When it happened, this is the first place I went. I couldn’t go home. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t imagine bringing any of what I did into my mother’s life, to the Angels. Obviously I knew it was going to get back to them within a matter of hours, and I had seen the kind of punishment they dealt out for less. I was a ghost. I was nothing. I was the rolling credits on a life that I had completely destroyed.

 

“My god, is this it? Holy shit, look at this place!”

 

Jess snapped back from her thoughts as soon as he spoke. Was I talking out loud to him? Did I actually whisper all that in his ear? Obviously she hadn’t or he wouldn’t be allowing her to press herself up to him like she was as they eased to a stop in front of the house.

 

She must be more exhausted than she thought. The vibration of the bike beneath her and the warmth of his body against hers as they rode through the summer rain must have lulled her into some sort of trance, her memories playing out like a movie. She had to be more careful. As soon as they got inside and out of the rain, her head would clear, she was sure of it.

 

“This is it,” she murmured, the words breathed into his ear.

 

“I can’t believe that no one has bought and restored this place. It would be worth a fortune.” He cut the engine and craned his neck almost all the way back as he took in the sheer size of the mansion. “Nobody owns it?” He shook his head in disbelief. People would be standing in lines around the block to buy a house like this in Atlanta.

 

“Somebody probably does, but it belongs to the ghosts now,” Jess said, enjoying his awe.

 

There were hundreds of homes like this in Detroit. Amazing examples of opulence from when the city was the pride of the nation. People with more money and style than forethought came tumbling into town and built their dream homes from the ground up. When this house was built it had been one of the most impressive homes in the city.

 

Now it resembled something from the campy horror films she and Ron had enjoyed together when she growing up. Half of it was being eaten away by encroaching vines and brush, and the other half was simply falling into disrepair. For anyone but Jess, it was a tricky place to maneuver. She, however, knew all of its secrets, and it knew all of hers.

 

The rain began to pick up again and the ivy leaves, lush and green, started to tremble with the weight of the downpour. In the dark, they looked like a massive swarm of bats, sucking the life right out of the building.

 

“You’re sure it’s safe? The place looks like it is about to fall in.”

 

Jess snickered. “Just follow my lead. I’ve been in there dozens of times.”

 

“Let’s get inside then,” Scott said, restarting the bike and maneuvering it up the curb and closer to the front door. “Were getting soaked out here.”

 

He parked his bike and she slid off, waiting while he eased the bike onto the stand and made sure it wouldn’t tumble to the ground.

 

Jesus, what a dark little fairy tale this is turning out to be, she thought. She took his hand and was surprised when he didn’t let go. Rather, he allowed her to lead him up to the cracked stone steps to the massive double front door.

 

“Do you have a key?” he asked, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

 

Jess thought for a second he sounded a bit nervous. She smiled to herself. This is how slasher movies started. He didn’t know her any more about her than she knew about him, and although she could hear her mother and Val’s collective voices screaming in the back of her head for her to stop, she ignored them completely. “Watch and learn,” she replied with a grin. Leaning against the right door, she pushed her hips into the spot beside the lock and then gave it a firm hip check. There was a loud bang and Jess stepped back for dramatic effect as the scarred oak door swung open with a creak. She was pleased when Scott laughed, pleased not only because of what she did, but because of that understated chuckle of his, more of a tiger growl than a laugh.

 

“I’m impressed,” he said. “Truly a woman with talented hips.”

 

She giggled and without thinking, took his hand and led him inside. If he played his cards right, he might find out what else I can do with my hips. “Just you wait.”

 

Walking into the dark, she could hear Scott catch his breath beside her. She had to admit it was still an impressive sight. They stood in an enormous entry, the oak paneling and black marble floors dust-coated and scarred, but it was impossible to hide the opulence of the place. Before them, as if inviting the two to journey up, was a broad staircase of the same icy black stone that covered the floor. Back in its heyday, it must’ve been magnificent.

 

Scott looked around dramatically as if looking for something. “Why do I feel like I just stepped into a slasher movie?”

 

Jess giggled in delight again, enjoying that he was thinking the same thing she was. “This house was built in 1887 for James Scott. He created the Scott Foundation. The style is Victorian, or maybe Richardson Romanesque. Can imagine this place, back when it was new?”

 

Scott looked at her, impressed that she seemed to know so much about the house, recalling facts with ease. “You seem to know a lot about it.”

 

She looked down and smiled. “Yeah. I love these old places. I used to explore them when I was younger. I would give a lot to see this place restored to its former glory.”

 

He looked around again, taking in the place. It was no doubt impressive, but to restore it would probably cost millions. He looked up, watching the rain dribbling in through the holes in the ceiling and puddling on the marble with splatter. He let his hand slip out of hers as he moved, transfixed by the place, stepping over debris and dodging drips. He walked past the rotting sofas, piled with beer cans from a party long ago, and ran his hand along the peeled wallpaper. There were dark spots where pictures had once hung, now replaced by gang tags and amateur graffiti, but in the pale light from the city he could just make out the pattern. He was awestruck that a home such as this could be sitting, abandoned and forlorn, in the middle of the city. Even Detroit.

 

Jess nervously waited for him to say something. Would he demand they leave? Would this decrepit castle be enough to send him packing? He stopped at the foot of the stair, staring up them. Even in the dark, Jess could see a broad smile across his face when he turned and her smile joined his in relief.

 

“This is quite the clubhouse you’ve got here. We used to hang out in barns where I grew up, but you hung out in a castle,” he said, his voice loud and full in the empty room. He looked back up the stairs and stepped up onto the first tread. “I want to see it all.”