Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Lennox

The sun settles along the top of the triple decker row houses that line the streets in this part of Boston. Our shooting location isn't far from Randy's. It's just a couple of blocks walk past the red brick vintage market, an easy walk. Jamie rolls the cart around one of the black and yellow fire hydrants, and I step aside to give him room, ducking under a magnolia tree studded along the sidewalk, the sweet, citrusy scent overlaying the always present smells of the harbor, sometimes a salty brine, but right now more like a faint nip in the evening air.

Reed and Indy trail behind, each carrying one of the boxes, talking as they walk. Well, Indy is talking, her voice bouncing off the bricks. In the silences between her words, I assume Reed's responding, although I can't hear his voice.

Why am I listening?

It's not like this is the first person who Indy has brought around. Her dating history is pretty varied, and she's upfront about everything. I've never really had a thought about anyone she's dated before. Is that what she and Reed are doing?

Casually dating? I try to think back to the first time she mentioned him. It was maybe a few weeks ago? She and Lucía went to a party over at BU. I suppose that's probably where she met him? Does he go to school there? He looks older than twenty-two.

Fuck. Why do I care ?

I sigh, rolling my shoulders and glancing across the street toward some of the older, un-rehabbed houses with shiplap siding and rusted a/c units popping out of the upper windows.

It feels like a thousand miles away from some college party over at BU. An entirely different life.

I'd rather be here.

I love this part of Boston. The old mixed with the new. Especially in the early evening, like now, the lights playing interesting patterns, waking up those parts of my brain that always live in fantasy, wondering what lingers in the narrow shadows between the row houses.

Honestly, I rarely leave. Neither Jamie, Indy, or I own a car. We live a few blocks from Randy's. My work and the gym are here too. Anywhere else, it's easier to take the Red Line or an Uber. I spent the first eighteen years of my life living somewhere I hated, and I've got no desire to go back to that.

I glance over at Jamie and then pull the strap of my messenger back over my head, reaching out for the handle of his dolly.

He side-eyes me dubiously under Willis, slowing his progress as he curves around a raised crack in the sidewalk, broken from the roots of another magnolia tree. "I've got it."

"You promised to eat some almonds."

He groans. "Fine."

I take the cart from him, and he digs in the side pocket of his backpack. He pulls out a small baggie of nuts. It's a hundred calories total, maybe. And I doubt he'll eat half of it.

He slips a sliver of almond into his mouth, focused ahead as we turn the corner and the six-foot high wrought iron gate comes into view.

Our feet automatically slow, the space between us on the sidewalk narrowing. I pull the cart over another raised crack in the sidewalk, but I'm hardly thinking about it now.

We slow even more at the far edge of the fence. The building looms behind.

The Belmont.

It's an old hotel. An abandoned hotel. Or at least it was a hotel in its most recent life.

Jamie chews on another almond as I pull the dolly to a stop.

Seven stories high, The Belmont is legendary around here, which is saying a lot considering Boston's full of ghost stories—the Lady in Black, and the mysterious tunnels on the north side, the Omni Parker house. The Belmont holds its standing with the others.

First, it was an orphanage. Then as a gentlemen's club. After that, it opened as The Belmont Hotel, known for swanky, star-studded parties. Until thirty years ago, after the owner's son, Andrew Stanley, was arrested for murdering two guests and storing their bodies in the basement freezer.

It's one of those places that curls your stomach when you walk by. I always hold my breath, the black gates seeming ominous, the only division between real life and something darker. Something that raises chills in the deepest part of my brain.

The gothic style only makes it creepier—the dirty sandstone facade, the half boarded windows. Faded graffiti peeks out from underneath the vines that cover half of the building.

It's creepy as fuck.

And we're going in there.

I don't even know how Jamie was able to get permission. He's been working on it for over a year. It's taken him a shitload of time on the phone, and a million waivers we all had to sign. Although I suppose Reed's slipping in without signing any.

Regardless, Jamie only got lucky because it's set to be demolished a handful of weeks from now to build a new block of condos, so someone finally took pity on his incessant effort.

"Hey, Umar's here." Jamie swallows the last of his bite. "Jonas too."

They're crossing the street, heading toward us. I leave the dolly upright and fist bump Umar. His gaze moves quickly past me.

We're all only looking at the building. Even Indy and Reed as they come to a stop a few feet to my right.

"I can't believe we're going to do this," Umar mumbles, black curly hair falling over his forehead. He itches at the scruff on his jaw.

"I can." Jonas laughs, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, not seeming like he's ready to move from his spot. "Just waiting for Verity and Lucía?"

Jamie nods, shoving his packet of almonds back into his backpack. He only ate four of them. "Yep. Although I'd like to get going before the sun sets fully."

To our west, the sun's lower now, leaving the buildings in silhouettes and streaks of orange across the sidewalk.

Indy lifts her phone. "They're just around the corner."

"Good," Jamie says.

We fall silent again.

Silence is not a normal characteristic of this group. If anything, we often have the opposite problem. But in the shadow of The Belmont, words slip away. A flutter of a breeze rustles through the magnolia blooms, and I shiver.

