Chapter 1

Renfew Morgan III sat in the cafeteria. He was a slightly-built junior with well cropped, dark hair. Beside him sat his pal Stuart, overweight and with heavy-lidded, indolent eyes. "So," Stuart asked, "How did your summer go?"

"Well ... my Dad paid me to spend a month at the camp at the lake. I met a local girl from Saranac and we..."

"Your dad paid you to screw a local?"

"He paid me to get the cabin in shape so he could put it on the market," Ren replied. "I spent a month cleaning and painting the place."

"But, your Saranac honey..."

"Oh -- she was just for fun. When I got home from the cabin I just kinda hung around ... hooked up with some girls I knew in high school."

"Must be nice -- having all that money."

"It's not like it once was," Ren replied. "Since the economy went south we haven't had what we did. I'm here on scholarships and loans, you know. I think the reason Dad wants to sell the camp is to raise some funds. Besides -- it hasn't been the same since my mom died."

"I guess ... What about Amanda?"

"We split," Ren replied.

"You two were hot and heavy last year."

"Yeah ... She broke it to me right before the end of last semester. She had to transfer to a school closer to home to be with her mom. It's okay, Stimpy -- she was just for fun."

Stuart shook his head. "Just for fun, hey. So now you gotta play the field again."

"Meh ... Same old same old," Ren replied. "Same girls as last year except they put on their sophomore ten."

"Yeah -- on top of their freshman ten."

"You should talk, pud boy."

"There's a new crop of freshmen girls," Stuart remarked.

Ren turned up his lip. "They don't interest me -- to much high school in 'em. I like a woman who's seasoned."

"Ren -- I wish I had your easy way with women. How many dates does it take you?"

"Before I score?"

"Yeah -- before you score."

Ren rolled his eyes in thought. "I usually can score on the fourth date or before ... provided she isn't gay or engaged or something. Yeah ... usually by the fourth date."

"Fourth date? What's your secret?"

"My secret?" Ren rolled his eyes again. "Being real -- not weirding her out. The important thing is not to let her think there's an agenda. Women hate an agenda..."

"But -- there always IS an agenda ... isn't there?"

"Yeah but she has to be able to think there isn't. For example -- I never try to kiss a girl on the first date."

"Never?"

"Never. Of course -- if she wants to kiss me, I won't refuse."

"Yeah -- who wouldn't refuse!" Stuart chuckled.

"By holding off, you make them take the lead ... after all, how can she chase you if you don't back away?"

"Right ... back away ... God, Ren -- I wish I had your self-confidence."

"It's nothing, Stimpy. It just takes practice."

Stuart sipped his soda. "You think you can score with any girl by the fourth date?"

"Unless she's taken or gay -- yes, I think I can."

"Ren -- you know that hundred you owe me from last term?"

"I thought I paid you off."

"No, you cheap sumbitch. You still owe me. How about a chance to cancel the debt?"

"What are you suggesting?" Ren asked.

"A little wager," Stuart replied. "You go on four dates with some random girl and if you're laid by then I'll forget the hundred bucks. If not -- you owe me two hundred. Deal?"

"Four dates with whom?" Ren asked.

"My pick. Deal?"

Ren shook his head. "I'm not shaking on this 'til I see the girl. And -- if she's gay or taken..."

"Then I pick another girl."

"So -- what girl, Stimpy?" Stuart glanced across the dining hall. His sightline fell upon a young woman setting down her tray. Her brown hair was cut in a not-quite-shoulder-length shaggy bob and she wore glasses. Ren watched her slip a Kindle from her backpack and poke at it. "Oh, come on -- I have my standards."

"She's new here," Stuart replied, "and she's in one of my classes. What's the matter with her?"

"Her hair looks like it was cut with a weed whacker. She's weak-chinned and strong-nosed. I think her upper lip is too short -- she can't keep her mouth closed; and girl -- if you're going to show your teeth like that -- get thee to an orthodontist."

"I don't think she's bad-looking, Ren. I'd hit her."

Ren regarded her again. "Yeah ... Looks like she has a decent bod. Sometimes the plain ones can fool you. Remember Mary-Ann?"

"From freshman year?"

"Yeah ... Her face is about a four and a half but in the sack she's ten-plus."

Stuart nodded in her direction. "I'd say she's at least a six."

Ren shook his head. "Five, tops."

"She gets a point or two for a decent bod," Stuart remarked. "Six plus."

"Five in my book. If you like her, come with me and I'll introduce you. You can ask her out."

"No way, Ren."

"Why not?" Ren asked. "What are you afraid of?"

"That I'll get shot down. When I'm with a girl I turn all stupid."

"You just need some practice. Why not practice on her?"

"No, I'm too shy. Besides if she shot me down I'd still see her in class every day and that would be awkward."

"You gotta get into circulation, Stimpy. Dating begets more dating."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because chicks talk to each other." Ren glanced toward her table. "She's not my type."

