2
CONCEALMENT
Harrison decided to dress up as Pinhead fromHellraiser. I guess he’s going for the retro effect and thinks it’s totally hilarious when he jumps out on me as I walk through the front door and frightens me half to death.
My costume has been causing me some trouble. I need something sexy. I wouldn’t be able to seduce Harrison wearing something gross. But it also has to keep me as anonymous as possible. All the horror masks I looked at were seriously scary and grotesque.
In the end, I settle on being a vampire with a black lace bat-shaped mask, a long black wig with bangs, and a short black and red dress that flares out around my thighs and has a high collar to complete the effect. I buy a palette of face paint and some fake blood, but draw the line at fake teeth, because, well, I’m planning to do things with my mouth that don’t involve piercing jugulars!
I practice the look once, a couple of days before the party, so I can make sure I have everything I need. It’s strange to cover up my short blonde hair with a long black wig. In the dress, I feel like a different person. Edgy. More powerful. With the make-up and mask in place, I’m almost unrecognizable. The one thing I worry would give me away is my eyes. I’ve inherited my mothers yellow-green cat eyes, and they’re pretty unique. So much so, I decide to buy some colored contacts, opting for violet to really complete the effect.
On the night, I wait for Harrison to leave. I knew he’d want to come and show off his costume before he left, so I make sure to stuff all my accessories in the closet.
“So, what do you think?” he asks, sticking his head around my door, then coming to stand in my room.
Even dressed as a twisted horror character, he looks gorgeous. The black robe clings to his chest and shoulders, and he looks so damn tall, too.
“You’re never going to pull in that,” I say, knowing it’ll annoy the shit out of him.
“Course, I will. If I see someone I like, I’ll just ditch the mask. Girls can’t resist a man in costume.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, inwardly chuckling a crazy horror cackle. He has no idea what’s coming his way.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harrison says, looking me over. I’ve dressed in a little black tube dress and heels, so I look like I’m heading out somewhere myself.
“Yeah, have a great night,” I say, bending over to do the strap on my shoe. Harrison clears his throat, and when I look up at him, he looks almost guilty for something. “What?” I ask, wondering what I’ve missed.
“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I’m out, okay. Going to get a ride with Luka.” He disappears through my bedroom door before I can answer.
When I hear the front door bang and Harrison’s feet plodding down the sidewalk towards Luka’s house, I throw open my closet and grab my outfit. My hands are shaking as I pull up the fishnet stockings and strap up my four-inch heels. The dress is so tight it gives me the most amazing cleavage. My white face make-up looks ghoulish but not unpleasant, teamed with red lips and smoky eyes. As I slip on the wig, put in the contacts, and tie on the mask, my transformation is complete. There is absolutely no way Harrison is going to recognize me.
I call a cab and wait for it to arrive, pacing up and down in my room. Dad and Lacey have gone to one of dad’s work socials, so I have the house to myself, which is perfect because there’s no way I want anyone to witness me leaving dressed like this.
The cab is late but not by much, and I’m confident that Harrison would have already arrived at Jacob’s and be a few drinks into his evening. That’s pretty key. There’s one part of me I’ll struggle to change and that’s my voice, but if he’s a little drunk, my attempts at a sexy, husky modification might seem more believable.
On the journey, my hands are trembling. I never go to parties alone. Girls like to hang in packs or with a boyfriend. Lone females might as well have a neon arrow over their head saying ‘easy target,’ and I guess that’s the look I’m going for tonight.
I want to turn heads.
I want to be mysterious.
I want the speculation, and I want Harrison’s eyes on me. Maybe I’m crazy. I keep thinking I’m crazy. Part of me wants to tell the shady-looking cab driver to turn around so I can spend the rest of the evening trying to get myself out of my disguise. The other part of me, the desperately hot, clenching bit, wants to strut into that party, take my stepbrother by the hand and lead him up the stairs. My mind slides over to its new favorite image, the thing that hangs so spectacularly between Harrison’s thighs. I feel breathless thinking about it, frantic and dazed. I’m a massive bag of hormones craving a cock that could only be described as huge, attached to a man that is totally infuriating and off-limits, but that I know has a heart of gold.
This has to be the most insane thing I’d ever done.
I ask to pull over a few houses away from Jacob’s, so I won’t be getting out directly in front. There are other people arriving, all in crazy Halloween costumes. The music is loud enough to be heard outside; something upbeat with a deep base. Jacob has obviously gone all out with the organization because colored flashing lights can be seen illuminating the inside of the house through the windows.
I pay the cab driver through the window, then make my way slowly along the sidewalk. Just as I’m about to walk up to the front door, another cab drops a group of other partygoers outside. I stall, looking into my clutch, pausing to wait for them to pay, and walk past me. I follow, using their arrival to lessen the impact of mine. I’m confident people won’t recognize me, but I don’t want to do anything to draw extra speculation. A man I don’t know opens the door, but he looks a bit like Jacob, so I assume he’s family. A cousin maybe. “Come on in, and go and get wasted,” he shouts, pointing through to the kitchen area. I’ve been to Jacob’s house a few times before. He dated Bethany, one of my besties, for a few months last year. The pool in his backyard is enormous, and he knows how to grill too.
