Ghost Tamer by Meredith R. Lyons EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Meredith R. Lyons
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal & Urban Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“It’s coming. Let’s run.”
Joe and I sprinted through the thick snowflakes toward the El platform,
pounding up the salt-strewn stairs two at a time. Scanned our passes licketysplit and leapt onto the very first car just as the warning bell chimed and the
doors glided shut.
“Winners.” Joe held his gloved hand up without turning around and I
smacked my mittened palm against his for a muffled high five. He pointed
to the front of the car. “Hey, Raely, your favorite seats. Must be your lucky
day, girl.”
“Excellent!” I clamped onto my friend’s shoulder and wove after him
through the passengers as the elevated train bobbed and swayed.
It was a few hours after the rush, and the train was not uncomfortably
packed. Joe and I lucked into those first two seats at the front behind the
driver. I loved being able to see out to the tracks in front. Made it almost
like a carnival ride. As soon as I was settled in my seat, leaning back
against the side window, Joe launched into an impassioned critique of my
stand-up set. We were both out of breath from our sprint. Still buzzing from
the adrenaline of recent stage time.
“I mean, you have to feel good about that bit with the birthday cup,” he
said. “That one is solid . . .” We had just finished five-minute solo sets at an
early evening open mic. I liked the earlier ones, fewer people. Although Joe
was trying to get me to commit to a “real” one—8 p.m. or later, true show
time—sometime before spring.
Other passengers surrounding us in our little section of the train stood
either reading or plugged into music or podcasts. Everyone created their
own space. Joe’s ardent critique of my set didn’t register to the average
commuter, although a few smiled to themselves, glancing over at him,
perhaps catching some of his clever turns of phrase. Since he was in flow,
he was still standing, gesticulating, while I gazed up at him.
I flung my legs across the seat he had not yet taken and studied him. He
was one of those guys who would always be okay. He could easily
transition from his office job to any bohemian shenanigans that he may get
the urge to dabble in with a simple change of clothes and an alteration of
mousse pattern. His set had been perfect. He’d nailed every bit. And for
some reason, he always wanted me to do just as well.
“Okay, now you do mine,” he demanded, one gloved hand gripping the
upright post as he swayed with the train, the fluorescent overhead lights
gilding his dirty-blond hair, bleaching him into overexposure. “What did
you think? Where do I need to tighten it up? I thought the part about the
reunion email was a little meh . . .”
“Joe, none of it was ‘meh.’” I’d spent much of his set resisting the urge
to tell the people next to me, That’s my best friend up there. “I think you
should just go for the whole ten minutes next time. It was spot-on. The
audience was with you the entire time. I think they were disappointed when
you were done, honestly.”
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