"Look, Ren -- you rather pay back the hundred? Do I hafta put the strong arm on you?"

"All right -- it's a deal." Ren extended his hand and shook Stuart's. The he slouched down and regarded her from across the cafeteria.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Trying to figure the best way to approach a chick like her. In a situation like this I gotta make a big impression." He pondered a moment. "I think I got it."

He picked up his tray, dumped its contents into a trash barrel. Ren headed for her table and approached her from behind. She had removed her glasses and was absorbed in her reading.

Ren gave her a not-too-gentle punch to her upper arm. "Hey, Becky," he said, "what the hell are you doing here? I thought you transferred..."

Startled, she spun around, her jaw dropped.

"Holy, shit," Ren said. "I'm really, really sorry -- from over there you looked like someone I know."

She put her hand on her arm and rubbed it. "Maybe it's time to get your eyes examined," she replied tartly.

"Gee, I hope I didn't hurt you. I'm really sorry." He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. "I've never done anything like that before. Do you want me to get some ice?"

"No, thanks." she replied. "I'll survive."

"No need for hospitalization, then?"

She smiled. "No. No need for that."

"Good -- that's a relief. By the way -- I'm Ren."

"Wren as in a bird?" she asked.

"No -- short for Renfew. Renfew Morgan."

"Like the guy in Dracula?" she asked.

"No, that was Renfield, I think." He shook his head. "I still can't believe I mistook you for Becky. I was finishing lunch with my friend and I said, look, there's Becky. I gotta say hi to her. Now I feel like an idiot."

She glanced across the room. "That's your friend? I think recognize him. He's in my lit class."

"Stimpy's in your class?"

"His name is Stimpy?"

"His name is Stuart," Ren explained. "He and I have been buddies since freshman year. My roommate Mitch gave him that nickname ... from the cartoon show ... Ren and Stimpy ... get it?"

She nodded. "I've heard of it but I've never seen it."

"I'm Ren and I'm kinda wiry and he's Stimpy 'cuz he's kinda chunky. The name stuck. Now nearly everyone in our circle calls him Stimpy."

"Well, Ren -- it's nice to meet someone with a more unusual name than mine. I'm Scarlet."

"As in Johanssen?"

"I wish. No -- with only one T. Scarlet Quinlan."

"Scarlet. I like the name. It is kinda unusual ... unique. Are you new here?"

"Yes -- I transferred in from WCC."

"I didn't think I'd seen you around. WCC?"

"Wilson Community College. I have an Associate's degree and I'm here for my B.A."

"What's your major?" he asked.

"Education."

"I'm in Business Admin," Ren replied. "It seems to be the major that soaks up the engineers and scientists who wash out. I short-circuited the process and started in it, so if I wash out I have no safety net." Ren made deep eye contact with her. "So -- do live on campus or off?"

"On -- in Lawler hall."

"That's the old dorm, must've been built in the thirties."

"Yeah -- no air conditioning."

"We don't really need it in this town most of the time. I'm in the dorms, too. Off-campus housing in this town sucks."

"So I've heard."

"How did your roommate work out?"

She drank from a carton of chocolate milk. "I don't have a roommate."

"You're in a single? I didn't think there were singles in Lawler."

"I'm paying a double's rate," she replied. "They couldn't find a roomie for me. No one's eager to apply to Lawler so I guess it's just overflow."

"Do you know why?"

"It's old and dirty," she replied. "But there's another reason. One of the girls told me the rumors that the place is haunted. She told me that, back in the fifties some girl got pregnant. Her boyfriend ditched her so she attempted a coat-hanger abortion on herself." Ren winced. "Her roommate found her, bled to death, in my very room."

"You're in the same room?"

"That's right."

Ren shuddered. "Doesn't it give you the creeps?"

"It's a tragic story," she replied, "but it happened over fifty years ago."

"Heard any funny noises or felt any sudden cold drafts?" Ren asked.

Scarlet shook her head. "No. I don't believe in ghosts or the paranormal or any of that silly stuff. Do you believe in ghosts, Ren?"

"I believe there's a lot of stuff out there that can't be explained."

"Well, I believe what I see with my own eyes and hear with my own ears."

"Good policy ... until something goes bump in the night." Ren looked at his watch. "I gotta go or I'll be late for class. You interested in trading phone numbers?"

She glanced upward and shrugged. "Why not?"

Ren took his phone from his pocket. Scarlet recited her number and he punched it in. He turned his phone to her. "Here's mine."

She copied the number into her phone.

"See you around, Scarlet," he said and headed toward Stuart. He made a hand signal and headed toward the door.

Stuart caught up with him. "So, that's how you make a good impression? By slugging her?"

"I didn't say a good impression -- I said a big impression."

"Did it work?"

"I think so."

"Well? How'd it go?"

"Her name is Scarlet ... with only one T."

"Scarlet?"

"Yep. You're right -- she's not bad looking. She's no Nicole Kidman, though, for sure. She's interested."