I shuffle in with the others, who are all dressed in tacky Halloween costumes. I’m glad not to be the only one who’s ignored the ‘horror movie’ theme. The music is loud, the floor pulsing under my feet, and it’s dark too, with only fairy lights and pumpkins casting a dim glow in the corridor. In the kitchen, it’s brighter, but I don’t recognize anyone yet. I find a bottle of vodka and pour myself half a cup, then top it up with warm coke. It tastes like shit, but I need the warm feeling as it spills into my stomach. I need the fuzziness that I know it will wrap around my mind. I need guts to do what I’m going to do.
I take my half-finished drink and wander into the spacious den. There are people lounging on couches, talking, and drinking, which looks really strange because they are all in full costume. Others are dancing by the doors to the backyard. I scan the room quickly to find Harrison and see him sitting on the edge of a coffee table, chatting to some girls that are seated on the floor. One is dressed like a slutty zombie schoolgirl and the other like a sexy witch. He’s laughing hard, and they’re giggling, and I’m filled with poisonous boiling jealousy that makes me want to hiss. One of Harrison’s friends taps him on the shoulder and makes a ‘drink’ gesture. Harrison nods and then swallows what’s left in his cup and passes it over. If I knowHarrison,he’ll be sticking to beer. He gets terrible hangovers on the hard stuff.
I hang against the wall, pretending to look at the books and photographs on the shelves, glancing at Harrison out of the corner of my eye. Jacob’s mom has an interesting collection of novels. I wonder if her son has noticed the smutty books she likes to read and keeps on display. I sip my drink slowly. It’s a prop now, giving me something to do, so that I look less conspicuous. The next time I glance at Harrison, the girls are getting up and walking away, chatting. They head towards the stairs, probably looking for the bathroom. Harrison glances around for someone familiar, although how he’d recognize who is under the latex masks most people are in, I’ve no idea. I’m just about to move in his direction when I feel a hand on my waist and a gust of breath against my ear. “Nice costume,” a deep voice murmurs. “Looking for some company?”
I don’t recognize the man behind me from his tone. His hand is so big his fingers almost reach my navel, and he’s tall, stooping down to talk to me. I was hoping my costume was going to attract attention, but not from strangers.
I turn and catch sight of Freddie Krueger’s rubbery representation standing behind me. Seduction with the mask of a killer somehow doesn’t come across very well.
“It’s a costume party,” I say dismissively, looking back at Harrison. He’s still there, looking at his phone, his Pinhead mask illuminated by the screen. He looks strange and otherworldly, and I just want to shrug off the pest behind me and get over there before another one of these bimbos gets there first.
“And you carry it off so well,” the stranger says, his other hand moving to stroke my neck.
“Hey,” I spin around, definitely not up for the kind of attention he seems to want to give. Freddie raises his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he says and takes a step back before I have a chance to reply. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and find Harrison walking towards me. “Everything okay?” he asks and for a moment I panic, thinking he’s recognized me, but then I realize that this is typical Harrison behavior. He has a powerful sense of right and wrong. And, despite being a terrible flirt, he’s always very respectful.
I take the opportunity to move closer to him as if I’m seeking protection. I feel bad for Freddie because he was just flirting, and my actions are making him look like a sexual predator. He doesn’t seem concerned, though, walking away and disappearing into the crowd by the doors to the deck.
“Thanks,” I whisper, and I see Harrison’s eyes, behind his mask, flick to mine.
I wait for a sign that he recognizes me, but I don’t see one. What I do see is the narrowing of his eyes as he smiles at me beneath his terrifying mask.
“You know that you’re asking for trouble coming to a party full of horny men wearing an outfit like that?”
I look down at my costume as though I’m surprised by what he’s saying, but inside I’m dancing. He noticed.
“It’s just a costume,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“That’s not a costume,” he says huskily. “It’s a work of art.”
I grin at him and do an exaggerated curtsy. “Glad it worked out so well.”
“It really did.” He shakes his head. “You gonna give me a twirl so I can see it in all its glory?”
“If you want.” I pivot on my ridiculous heels, concentrating so I don’t fall and make a fool of myself.
“Damn,” he mutters, and when I turn back to face him, he has a hand over his heart. “If I wasn’t so young and fit, you might have just given me a heart attack.”
“Shut up,” I say, tossing the hair of my wig over my shoulder. The black strands tickle my bare back.
“I’m serious,” he says. “I’m Harrison, by the way.” He holds his hand out for me to shake and I want to laugh at how different he is to me when he thinks I’m not his stepsister, just a hot piece of ass ripe for the picking.
“Mandy,” I say. It’s the first name that comes into my head.
“Short for Amanda?”
“Just Mandy.”
