CHAPTER 4 The Manipulator ey" our grandma was a freak,” Daya announces before proceeding to hold up old, dusty lingerie. I balk, perturbed by the sight in front of me. My idiot friend is holding the sides of the lacy underwear and flapping her tongue provocatively. Or what’s supposed to be provocative. I’m far more disturbed than anything right about now. “Please, stop.” She rolls her eyes to the back of her head dramatically, mimicking an orgasm, which ends up looking more like an exorcism to me. “You’re being entirely inappropriate right now. What if my Nana can see you?” That sets her straight. The panties drop, and so does her expression. “You think she’s a ghost?” she asks, her wide eyes searching the house like an apparition of Nana is about to play peek-a-boo with her. I roll my eyes. Nana probably would if she could, too. “Nana loved this house. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed.” I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. “I’ve seen apparitions, and a lot of unexplainable shit happen.” “You really know how to sober a bitch up, you know that?” she complains, throwing the lingerie in the trash bin a tad aggressively. I smile, pleased by her assessment. Whatever gets her to stop waving my grandmother’s crusty underwear in my face. “T’ll go make us another drink,” I placate, heaving up a massive trash bag and hefting it over my shoulder. I’m not proud of the huff of breath that shoots from my lungs or the immediate sweat I break out into. I really need to stop drinking and work out more. I'll make it a new year’s resolution. It’s pretty much a given that I'll try for a week and give up, promising to try again next year. It happens every time. “Make it extra strong. I’m going to need it now that I feel like there are demons watching me.” I roll my eyes again. “Just do a little striptease. That’ll scare ‘em away,” I deadpan. A whoosh of air next to my ear sends my hair dancing, and a second later, a roll of duct tape hits