wide and he chuckled.

“You’re a good guy, Grant.” I said.

“Yeah, well, eat up. We’re shipping out in a couple hours.”

-x-

The six-and-a-half hour ride up to the hotel had proven itself to be nothing short of excruciating; Steve hadn’t even acknowledged my existence and Tango, presumably sensing the discomfort, had stayed quiet and successfully made the atmosphere even more unbearable. I’d stumbled out of the van a red-faced mess and hidden in my hotel room until the last possible second, at which point Jay had started banging on my door and saying that I’d better get my ass down to the lobby or he’d break the door down and drag me out by my ears. I usually would’ve laughed, but, instead, I’d just slunk out, coat in hand, and followed him like an idiot puppy. He noticed my lack of bravado and tried to straighten me out.

“What the hell is going on with you, Hale?”

“Nothing.” I said shortly, not wishing to discuss it. Really, I probably would’ve rather set myself on fire than have someone bring the subject up again, but when Jay wanted to talk about something, there usually wasn’t any way around it.

“Bull.” He rumbled, scratching his new goatee. “Is there something going on between you and Steve? Now, I don’t want to know details, but you’ve both been off your game lately and it’s starting to effect everyone.”

I sighed and let my shoulders sag a little. He raised his eyebrows.

“No, there is nothing going on between Steve and I. No, we are not secretly dating. No, nothing happened when we were investigating in New York. And, just to be safe, no I’m not pregnant, no, I’m not cheating on Steve with Tango, and, no, I most certainly am not your secret illegitimate child.” I raked my fingers through my hair and ignored Jay’s atypical shocked expression. “With the way all the goddamn rumors have been flying, lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if one or all of the three started going around, too.”

“Are you okay?” He actually stopped walking, put a hand on my shoulder, and gave me a look which was probably meant to be comforting. I couldn’t seem to shake the thought that he slightly resembled a concerned Mr. Potato Head and had to look away before I started laughing and really got myself into shit.

“I hate my life.” I sighed. “But, other than that, I’m great.”

“I think you’ve lost it, Hale.” He said, dropping his hand.

“Probably.”

We continued down the hall and eventually ended up in the lobby where camera crews were waiting to film us head out for the case. I pulled my coat on over my TAPS hoodie and stood next to Tango, who glanced at me sideways and opened his mouth to whisper.

“Don’t ask me how I am.” I hissed before he could utter a sound. He deflated a little as he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“I’m guessing you’re not great?” He said through tight lips.

“No. You know, I’m sort of pissed at Steve for not backing me up on this.”

“Not backing you up on what?”

“Not backing me up when I try to tell everyone nothing happened between us.” I said, my voice raising a little in pitch. I actually turned to look at him imploringly. “Because, seriously, no one seems to want to believe me by myself. Do you know what I saw today, Tango? Internet rumors. About me! And Steve!”

For the record, I was saying nothing but the truth. While on my daily perusal of the TAPS message boards (via mobile phone with excellent internet capabilities from the back seat of the tech van in the middle of nowhere), I’d stumbled across a thread discussing the possibility of a relationship between Steve and I, which had apparently stemmed from a sighting of the two of us on our last trip to Boston. I’d almost ended it all right there with a ballpoint pen through the eye.

“Well, you guys sort of did spend a lot of time together.” Tango said uneasily, shrugging his right shoulder.

“I know.” I said with a sigh. “And I’m kind of bummed we don’t anymore. But it’d be nice if he could grow a pair and help me out here. I don’t like being gossiped about. It makes me edgy.”

“I noticed.” He mumbled. I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. “Did you ever think that maybe he didn’t think it was nothing?”

“No. Why, did he say something to you?”

Tango shook his head vigorously and I couldn’t interrogate him further because the cameras had started rolling, and we were all supposed to look really enthusiastic about going out in the freezing cold for another investigation. I managed to plaster a smile on my face, which became not-so difficult when Tango let me ride on his back out to the van, but then got difficult again when, ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a decrepit looking house, which very obviously did not have a heating system, and also which we would be wandering around in for the next seven hours, or so.

“Should’ve worn long johns.” Tango said regretfully. Steve actually chuckled and we climbed out of the van.

Cameras were already set up and rolling, and Jay went through the usual “you guys start setting up and we’ll head inside”, then he, Grant, and Steve disappeared inside the house to follow around whoever had called us out here in the first place. Tango and I, the only other investigators on the case, didn’t actually start setting up because we never did. That would be filmed later and turned into an exciting montage for the show. Instead, we stood huddled against the side of the tech van, waiting for the tour to be over. I zipped my coat up to my chin and crossed my arms over my chest. Tango did the same.

“Okay,” I said, keeping my face tucked into the neck of my sweatshirt. “Okay, so what did you mean by ‘maybe he didn’t think it was nothing’?”

“I didn’t mean anything.” He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “I just meant maybe you should think about it.”

“But a statement like that couldn’t be unfounded. Especially not coming from you.” I said. He rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored my insult.

“I don’t know, Hale. Steve’s a good guy. Maybe he’s just, you know, a little bummed by how you’re telling everyone who’ll listen that nothing happened between the two of you.”

“But nothing did happen!” I said, throwing my hands up.

“I’m just saying - maybe that’s not how he sees it.”

“Did he tell you something?” I demanded. Tango shook his head. “Tango, come on, I have to know.”

“No.” He said simply.

“‘No’, he didn’t say something? Or ‘no’ you won’t tell me?”

