It had been nine days since Markus White woke up in Charlie Harper's body. Nine days since he cheated death, gained a Malibu beach house, and narrowly survived Rose's death grip. And in all that time, something bizarre had happened.
He had… cleaned up his act.
No late-night benders. No back-to-back women. No throwing up in the kitchen sink because the bathroom was "too far." Markus wasn't trying to be a saint; he just had a plan. Why blow through life drunk when you could enjoy the perks sober? Besides, he didn't want to die again choking on his own laughter. Once was enough.
But now, Berta was onto him.
She stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, watching him with narrowed eyes like a prison guard trying to figure out how an inmate tunneled out. Markus sat at the kitchen island, sipping coffee like a responsible adult. The only thing on the counter was a half-eaten bagel and an orange.
An orange.
Berta stared at it like it was evidence from a murder scene.
"Alright," she finally said, crossing her arms. "Spill it."
Charlie blinked. "Spill what?"
"You know damn well what," she snapped. "It's been nine days. No women sneaking out in last night's clothes. No bedsheets that could walk to the laundry on their own. No booze bottles stacked so high I gotta call a contractor just to get to the trash. Hell, I ain't even had to use bleach on the toilet once this week."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I'm… sorry?"
"Oh, don't apologize. I'm enjoying it," Berta said with a smirk. "I just wanna know who the hell you are and what you did with Charlie Harper."
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just trying something new."
She snorted. "New? Charlie, the only 'new' thing you ever tried was a 21-year-old yoga instructor who called you 'Daddy' by accident. And even then, you were drunk enough to roll with it."
Charlie nearly choked on his coffee. "Okay, wow. We're really doing this."
"Oh, we're doing this," Berta said, leaning on the counter. "What's going on with you? You sick? Dying? Gay? 'Cause I don't care, but I need a heads-up if I'm gonna walk in on something that'll make me bleach my eyeballs."
"No! I'm not gay!" he said, laughing. "I'm just… taking it easy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Taking it easy? That's like saying a shark is taking it easy by becoming a vegan. You don't 'take it easy.' You drink until you fall down, then drink again when you wake up. What happened? Did you get neutered or something?"
Charlie groaned. "No, I didn't get neutered."
Berta squinted at him. "You sure? 'Cause I could check. I got a pair of barbecue tongs in my truck."
He threw up his hands. "Okay, you know what? Maybe I just realized I'm not 25 anymore. Maybe I'm trying to be a little healthier."
Berta let out a wheezy laugh. "Healthier? Oh, please. You've had so much alcohol in your system that the Red Cross won't take your blood in case it gets minors drunk."
Charlie sighed. "Can't a guy just mature a little?"
"Not you," Berta said flatly. "You mature like a block of cheese left in a hot car... you just get smellier."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. I'm turning over a new leaf."
"Oh, I get it," she said, nodding. "Midlife crisis."
"Nope."
"Guilty conscience?"
"No."
"Cocaine?"
Charlie blinked. "What? No!"
Berta shrugged. "Well, something's gotta be going on. I've been working here for years, and in all that time, I ain't never seen you go nine days without a hangover. Nine days without throwing up somewhere that isn't the toilet. Nine days without a woman screaming, 'I can't believe I slept with you!' on the front lawn. Face it, Harper. You're freaking me out."
"I'm sorry for not being a walking biohazard," Charlie said, standing up. "Maybe I just want to enjoy my life."
"Uh-huh." Berta eyed him like he just said he wanted to join a monastery. "Enjoy your life? This ain't enjoying life. This is rehab. I swear to God, if you start quoting Bible verses and offering me pamphlets about Jesus, I'm burning this whole damn house down."
Charlie laughed. "I'm not religious, Berta."
"Well, good. 'Cause I ain't cleaning up after a cult." She paused, then squinted at him. "Or is this about a girl?"
Charlie froze.
Berta's eyes lit up. "Ah-ha! It's a girl!"
"It's not a girl!"
"Oh, it's a girl," she said with a grin. "Who is she? Someone special? Or is it Rose again? 'Cause if it is, I got a buddy who works at the zoo. We could probably get her tranquilized."
Charlie shook his head. "It's not Rose."
Berta squinted. "Then who?"
"Nobody!"
"Uh-huh." She walked over, patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic look. "Listen, I get it. Love makes people do crazy things. But if you go another day without drinking, I'm calling an exorcist. Just sayin'."
Charlie sighed. "Thanks, Berta."
