Trick-or-Treat Cute - Chapter 3

After reluctantly agreeing to go to the party with Jack, Drew went back to his place to cobble together a costume. “I have an idea. And if it’s as stupid as I think it is, it just might end up actually brilliant.”

“What’s your idea?”

Drew looked around for a recycling bin and when he didn’t find one, he put his bottle in the sink. “Oh, hell no, man. If I talk about it, I might talk myself out of it, and then you’re going to have to go to this thing on your own.”

Jack mimed zipping his lips and saw his friend out, then went to make sure every detail of his own costume was perfect. He tried on the white shirt and pin-striped jacket, fearing he’d gained weight since ordering it a couple of years ago, but it fit. Phew. Next, he shucked off his jeans and pulled on the skinny pin-striped pants. Also a go—though maybe he should be careful as he moved to avoid splitting the seat. The gloves, printed to look like skeleton hands, had somehow not gotten separated from the rest of the costume, thank goodness. Finally, the batty tie with its ridiculous wings…and the huge spherical full head skull mask with its enormous, staring eye sockets shrouded in black illusion netting to give the impression that the entire thing was empty. He only had a three-quarter mirror in the bathroom to check everything, but was delighted when the mask settled over his face and Jack Griffiths became Jack Skellington. He gave a giddy twirl, almost collapsing into a small pile of boxes near the shower.

Okay—note to self: the mask was definitely disorienting to wear. No more twirling. But he should probably practice moving around an unfamiliar space in this giant noggin, especially since he could only see forward—and dimly at that.

Good thing he was in an almost entirely unfamiliar space, despite it now being his home.

He made his way into the master bedroom and navigated the large boxes pretty well, but when he tried the guest bedroom, he almost landed on his ass three times due to the mess he’d made there.

Well, hopefully the Pirate Lounge wouldn’t be scattered with random objects designed to trip him up.

He went back into his room and pulled off the mask and gloves long enough to find his own black dress shoes and put them on before reassembling his look. Best to have all possible hazards in play if he was really going to try to get used to this thing. Luckily, after plenty of black-tie events for work in Chicago, his formal shoes weren’t slippery and new.

He made his way downstairs slowly and carefully, gripping the handrail and almost laughing at his own caution. He felt much older than he was, moving this cautiously.

But heck—he was a skeleton, after all. Even if the movie version of his character moved with a grace and lightness that could only come from stop-action animation.

After another half hour of smacking his shins on unseen stuff and nearly tripping more times than he felt comfortable admitting even to himself, his doorbell rang again. Drew, back to be his designated driver to the party. “After a week of packing and moving, you deserve it,” his old friend had said.

He was so ready.

***

Chloe drove as carefully as she could to the Pirate Lounge. She could only imagine what might happen if she got pulled over dolled up as Sally.

Imagine the mug shot! she thought, giggling as she parked. Flipping down the visor mirror, she checked her makeup, rotating her head to one side and the other to make sure she saw everything. She carefully retouched her lipstick, loving the improved Cupid’s bow her brother helped her create. Her eyes looked huge and ethereal, and the stitches appeared genuinely eerie.

She flipped the visor back up and shut her eyes, battling back nerves in the sudden dimness. She could feel the exaggerated false eyelashes resting on her cheeks. Why did this feel so much like walking into a high school dance? She was an actual, entire, grown-ass adult, after all.

“You got this,” she murmured to herself, tucking the lipstick back into the patchwork bag that completed her costume. She got out of the car, slammed the door and took in a deep breath before walking to where a bouncer sat on a stool outside the lounge’s entrance. He gave her costume an appreciative glance and chuckled as he checked her ID and the ticket on her phone.

“Great costume. Have a fun night,” he said, handing back her driver’s license.

“Thanks,” she said in a purposefully breathy voice, giving him a little finger wave as she stretched her mouth into a huge fake smile and batted her eyelashes.