My heart rate picks up, my stomach tightening. I shift one foot forward, crunching on a leaf with the toe of my shoe. Indy steps to the side, typing on her phone.

Reed's staring at the building too. He's still holding the box Jamie had him carry, tall enough to look over the top of the fence. His eyes trace everything carefully, his lips pressed thoughtfully, a flicker of tension running along his arched jaw.

"Are you second guessing your decision to follow a bunch of people into an abandoned murder hotel at the cusp of dusk?"

His jaw ticks, the brim of his hat shadowing his face as he glances over at me. "Aren't you?"

My lips lift. "On multiple levels."

"It helps with nerves." His eyes move coolly around my face. "Take a few breaths."

He's just fucking looking at me with that disinterested expression. And I don't know. I don't fucking understand this guy.

A shout echoes across the street, and Verity and Lucía are heading toward us. Verity's bright orange tennis shoes practically glow with the sun.

Everyone's here.

"So I guess it's time," I say quietly, but Jamie must be listening because he nods.

"Yep."

He steps up to the gate, digging out the keys.

Earlier today, when he got access, he was handed a chaotic stack of keys, some tagged with locations, some unmarked. Who knows if we have them all, if the locks are even working, or if they've rusted out. The gate padlock is the only newer key.

Jamie clicks it open, then pushes on the gate. It resists at first and then gives way in an elongated squeal as the hinges open.

I hear gasps all around me.

Holy fuck, my heart's already thumping. A breeze tickles the back of my neck, and my shoulders stiffen.

Jamie starts inside.

I grip onto the handle of the cart and pull it behind me, following Jamie through the gate, Reed behind me, Indy and the others behind him.

There's a small courtyard area, the main entryway to the hotel is a double door that's inset about twenty feet, with overgrown flower beds on either side of the walkway. A few roses still push through the weeds and overgrowth, the light becoming shallower as we walk in, hidden from any last light from the sun.

Jamie pulls out his phone and clicks on his flashlight. I do the same, and more phone flashlights click on behind me, making circles on the pathway and garden beds.

Old yellowed papers stick to the walkway under our feet—they look like pages torn from a book. An abandoned television sits propped up against the sandstone facade, the old boxy kind, the torn remnants of a black plastic bag caught around the edge. A cluster of broken glass—from the windows or maybe something else—wink in our flashlights. Jamie kicks glass to the side, and it clinks against the cement.

Every sound is amplified. Every brush of breeze is sensitive against my skin. And we're not even inside yet.

Jamie climbs up the three steps to the door, and sorts through the keys, Willis pulled down low over his ears. I stop the dolly at the bottom of the steps, looking up past him to the dark windows, some broken, some bordered, others with paint-chipped frames.

"Holy Toledo ," Verity breathes as she stops next to me, her head tilted back, her cropped hair an emerald green. "What did we get ourselves into?"

I'm starting to wonder that too.

This seemed like a fantastic idea when Jamie first brought it up, more than a year ago, while playing a game of Boggle at Randy's. All those bright diner lights, laughter from the table next to us, his face all lit with possibility. And of course I was all fucking in.

That's what I do when it comes to Jamie.

But now? Who was stupid enough to let us in here?

My heart is pounding, so loud that it almost overrides the sound of the deadbolt as Jamie thunks it open. He twists the handle and pushes it open.

A flutter of light moves over his head, a whisper of sounds.

Holy fuck .

I crouch, hands covering my head, the flap of the wings so close that it nearly brushes my hair.

"Was that a fucking bat ?" Verity's crouched next to me, hands on her head, eyes wide as she tries to track it.

It flits around the courtyard, dancing in the shadows.

"Ohhhh no." Umar is shaking his head, backstepping toward the gate. "No. I don't do bats. Not at all. Anything but bats."

"I think it's just the one." Jamie pushes the door open another inch, and Umar curses.

But nothing else comes out. There's just a black void behind the door.

"Is that it?" Indy asks, squinting up at the bat as it flutters, far over her head now, likely searching for bugs in the courtyard.

It's… pretty. Almost elegant. The way it moves gracefully, a shadow against a deepening maroon sky.

"We'll look for more," I say, tearing my eyes off the bat's flight. "Some of us can go in first. Take a look at the entryway. Rule out any more bats."

Umar's shoulders scrunch by his ears. "They live in groups, right?"

Reed clears his throat. "Some do. Others are solitary. Although most of the bats around here are communal."

Random bat knowledge. Interesting.

Reed's attention flips to me. "I'll go in first."

He seems so steady, so sure, staring across at me with those cool brown eyes. Not a crack of emotion moves across his face.

I lick my lips, my anxiety hanging right there. "I'll go with you."

Shit. Did I really just offer that?

I look down at my shoes, my toes curling in my Vans, the rise of the first step an inch away. I leave the dolly and take the steps up to where Jamie is still by the door.

He glances over at me. "I'm going, too."

I smile a little. "I know."

