Page 81 of Savored Sins
Four months later…
Zeke holds the door for me, and I step inside the wine bar. As I glance around, eyes peeled for the filming crew, I give Zeke a once-over—just to make sure he’s decent. His blond hair is so messy it’s painfully obvious that someone—ahem,me—has been running their fingers through it, but at least his fly is zipped. And we’re not technicallylate. It’s seven on the dot.
“Yo! Ryan, myman,” Zeke calls, spotting someone from the crew on the far side of the bar.
A lanky guy in glasses and gelled up hair glances up from the camera he’s setting up, gives us a wave. “About time, dude. We’re almost all set up, but Jules wants to do a mic test.”
He waves at me, too, then steps forward to shake my hand. “Oh, hey! You must be Autumn. Nice to meet you, I’m Ryan.”
“That’s me,” I say with a nervous smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”
It's my first time on the set ofGhosted, Zeke’s new late night, adults-only SyFy show, and I’m kind of in awe. Even though the crew is small and the set-up minimal, SyFy’s already been teasing insider clips on their social channels and people are going insane. I’m sure part of what they’re going nuts over is Zeke, and hey—I can’t blame them. He’s magnetic.
And lucky me, I get to shoot an episode with him tonight. While Zeke is obviously the star of the show, each episode features a different guest, someone who comes along with Zeke to investigate whatever location is on the books for that night. Some guy named Jaxon Slade, another podcaster Zeke insisted on, was in the first episode they shot, and Benji and Phoebe have both been on. Will said flat-out no, but I’m pretty sure he’ll come around eventually, once he pulls his underwear out of his ass.
Me, on the other hand? I jumped at the chance, even though I’m a little nervous. Production said they loved our chemistry in the pilot, and they thought viewers would for sure tune in to see Zeke and me interacting again—even if out of pure jealousy. Hey, views are views. I don’t make the rules.
“No problem,” Zeke says to Ryan. He runs a hand loosely through his hair, flashing a grin. “And sorry we didn’t get here earlier—Autumn wanted a snack. I was the snack.”
“Babe!” I gasp, laughing. Ryan just snorts, his mouth twitching as he tries to keep from laughing. It’s clearly not this dude’s first time hearing my boyfriend say shit like this.
“He’s used to it,” Zeke says. That wicked smile of his lights up his face. “This dude wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
“True story,” Ryan says, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Let’s get that sound check done, and you can make sure the grid’s how you want it. You sensing anything yet?”
Zeke raises a brow. “Bro. How can you not?”
Ryan and I just look at each other. Zeke told me that Ryan, the lead cinematographer, and the rest of the crew are allnormies like me. And as far as I’m concerned, we’re all standing around in a perfectly normal little wine bar in Sheffield—but apparently that’s not quite the case.
“God. That issoweird,” Zeke mutters, shaking his head. “There’s got to be, like, three or four different spirits here, but one of them is whispering so fucking loud I can barely focus. She’s basically hissing in my goddamn ear.”
“At least we know we’ll get some good footage,” Ryan says.
We follow Ryan down a dark, rustic staircase leading to the basement where most of the filming’s actually going to take place. As Ryan, Jules, and a lighting assistant named Devon get Zeke and me hooked up with mics, testing the sound and how the current lighting looks on camera, I glance around at our dim surroundings.
This building dates back to the late 1800s, and during prohibition the downstairs served as a speakeasy. Nowadays, it’s just the storage area for the wine bar upstairs, but quite a few employees and nosy patrons have reported cold spots and a general feeling of unease.
And that’s all I know of the story. For once in his life, Zeke’s been pretty tight-lipped, even though I know he and the crew have been doing their research. But since the whole premise of the show is to give posthumous closure to spirits who were—ahem—ghostedin life, the lore around this place undoubtedly has something to do with an unfinished love affair. I guess that’s what we’re about to find out. Directly from the ghosts themselves.
“Okay,” Ryan says, guiding us back upstairs. When we reach the bar again, he claps his hands together. “Thermal imaging cam’s ready to go. Static cam’s set up. Shotgun mic’s good. Zeke, Autumn, we’ll start off outside, get a shot of you guys coming in the front door. Zeke will give us the background on the place, start setting up context for who or what we might be makingcontact with. And feel free to talk to each other during—we want things as candid as possible.”
Ryan hoists a camera onto his shoulder and we all traipse outside. I’m pleasantly shocked by how informal this all is—the tiny crew, the joking around, the limited equipment. It isn’t how I imagined it, but I kind of like it. It’s like another little family Zeke’s got here. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts, because I’ve got a feeling once the season airs, the show’s going to blow up and Season 2 will be boasting a much heftier budget, a much larger crew.
Zeke and I sit down on the steps in front of the bar, and Ryan counts us down. By the time he says “rolling”, there’s a palpable shift in Zeke’s energy. He jumps into character immediately—a character which is one hundred percent still him, only more so. He’s larger than life. The host ofGhostedis pure, unfiltered, unbridled Zeke Holloway.
“They say love never dies,” Zeke says into the camera, flashing a sexy grin and holding some invisible viewer’s gaze. “And they may be right. I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been in love once—with this chick here—and neither of us are dead yet. So I let the ghosts tell you themselves. I let ‘em say whatever they want. Hell, I let ‘emdowhatever they want.”
“Cut!” Ryan lowers the camera slightly. “Did we script that? That last part?”
“Bro, we didn’t scriptanyof it,” Zeke laughs.
“Okay. Um… Can you try that again, only less, like, horny? You’re basically eye-fucking the camera right now—which is fine, it’s hot. But we don’t want people changing the channel to jack off.”
Zeke rolls his eyes, giving an exaggerated groan. But he starts again, his introduction a little different this time around. He’s clearly making this up as he goes, which is pretty damn impressive.
“…so I let the ghosts tell you themselves. I’m their messenger, bringing you the stories they never got to tell. For example, there’s a sweet young lady sitting next to Autumn right now, baring her teeth, clearly weighing the pros and cons of pushing her down these steps so she herself will have a chance to be with me. Honey—with all due respect—you’re cute, but it’s never gonna happen. I’m taken. Let’s take that energy and focus it on getting to the bottom of what happened to you.”
I whirl around to my other side, feeling wildly through the air. I can hear Ryan as he gasps behind the camera. Jules gives a shaky laugh.