“Just no, Carling.” He said, shrugging and smiling.

“I hate you, Dave Tango.” I sighed.

“No you don’t.” He chuckled. I shrugged. “Come on, no you don’t.” He put his hand behind my ear and came away with a quarter.

“No, I don’t. Teach me how to do that.”

And for the next twenty minutes, he tried to. When Jay, Grant, and Steve came back outside, I still hadn’t gotten it down and figured I probably wouldn’t because, according to Tango, it was the easiest one in the book. Anyway, we had to start unloading the van and begin setup for that night’s investigation, so I tucked the quarter into my pocket and started hauling equipment into the house, thankful for the excuse to be moving because I’d be warmer that way.

Steve wanted a camera set up in the attic, but told me in an oddly professional voice (probably because the cameras were rolling) that he wanted a shot of the whole room and, in order to get that shot, I’d have to put the camera up on the ledge of a crawlspace near the ceiling. There was no expression in his face when he told me this, but I sort of got the vibe that he was doing it just to be a dick. Stupid Steve. Without saying anything, I snatched up an IR case and a mess of extension cords and trooped off up the stairs, memorizing the floor plan as I went so that I wouldn’t trip and fall to my death after lights out.

Indeed, the attic was an eerie place, and I hesitated at the base of its rickety stairs, which was probably a mistake because Jay and Grant were standing at the end of the hallway, overseeing set up on the second floor.

“Losing your nerve, Hale?” Grant called. I glanced over my shoulder at him.

“You know, Grant, it’s creepy up there even with the lights on.” I said honestly.

“Really?” He meandered over and followed me up the stairs, then stood with his arms crossed, staring around while I prepared the IR and digital recorder.

The ledge that Steve wanted the camera on was significantly higher off the floor than I’d expected; easily seven feet. From my height of five foot three-and-a-half, I stared up at it, camera in hand, with mixed annoyance and despair. I needed help, and that was something I was not very good at asking for.

“Grant.” I finally muttered.

“Hm?” He said from across the room, where he was testing his weight on some old floorboards.

“Can I get a leg up, over here?” I said, motioning toward the ledge. He glanced up at me, then grinned.

“You’re killing me, Hale.” He said, then crossed the room and knelt in front of me with his hands cupped together. I stepped into them and hoisted myself up.

“You know I have no upper-body strength, man.” I grunted, bent nearly double under the low, cobwebby ceiling. He chuckled and handed the IR, the digital recorder, and the extension cords up to me. I took the last with a heavy sigh.

“Who in the hell wound these cords?” I said, sitting with my legs dangling over the edge and beginning to untangle the multiple knots wound into the lengths of plastic-y wire tubing. “I’m going to kill them. And this time, I really mean it.” I said.

“Good luck up there.” Grant said, then disappeared back down the stairs. I whistled to myself while I worked, ignoring the camera and sound guys that had appeared in Grant’s stead. Such a thing became easy once you stopped caring what the cameras saw and didn’t see. It eventually got to the point when you hardly noticed them at all, unless you were in the middle of an intense EVP session and they stuck the lens in your face, or something.

“Steve to Carling.”

I unclipped my walkie from my belt and held it close to my mouth. “Go for Carling.”

“What’s going on with that camera?”

“Well, Steve, it’s not set up, yet, because whoever wound these extension cords is an idiot. I’m currently up to my elbows in orange wires and could use an extra minute to get situated.” I allowed a little venom to seep into my voice, but not enough for anyone who might watch the episode when it aired to pick up on. Only Steve. There was a minute of silence.

“Copy.”

I finished untangling cords, positioned the IR camera so that it was angled toward the rest of the room, and made the sound guy plug the other end of the cord in for me. He did because I smiled at him. The Infrared lights glowed, and I hit the call button on my walkie again.

“Carling to Jay.”

“Go for Jay.”

“Hey, are you at central command?” I asked, referring to the desk where all the monitors and recording software would be set up. I was pretty sure it was out in the van, which would suck because that’s where I’d be spending my time when I wasn’t investigating.

“Yeah.”

“Right, what do you think about this angle?”

“Turn it camera-right just a smidge.” Ha, Jay using the word ‘smidge’ never, ever got old. “Right, now down a little. Perfect. Lock it down right there.”

“Copy.”

I hopped down from the crawlspace and headed toward the stairs, taping down extension cords and dodging the camera crew as I went. The house was empty, but was wired for investigation. I was careful not to snag on any cords or audio devices, and made it out the front door without altering anything. The van was indeed central command, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets before heading over for the bull-shit briefing about camera angles and mini DV’s that Steve would give, more for the benefit of the cameras than us. I stopped next to Tango and he grinned at me before Steve started talking. I zoned out for a minute, not really caring where cameras were, only wanting to get inside out of the cold to hunt some ghosts.

“Right,” Jay said, clapping his hands together. “Grant and I will head in first, then you guys can do your thing.”

According to the temperature gauge I whipped out after they’d gone, the ambient temperature inside the open van was twelve point two degrees and dropping steadily. Steve, Tango, and I would have to monitor command central until Jay and Grant were finished with their sweep, which could take hours if they got any sort of response. My nose already felt like it would fall off if I moved my head too quickly.

Best detail yet, Steve looked like he’d rather drink gasoline than stand next to me and make civilized conversation. I settled into a folding chair inside the van and buried my hands in my coat pockets.

Paranormal investigation at it’s finest, man. Seriously.