His gaze moves past me toward where Reed must be climbing the steps. I don't look. I don't have to.

I fucking feel him. Standing there on the other side of me, that wash of cold across the back of my shoulders, the tickle of hair rising on my neck.

How does he do that to me? Even with this building in front of me, with Jamie's hand reaching out to push the door all the way open, with the depth of darkness inside, not having a single fucking clue as to what we're going to find. Even though I've known him less than an hour—I still feel it. Him standing there on the far side of me, inches away, the scent of a musk and cotton, the rise of him as he climbs the steps.

Fuck, he's tall. I suppose that's a water polo thing. Height. Long limbs. That fluid stroll, almost like he's swimming when he walks.

And now we're going to walk into an abandoned and possibly bat-infested building together.

"Are you ready?" Jamie whispers. I glance back, and Indy wishes us luck. Lucía and Umar are talking about the bat. Verity and Jonas watch us.

"I guess." I raise my phone flashlight toward the black space through the door. I'm not really feeling ready, but I don't want to stand out here much longer either. The longer we're here, the darker it's getting.

And we've still got a lot of work to get done tonight. Three weeks to film is a tight schedule. And we don't fully know what complications we're going to encounter. It could be anything.

So, we need to go. We need to do this.

"I'll go first," Jamie says. "This was my idea."

I step up next to him. "Right here with you."

The smell hits me first.

It's densely musty and sits thick in my throat as my phone flashlight darts around the entryway. I thought it would be worse, though. The broken windows must be enough to keep some amount of air moving. Besides, the bat, and whatever else might live in here, had to get in somehow.

I slip through the door immediately after Jamie, the hard press of a marble floor against the soles of my shoes, my flashing bouncing immediately upward. An old chandelier, one with all those little prisms, hangs above our heads, spider webs dripping between the crystals, a coffered ceiling above that.

No bats.

Not that I can see, at least.

Our three beams bounce around the entryway. The black marble floors, cut with white veins, lead back to a long reception desk with what looks like some treatment for the wall beyond crumpled over the top of it. A gold lamp leans precariously against the other edge, like it might fall at any moment. More pages are strewn around with pieces of splintered wood and a discarded picture frame.

It calls up every image in my brain of "abandoned". Derelict, neglected, left to decay.

"It's perfect," Jamie whispers, his voice seeming loud, his shoe squeaking as he takes another step forward. Reed is on my left, his flashlight moving steadily, scanning in an orderly fashion while both Jamie and my beams bounce around.

"It looks like a horror movie," I breathe out. "Fuck, we're the kids running into the murder hotel with meathooks hanging in the windows, thinking that we're actually going to survive this experience."

"Sounds fun." Jamie laughs, the sound echoing, and a shiver rolls over my shoulders again.

I glance to my right, where Reed is stepping farther into the entryway, over a long piece of wood in his path. He moves slowly, steadily, toward the center of the room, where he stops and turns back to us, his light crossing over the top of our heads. "Do you see that stained glass?"

I twist to look up, his beam of light playing over the dark stained glass, rising to the apex of the roof. It's a cutout of the sky, moon and stars, the last of the sunlight winking through, lighting the yellow stars against a cobalt background.

A hush falls as we all stare up at the glass. Voices of the others come from outside, but inside feels like a completely different world. Macabre.

"We need to get the others." Jamie nods at the door behind me. "See if Umar's still wanting to go ahead. And then get set up. We've only got so many hours."

"I'll talk to Umar," I say. "And then get set up. Still in the library?"

Jamie nods. "You know where you're going?"

"All in my head."

Jamie and I spent three solid days at the library researching this hotel. The history, the urban legends, everything we could find. We combed through newspaper articles, through county records and taxes, through building permits that had the structural plans and blueprints.

We're ready for this.

I think.

Although, I'm also feeling really fucking unprepared as I let my flashlight sweep the room again, over Reed as he strolls back toward me, those long legs eating up the earth. The shadows play across his face, the sharpness of his jaw. I flick my light away, uneasy as hell as he moves past me, out the door.

Why am I looking at him?

And the bigger question: what the fuck have we gotten ourselves into with filming here?

I don't know the answer to either question. But we're in it now. No turning back.

I step toward the door.

"Lenn?"

"Yeah?" I turn back to my brother.

"Take Reed with you when you go to the library."

Shit. Really?

"I'll be fine," I say.

Jamie tugs off Willis, itching at his dark hair. "It was your idea."

"What? No. I didn't even know that?—"

"You said we should stay in pairs."

Oh fuck.

That was my idea.

Although, clearly, I had no concept of Reed when I said that.

"I'm not worried about it," I say.

Jamie shifts his backpack to his other shoulder. "Well, I am. Look at this place, Lenn. It's unpredictable. We shouldn't be wandering off alone. Besides, it's rule number three."

I groan.

It is rule three.

In the rules of how to survive a horror movie, "don't wander off alone" is right up there with "don't have sex" and "don't assume the killer is dead."

I look at my brother, his expression earnest.

He's asking something from me.

And so I nod. "Yeah, of course. No problem."