"Don't thank me. Just go do something stupid already," she said as she walked off. "I'm getting bored."
As the door closed behind her, Charlie sat back down at the counter, rubbing his temples. Nine days in, and people were already noticing the change. If he kept this up, someone was bound to think he'd been kidnapped.
Maybe it was time to loosen up… just a little.
Or maybe it was time to find a way to survive without ending up drunk in a bathtub.
Either way, he had a feeling the universe wasn't going to let him take it easy for long.
...
After Berta's intervention, he decided to get out of the house. Maybe catch a movie, grab some popcorn and a Coke, and just… exist. No drama. No Rose hanging from his balcony like a lovesick koala. No random blondes trying to steal his wallet or his dignity.
He bought his ticket, stood in the concession line, and for the first time in days, felt normal.
Then it happened.
"Charlie?"
A voice behind him. Soft. Sultry. Familiar.
Charlie's spine stiffened. He turned slowly.
Oh. My. God.
It was Lisa.
Not Denise Richards playing Lisa. No. In this reality… Lisa was Denise Richards.
Young, hot, blonde. Big… personality. Gorgeous face. A figure that could cause traffic accidents. She was standing there in a low-cut top and jeans that probably required a team of engineers to get into.
Charlie's jaw dropped slightly.
"Lisa?" he blurted out.
She smiled. "You remember me! I wasn't sure you would. It's been a while."
Oh, he remembered. Thanks to Charlie's memories, he remembered everything. They had dated for a while. Lived together, even. But like every relationship in Charlie Harper's life, it had ended with him running for the hills because the word "commitment" made him break out in hives.
But Markus — the man inside Charlie — had never dated anyone like Lisa. Hell, in his old life, the closest he got to a woman like this was watching Baywatch reruns.
Charlie blinked a few times, trying to form words. "Uh… yeah. Of course, I remember you."
Her smile widened. God, that smile could melt steel. "Wow. You look… good."
Charlie chuckled nervously. "Yeah? You too. I mean, you look great. Amazing. Like, uh… wow."
Oh, smooth. Real smooth.
Lisa laughed lightly. "Still as charming as ever," she teased.
"Uh… so, you here with someone?" He asked.
Lisa tilted her head, eyeing him curiously. "Actually, no. It was supposed to be a girls' night out, but my friends ditched me for some college party. Apparently, they wanted to 'feel young again.'" She rolled her eyes. "Translation: they're gonna hunt down some poor frat boys and ruin their GPA."
Charlie laughed. "Classy."
She shrugged. "They said I could come, but I don't feel like babysitting a bunch of drunk 20-year-olds tonight."
Charlie smiled. "So… you came to the movies alone?"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."
He hesitated. In Charlie Harper's life, going to the movies alone was like eating salad at a steakhouse... it just didn't happen. But Markus wasn't about to admit he'd been craving popcorn and peace.
"Yeah, I, uh…" He searched for an excuse. "I'm on a… cleanse."
Lisa blinked. "A cleanse?"
"Yeah. No women. No booze. No drama." He said with a smile. "Just me, the movies, and an overpriced bucket of popcorn."
'God, I've missed that smile. Ok, control now.' Lisa smirked. "You? On a cleanse? That's like Hugh Hefner going vegan."
Charlie laughed. "Okay, ouch. But fair." He took a breath, shrugging casually. "Why don't we watch the movie together? You know, just like… regular friends."
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Regular friends? Charlie, the last time we hung out as 'regular friends,' we ended up naked in a hot tub, and you left me with a note that said, 'You're amazing, but I'm allergic to commitment.'"
Charlie winced. "Okay, in my defense… I was drunk. And I have terrible handwriting."
She laughed. "Yeah, that's what I told my therapist."
He smiled sheepishly. "So… friends?"
Lisa sighed, pretending to think about it. "Hmm. I don't know. Can you behave?"
He held up his hands. "Scout's honor."
She squinted. "You were never a scout."
"Well, no. But I wore a uniform once for a girl I was dating who had a… you know what? Never mind."
Lisa laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, Harper. One movie. But if you try anything, I'm supergluing you to your seat."
Charlie chuckled nervously. "You've been talking to Rose, haven't you?"
"Rose, your stalker ex?" Lisa narrowed her eyes. "Why? Should I be?"
"Oh God, no," he blurted. "Forget I said anything."
...
Lisa ordered a diet cola and Charlie ordered Popcorn and 7up. Then they went inside.
...
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