The Ghost Exterminator by Vivi Andrews

his life not caring. Desperation could do that to a man. “Fix it. Please .”
    “Did you try nail polish remover?” At his defeated groan, her expressionless mask melted as sympathy filled her eyes. “It’s been a daunting twenty-four hours for you, hasn’t it?”
    “Fifteen hours,” Wyatt growled, knowing he sounded like an ungrateful prick and having a hard time caring when the alternative was accepting her pity. Wyatt Haines was not a man to be pitied. “I’ll be fine as soon as you fix this.”
    The sympathy evaporated from her face—thank God—and her mouth tightened into a bow as she glared at him. “It might not be that easy.”
    “It is that easy. It has to be that easy,” Wyatt insisted, hearing desperation creep into his voice. “You said my stomach was haunted and you un-haunt things. Un-haunt my stomach.”
    “Well, first of all, they aren’t in your stomach anymore. And secondly, haunted people are a little different than haunted houses.”
    “Where are they? My brain?” Wyatt groaned and closed his eyes. “I’m possessed, aren’t I?”
    Jo slammed her fist on his desk. He opened his eyes at the bang to find her glaring at him. “What is it with you and demons? You aren’t possessed. Your house isn’t possessed. No demons . Get it?”
    “But you said…”
    “I said haunted people are different. Frankly, I’ve never seen a ghost inhabit the body of anyone who wasn’t a very strong medium. There has to be a powerful supernatural link between the host and the spirit or it just doesn’t work. It’s like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost .”
    He winced. “Please don’t tell me that movie is a documentary.”
    Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You’re a prick, you know that? I was trying to explain this to you in a way you would understand and you have to be an ass. Of course, it isn’t a documentary. Whoopi Goldberg is an actress , not a medium. She isn’t a nun, either, in case you were confused by Sister Act .”
    “Never saw it.”
    “You have no culture, you know that?”
    “Whoopi Goldberg is culture?”
    “Movies. Life outside of profit margins. That’s culture. I’m amazed the ghosts bothered to haunt you. I bet if I left you alone they’d get so bored hanging out in you they’d leave on their own within a week.”
    “Because I won’t take them to see Sister Act .”
    “Oh, shut up.” She dropped back into the chair and crossed her arms across her chest. “I need to get back into the house. You need to give me permission.”
    “You can’t just take the ghosts out here?”
    She tipped her head to the side and Wyatt could see her considering whether or not to lie to him. The devil of it was, he couldn’t tell which way she had decided when she finally sighed and opened her mouth. “How much did you see last night?”
    Wyatt frowned. “How much did I see? I didn’t see anything. You went into the kitchen then you tensed up and sort of stumbled back and forth like things were pulling on you. Then you fell and there was an earthquake—not that the two were related, but it was a pretty nice bonus at the end of the show.”
    Jo was up out of the chair so quickly it looked like she had been launched. She slammed her fists onto her hips and leaned across the desk aggressively. “ Show ? Did I just hear that? Are you implying— still implying—that I’m a phony? How do you explain the moustache then, huh, Mussolini?”
    He raised a hand defensively to cover his upper lip. “I thought it was more Marx than Mussolini. Did Mussolini even have a moustache?”
    “Mussolini, Marx, Stalin, whatever. You look fascist. Was that your goal or are you willing to admit there might be something supernatural at work here?”
    Wyatt froze. She had to ask him straight out, didn’t she? He couldn’t just go on humoring her belief in the unbelievable. Not if he wanted her help, at any rate. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words. It would be too much like joining her