In the Dark, Part 3

Despite rush hour traffic and the usual snarls up and down the interstate this time of the day, they still made it from Richmond to Petersburg in about a half hour. Centre Hill Mansion wasn’t far from the Washington Street exit—a right onto Jefferson, a left onto Franklin…who said history was dead? Centre Hill Avenue was another right off Franklin, and looped around a cultivated lawn lined with iron wrought lamp posts from another era and No Parking signs from this one. At the top of the loop sprawled a restored, two-story brick building with a long, Greek Revival-style porch that stretched the length of the home. A wide staircase led to the porch, and beyond that were a pair of white double doors, shut at the moment.

Definitely a mansion, Sean mused. My bad.

David slowed as he drove past. “There it is.”

“Your first ghost encounter?” Sean asked, only half teasing. “Didn’t you say you had some sort of experience there?”

“Yeah, last year.” David goosed the gas pedal and they edged around the other side of the loop. “My first was when I was little. Like six or so. We lived in a haunted house.”

Sean snorted derisively. “Sure you did.”

“Someone died there!” David claimed.

“Someone died everywhere,” Sean told him. “If not in the building that’s there now, then on the ground before the land was developed. Look around us. This whole area saw bloody battles not once but twice, during the Revolution and again during the Civil War. People died here. That doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

With a scowl, David muttered, “You don’t know that.”

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” Sean asked suddenly.

David gave him a sharp look. “You mean like ghosts? Yeah.”

“No,” Sean explained, “I mean heaven or hell. The Christian—the religious view of what happens when you die. Where you go. Where your soul goes, assuming they exist. Do you believe in that?”

They were back on Franklin Street, and David stopped at the light a long moment to wait for an opening to make a right onto Adams. Another historical dead white guy. Sean waited until they were stopped at the next light and was just about to ask again when David shrugged beside him. “I mean, yeah. Don’t you?”

Instead of answering, Sean pointed out, “Then if you believe we go somewhere else after we die, why the hell would anyone want to hang around here?”

Seeing where he was going with this, David replied with more confidence in his voice. “Because maybe they’re stuck here? I don’t know. That’s why I do these investigations. To find proof that ghosts are real—”

“They aren’t,” Sean interjected.

David ignored him. “And maybe somehow help them move on. Maybe they don’t want to be here. Maybe—”

“Maybe they’re just a bunch of spooky stories made up for the tourists,” Sean suggested. “Where are we going to eat?”

The light changed and David turned onto Bank Street. “A little deli called Longstreet’s. Right ahead.”

The deli sat on the corner of Bank and Sycamore. It looked inviting—Sean could see crowded tables inside as they drove past, so he was surprised when David easily found a parking spot on the street just beyond the door to the place. They got out of the car and were halfway to the door when Sean remembered the camera in the back seat. “Oh shit.”

“Are we seriously going to record us eating?” David asked.

“We’re recording everything,” Sean reminded him. “Except trips to the bathroom. I’ll give you that. The last thing I want is to come home tomorrow morning with enough footage for a month’s worth of videos only to get demonetized because you decide to keep the camera rolling when you need to take a shit.”

They stood on the sidewalk facing each other, David watching Sean, waiting for…what, exactly? Almost a full minute went by before he asked, “So should I go get it?”

Sean had to laugh. “Yes, go get it! Jeez. You have the keys.”

It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

Inside, Longstreet’s looked more like a sports bar than a deli. Amber bottles of booze glistened behind a polished bar, and a long, high table lined with stools separated it from the rest of the dining area. Tables for groups of four were off to one side, with bistro tables for two in each window for ambiance. Because it was Halloween, most of the patrons were dressed in some sort of costume, from long capes to witch’s hats, cat ears to fairy wings. The servers were zombies—all of them wore torn and bloodied clothes, their faces powdered white with dark hollows around their eyes and blood dribbling from the corners of their mouths. Behind the bar, a man wearing devil horns and impish wings poured drinks.

As Sean and David waited to be seated, a couple at one of the bistro tables got up to leave. The hostess approached, wearing a black cat suit, cat ears, and a long tail. She turned towards them with menus in hand but Sean spoke before she could, pointing at the vacancy. “There, please.”

It was a good choice. Being by the window made it seem as if they were a bit removed from the rest of the deli, and hopefully the camera’s mic wouldn’t pick up too much of the surrounding noise. Sean spent a few moments fiddling with it, trying to angle the lens to catch both of them in the frame. Finally he admitted, “We’re going to have to sit closer together if you want to be in the shot.”

