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Holt slowly turned to stare at her. “Excuse me?”

She nodded. “They said it would be better for everyone if all the spirits were hotdog-flavoured. I didn’t know if that was a threat or not, you know? But I obviously told them they couldn’t.”

“Did they stop?” Taylor asked, sounding morbidly curious.

“Only when I promised to keep a bottle of hotdog-infused vodka behind the bar for them.”

“Please tell me that has since been removed from the premises,” Holt said in a strangled voice. “And hopefully destroyed.”

“I think they took it with them when they left,” Harriet said doubtfully. “It was just gone one day.”

“Well, that’s someone else’s problem now,” Holt said hurriedly, waving a hand. “Who else? This is good. Let’s get all this… weird-ass shit out there so we never have to think about it again.”

The next ten minutes was spent with people blurting out the creepy, unsettling and sometimes horrifying encounters they’d had with Frank and Beans over the years.

“They went through a phase of trying to lick my wings all the time,” Kit told us. “Said they believed it would give them the power of flight.”

“I once caught them doing some kind of ritual with a pentagram made of hotdogs.” Tommy looked haunted.

“They stole my fucking head and drew a dick on my cheek,” Dan gritted out.

“There was also the time they stole your head and gave you a bob,” I reminded him solemnly.

On my other side, Corey made a little sound of distress and pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s just unfathomable.”

Almost every single person in the circle had shared at least one horrifying story of Frank and Beans by the time Holt glanced at his watch a while later.

“Okay, let’s wrap it up there for this week. The new talent will be arriving soon.”

“Excellent first session, everyone,” Corey declared, rising from his seat. “We saw some real breakthroughs here today. Some real moments.”

He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist as he looked around the circle, making sure to meet the eyes of every single person.

“Let’s harness that pain. Let’s use it to fuel us. Let’s”—he smacked his fist into his other palm—“become stronger from it. Together. As a family.”

Holt cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. That. Well said, Corey. You should all…” He waved at us vaguely. “Go and do that. The thing Corey said. Thanks, everyone.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Corey the Couples Counsellor

Crossbody

The week crept by at an agonising pace, just like the one before, and with each day that passed, a horrible sense of restless desperation grew stronger and stronger inside me.

At first, in the days after that night at that seedy motel, I’d felt like I was floating around in a languid haze. I’d been at peace, truly, possibly for the first time in my life. Then it had begun to fade as each day passed with nothing from Vince. Not a single word. Barely a glance in my direction.

I knew we’d agreed that it would only happen once and never again. I knew I’d wanted that, at the time, just like him. I knew I should have been glad that he wasn’t constantly needling me at work, snarking at everything I said, throwing jabs and picking fights. But a perverse part of me almost missed it. Missed those moments with him, even if they had made me furious and frustrated at the time.

There was something wrong with me—to miss that. And there was something wrong with me to crave another night with him. I’d got what I wanted. That should have been the end of it. The end of these… confusing feelings for him.

The end of this burning need.

In a weak moment, I’d considered going out and finding someone else to fuck me. A stranger who would be discreet. Who didn’t know me at all. Who wouldn’t have expectations. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

For some horrible reason, Vince Burke had a hold on me, and I found my frustration and anger growing once again because of it. I hated that he had this power over me.

I hated that he wasn’t even doing anything about it.