“Okay, now that’s kinda creepy,” the big guy said, shuddering, and she laughed as she stalked through the door and into the darkened interior of the bar. She’d only ever been here for the annual Halloween parties, but it seemed that they’d rearranged the space recently, and it took her a few moments to get her bearings in the dimness. Pale illuminations flitted like ghosts across the walls, and the faces of people in costumes ranged from minimal to mind-boggling. Real jack-o’-lanterns sat spaced on the bar, illuminated by flickering candles that probably were fake.

“Just one drink to get the evening rolling,” she said to herself, not worrying if she was overheard. The DJ was playing “Enter Sandman,” a throwback to be sure, but the growling vocals and driving beat were just right for this otherworldly crowd. The dance floor off to her right was already full of writhing, jiving bodies. She allowed herself one longing glance, then moved purposefully to the bar.

Wait, no. Sally didn’t move purposefully. She skulked or floated.

Well, skulking in this situation was silly. Floating it was. Pushing down the memory of practicing just such details with Jack, she adjusted her gait and arrived at the bar where a werewolf in midtransformation growled, “What can I get you?”

She fluttered her eyelashes, gratified to see him repress a grin beneath the grizzled, patchy fur. Spotting a bar-top menu of specials for the evening, she ordered a Spooky Sangria, delighted to see that, along with the classic fruit, it came with round ice with pomegranate seeds inside resembling eyeballs. Eyeing her makeup, the bartender popped a real, full-bore straw into the tall drink.

“Enjoy, but order an Uber if you’re going to have more than one,” the half-werewolf cautioned.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” she said in Sally’s sweet, breathy voice, batting her eyes again for good measure since he seemed to like that.

“If it leaves your hand, leave it,” he went on. “I can’t watch everyone’s drink at once, and there’s no way of knowing if we have some dirtbags in the crowd tonight either.”

A chill went up Chloe’s spine at that. He was right. Fun was fun, but safety first.

***

When Jack’s front doorbell rang again, he opened the door, ready to tell Drew that it was about time, but froze in shock, taking in his old friend’s appearance from head to toe.

“Dude,” he sputtered. “What…?”

“It’s a pun costume. I’m a Care Bear,” Drew deadpanned.

“But what…how…” The teddy bear scrubs were hilarious on their own, but Drew’s face was painted to resemble a bear’s muzzle with remarkable detail. Nestled into his curly dark hair were two round, furry brown ears.

“Remember how my sister used to make extra cash at festivals and fairs doing face-painting?” Drew pointed at his own black, shiny nose. “She hasn’t lost a step.”

Jack dissolved into helpless laughter. “Oh, man,” he said as he doubled over. “That’s so fuckin’ perfect I can’t even stand it.”

“The scrubs were a gag gift from an ex. I also have furry slippers with claws in the car, but I wasn’t about to drive in those.” Drew, chill as he’d ever been, didn’t seem to mind Jack’s sudden laughter-induced incapacitation. He had to have expected the reaction, in fact.

Jack was just glad his costume didn’t include makeup of any kind because if it had, it would be running down his face. He wiped tears from his cheeks and grabbed his keys, wallet and mask from the top of a handy cardboard box that was acting as a de facto hallway table.

“It’s brilliant. Let’s ride, Care Bear.” After locking up, they made their way to Drew’s old Volvo. “Still runs beautifully,” he commented as Drew fired it up.

“Well, living with my sister has its perks. One of them is a two-car garage where I can do all the basic maintenance this old lady needs.” Drew stroked the steering wheel. “And it’s a tank.”

“How’s Andrea doing?” Drew’s sister was a single mom who’d endured a horrible divorce. Drew moving in had meant his sister could keep the house, and he could be on call for the occasional childcare emergency. The rent was more than reasonable, and he could pay off his student loans a little faster. A win all the way around.

“She’s good. And Harper’s just turned six—can you believe it?”

A pang went through Jack at that. Harper hadn’t even been walking when he moved to Chicago. He’d missed so much. “No, I can’t believe it,” he said truthfully. Even having seen photos over the years, six just seemed impossibly grown-up for that little girl.