David frowned. “Why am I the one not in the shot?”

“It’s my camera,” Sean reminded him, scooting his chair around the table towards David. “Come on, you too. Move in a little.”

With a groan, David complied, moving his chair a few inches towards Sean’s.

Sean bent around to peer through the viewfinder. “A little more.” When David made a face, Sean rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. I don’t bite.”

“If we sit any closer, people will think we’re on a date,” David groused. “Which we aren’t.”

“Who cares what they think?” Checking the viewfinder one last time, Sean slid into his own seat. Under his breath, he muttered, “He doth protest too much.”

David looked up from the menu sharply. “What’d you say?”

Sean waved it away. “Nothing.”

“This is not a date,” David said, directing his words towards the camera. “I’m paying for my food, he’s paying for his.”

“Maybe we’re going Dutch,” Sean suggested.

David shook his head. “A date ends with a kiss.”

“Not always.”

But David was adamant. “Yes, always. At least for me. So this isn’t a date. This is dinner. Where’s our damn server, anyway?”

Sean made a face at the camera. “Jeez, man, chill. I’m just kidding.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hungry.” David leaned back to signal to someone so they could order. “And we have a ghost tour starting soon.”

Sean smirked. “Then we’re having a sleepover in a haunted house.”

That earned him a menacing glare. “Can you at least try to take this seriously?” David wanted to know.

With a laugh, Sean pointed out, “There’s literally nothing serious about this!”

* * * *

The menu was tempting, with everything from fried pickles to ribeye steak, but they were in a bit of a hurry so they settled for burgers and fries. Sean opted for the boom boom burger, which oozed a pink aioli chili sauce from between the beef patty and bun. Crisp iceberg lettuce leaves and thick tomato slices sweetened the sauce’s spicy kick. It was so tasty, he flagged down the server for a small container of sauce to dip his fries in. “Best. Burger. Ever,” he said around a mouthful of food.

“Agreed.” David dug into a bacon and kimchi burger, and from the way he moaned into it, Sean suspected it was just as good as his.

Now there’s a sound I’d like to hear during sex. Sean took another quick bite to hide his smirk before David saw it.

He must’ve been hungrier than he thought because he devoured the burger and used all the fries to mop up every last drop of boom boom sauce. He stopped short of licking the plate, but damn, that was tasty!

The server brought them separate bills—David insisted on it upfront, heaven forbid they actually split the check themselves. The place had gotten busier since they came in, so they decided to pay at the register and let someone else have their table. It seemed faster to get in line than wait for their server to return, and within minutes Sean was handing his bill and debit card to a cashier wearing a Bavarian tube top, barmaid corset, and a big black witch’s hat from which multicolor mesh tubes and brightly dyed curls escaped.

She gave them a quick once over before asking, “Who’re you supposed to be?”

Sean looked at David, confused. “Me?”

She nodded at a sign by the register that read, Come in costume! 10% off your meal!

It was David who answered first. “Ah, well, we are going to spend the night in a haunted house.”

“Allegedly haunted,” Sean clarified.

“So you’re ghost hunters,” the cashier said. “Both of you?”

Sean pointed out, “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

The cashier gave him a long-suffering look. “You do believe in getting a discount, right? But you need to be dressed as something.”

“Well, I’m a YouTuber.” Sean held up his camera as if that were proof enough.

Another long look, and finally the cashier rang him up. “One ghost hunter and one…influencer.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sean started.

David elbowed him quiet. “Ten percent, man. Shut up.”

“I’m recording this,” Sean reminded him. “I can’t say I’m something I’m not, I’ll get eaten alive for it in the comments.”

The cashier handed back his card and receipt. “Fine, whatever. I gave it to you. Next time dress up.”

“We aren’t going trick-or-treating,” Sean muttered. “We’re—”

“Going ghost hunting,” David said, edging past him to hand his card to the cashier. “So you’re a ghost hunter. It doesn’t mean you believe in them, just that you’re looking for them. Step aside, will you? It’s my turn.”

Sean stepped back and turned the camera around so he could stare into the dark lens. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said, just in case anyone watching thought otherwise. “I’m not looking for them, either. I’m looking to disprove them. There’s a difference.”

Leaning against the counter, David shook his head, bemused. “Who’re you talking to, yourself?”

Sean made a finger gun with his free hand and winked as he pointed at the camera. “My fans. And yours. And whoever’s watching because this came up as a recommendation in their feed.”

David rolled his eyes. “Are you always this insufferable?”

With a laugh, Sean teased, “You have all night to find out.”

To be continued …