“It’s cute. Reminds me of the show…Morkand Mandy.”
“That was Mindy!” I splutter with laughter, and he puts his hands on his hips.
“Don’t you know that guys hate being laughed at?” he says in a mock-serious voice. I know all his tones, having lived with him for so long. For the first time since I came up with this ridiculous plan, I feel predatory. If I ever get him upstairs, I know he’ll enjoy himself, and if I can keep in character, he’ll never know it was me, but I’ll know. I’ll remember that I used my knowledge of him as my stepbrother to seduce him, and rather than it making me feel powerful, suddenly I feel manipulative.
I shrug my shoulders, feeling despondent, the idea of going home seriously crossing my mind. All the preparation, all the secret longing, seems ridiculous. What kind of person am I to put my own desires and feelings above someone else’s in such a big way, particularly someone that I know and care for?
“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on the top of my arm. “I was only joking.”
“I know,” I whisper. It’s too noisy for him to hear my mouse-voice, but he must lip read.
“You want to go somewhere for a bit? Somewhere quieter?”
“Sure,” I say. This is exactly what I was hoping for, but now my success tastes bitter. Still, I follow him out of the main room, down a corridor that’s lined with people chatting and drinking, and into a small side room that’s like a study but with comfortable chairs.
Harrison flops down on the couch, pulls off his mask, and opens the fastenings on his robe.
“Such a relief to take this thing off,” he says, chuckling it onto the floor. His hair is mussed, and he runs his hands over it in a way that seems ridiculously sexy.
Maybe it isn’t.
Maybe I’m just a loser with a crush that would think anything about the boy I like is cute.
I go to sit down next to him just as he throws his arm along the back of the couch. Suddenly, I find myself sitting with his arm around me. “So Mandy, with the sexy costume, where are you from?”
“I’m local,” I say, almost choking on the words. From the bedroom, next door to yours would be the truthful answer, but I can’t give away my secret.
“How come I haven’t seen you around?” His eyes travel from my face and rest on the hemline of my skirt that has ridden up so high I’m an inch off flashing my panties at him.
“Maybe you have,” I whisper, knowing I’m heading into dangerous territory but seemingly unable to stop myself.
“I think I would have remembered.” Harrison pauses and looks around the room. “Are you okay now? Out there, you seemed a bit upset.”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure that guy didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m sure,” I reply. “He was just being handsy.”
“Well, you can’t really blame him, can you?” Harrison says, looking at me pertinently. “That costume is pretty special.”
I lick my lips, remembering the red gloss I painted on them. The mask is itchy against my skin, but there’s no way I can take it off without risking that he will recognize me.
“Are you into gothic horror?” I ask, knowing full well he isn’t. He does like Stephen King though, and other crime thriller type books he stacks on his nightstand.
“I wasn’t before tonight, but I think I might have changed my mind.”
“You don’t seem to be enjoying your costume very much.” I nod my head towards the hideous latex pile of grotesque face and pins that is lying on the wood floor.
“Do you have any idea how sweaty it gets inside a mask like that?”
“I guess I don’t.”
“Lucky you. I’ve learned a lesson tonight. Next time my stupid friend suggests we dress up for a party, I’m gonna tell him he’s on his own.”
I chuckle softly. “You don’t have to wear a big latex mask though, do you? You could paint your face. There are all these gross stick-on wounds at the costume store. There is so much you can do for Halloween that doesn’t involve a face full of rubber.”
Harrison laughs. “I’m not as artistic or imaginative as you, obviously.”
He is. I’ve seen the doodles he draws lying on his desk when I’ve gone into his room to borrow a pen. He has an eye for art too. Apart from the sexy calendar of a bimbo pop star he has on his wall, the other posters are all beautiful abstract landscapes. I can’t say any of this, though, without giving myself away, so I look around the room, trying to think of something innocuous to say that’s interesting too. When you know someone well, it’s hard to think of how you might talk to them as a stranger. My mind is blank, except for the weather. I must wait for too long, looking uncomfortable or something because he asks if I’m okay or if I want to go back to the party.
I shake my head and look at him. His gorgeous hazel eyes look soft and his lips. Oh god, I’ve dreamed about kissing those beautiful full lips. His hair is still mussed, and it makes him look younger and more innocent somehow. I know I’m running out of time, but I’m so torn.
I know this is my only chance to know what it would be like to be with Harrison. In our real lives, we are step siblings, and it would be just too big a line for him to cross.
I know this.
He wouldn’t want to upset our parents. He wouldn’t want to take advantage of me. He wouldn’t risk our happy home. And it’s the first time since he moved in that we are both single. Who’s to say it will last?
I’ve always been the kind of person to seize the day, maybe because my mom passed away when I was little and before I had the chance to get to know her or tell her the things I would have if I had known. If I pass up this chance, I won’t ever know how it feels to be in his arms, to have his body linked with mine. And I know I will always regret that.
I don’t do regrets.
“I want to stay here,” I say.