Page 58 of King of Hollywood

“Then stop inviting them over,” I huffed—totally not biased or anything at all.

“I wish it were that simple,” Felix’s eyes danced. “I need them, so that I can see you.”

Well, that made no sense.

“Why?”

Felix mimed zipping his lips shut, and I sighed, frustrated. Another secret to add to the ever-growing pile. “What about your family?” I asked, thinking about that Christmas he’d been all alone. “Your actual friends?”

I suppose I could allow him to have his paramours for now. At least…until I was ready to fill in the gaps they left behind. If he needed them to spend time with me, then I would let him have them.

Though that wouldn’t stop me from imagining running them over with my car.

“Everyone I’ve ever cared for is dead,” he said simply, like that wasn’t a horribly depressing thing to say.

“My mother is dead,” I told him, in an attempt to relate. “My sister too.”

“Do you miss them?” Felix blinked, shaking his head a little to clear it, his eyes centered in the present once again as he turned to look at me.

This felt like a trick question.

I should probably say yes.

Instead, I settled for the truth. “Sometimes.” I shrugged. “When I remember them.” I remembered Alberta most, once a year on her birthday. After the first time I’d enacted my ritual, it had stopped being the worst time of year, and quickly became my favorite part of it. I’d right the wrongs committed against her, and until it rolled around again the following spring, I’d feel the itch beneath my skin settle.

Right after their deaths, I’d thought of them more often. But as the years passed, the instances I recalled of them grew farther and farther apart. Sometimes I could go days or weeks without thinking of either of them at all.

And sometimes—like lately, I thought about them often.

Felix tipped his head to the side, watching me curiously, so I added, “Mostly I miss my mother’s pie,” in an attempt to make him laugh again.

He snorted, face scrunching up with delight as he shook his head. “Gosh, that must’ve been a swell pie.”

“It was.”

“What kind?”

“Rhubarb.”

“Rhubarb?” Felix snorted again, fingers tapping a happy dance on the table as he shook his head. “You look exactly like the kind of person who likes rhubarb.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, mock offended. “First I’m an old cartoon man, and now I look like I like rhubarb.”

Felix grinned. “It means whatever you think it means.”

“An insult then. And here I was, about to tell you that the next time you felt lonely I’d come over,” I scoffed, surprised to find how fun it was to play with him this way. Like our beasts were circling one another. “Offer rescinded.”

“The offer you didn’t make?”

“Exactly.”

Felix’s grin never fell. He leaned against the table, almost like he was trying to get closer to me, despite the wood barrier between us.

“Would you like to know my most closely guarded secret?” Felix asked out of the blue, his eyes still dancing. Immediately I nodded, my heart skipping a beat. He took a fortifying breath. “When I’m with you, I’m not lonely,” he said softly, lips twisting up. “I don’t feel like a ghost.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, but it was a nice statement all the same. It was comforting to know that I was not lumped in with the other people he had over, but special. Separate. The cream of the crop. The only one that offered him true companionship.

“I should be here all the time then, shouldn’t I?” My pulse raced, my hands sweaty as I waited for his answer. “So that you don’t feel that way.”