“Oh, she’s a piece of work. She was really ticked that she couldn’t go to first grade in September, but even though she’s smart, all the developmental literature says…” His friend went on, happily describing his prodigy niece, but his words receded to a background buzz.

He and Chloe had joked about having kids someday, but in a way that wasn’t really a joke. If he’d stuck around, would they have gotten married? Had a kid? Or would she have dumped him anyway?

There was no way of knowing. Jack shook himself, glancing at Drew to make sure his friend hadn’t noticed his inattention, but the big man just put the car in park, unbuckled his seat belt and looked over with a wry, crooked grin on his ursine face.

“Ready to face the hordes?” he asked.

Jack scrambled out to get his mask and gloves from the back seat, nerves making his hands shake. When they got in line to show their tickets and ID, he said, “You go in first. I have to take a leak. I’ll meet you inside.”

He needed a minute. Maybe two.

***

Chloe chatted with her friendly neighborhood werewolf/bartender, sipping at her delicious drink until the song was over and he was flooded with orders from costumed partygoers thirsty from dancing. Moving away from the bar, she wandered toward the entrance, not really sure what to do. She always came to these kind of events with a date or a group.

Why hadn’t she put together a group to go to this?

Oh, right. Fucking Ralph and his magical, mercurial dumping ass.

She got a few compliments on her costume as people wandered by, including one adorably tipsy Raggedy Ann who assured her she was, “Like, so pretty. But spooky. But pretty. What lipstick shade is that?” But before Chloe could say anything, she went on, “Because it’s so pretty. And your eyelashes…” She cast her somewhat glassy gaze over Chloe’s entire costume. “Wow.”

“Come on, Mads. Let’s get some food in you,” her Raggedy Andy said, mouthing Sorry at Chloe before they moved on.

“Nothing to be sorry for!” Chloe fluted at them, staying in character and batting her eyes. God bless drunk girlies. They were always good for a compliment or fifteen.

Resigned to people-watching, Chloe stationed herself and her rapidly dwindling sangria closer to the door to catch any new arrivals. A big dude in kiddie-print scrubs, fabulous bear face makeup, ears atop his head, and ohmygod fluffy brown slippers with claws moved into the room, his big, dark eyes taking in the scene. When her brain processed the visual pun, she giggled to herself, charmed.

Not her type—she was into lanky, not muscular—but that was seriously adorable. She approached the bear, who seemed to be on his own. “Are you an actual Care Bear?” she asked, but when his big head swung her way, she gasped. “Drew?”

Her ex’s bestie goggled at her. “Chloe?” His voice was a croak, barely audible above the opening strains of “Thriller.” Wow, they were spinning all the oldies tonight. On theme, at least.

On the one hand, Chloe had always liked Jack’s friend. He was sweet and low-key.

On the other hand, he was Jack’s friend. But she shouldn’t hold that against him. “Are you here with a group?”

“Um. No,” he said, definitely nervous. She never would have guessed that Halloween would be his scene at all. But coming here alone? That was either trying something new on a grand scale or some sort of desperation. Either way, her heart went out to him and she put her empty glass down. “Wanna dance?”

“Um, sure.” If anything, he looked even more nervous, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. But his slippered feet shuffled toward the dance floor and they joined the semidrunken throng. Drew was game, swinging his bent arms from side to side in homage to the original choreography, even though his giant bear paws meant he wasn’t exactly light on his feet. It was too loud and chaotic to try to talk, but that suited Chloe just fine. She loved dancing, and Drew was a safe person to get down with for a few minutes. Maybe she should just call her one drink and dance a win and go home after this.

The tune wound down and Chloe was about to step forward to thank Drew for the dance, when the DJ’s voice blared across the sound system. “Hey there ghouls and goblins, I see we have Halloween royalty gracing our presence tonight, so in honor of the Pumpkin King and his Queen…”

Chloe froze as the staccato strains of “This Is Halloween” from The Nightmare Before Christmas rang out.