Chapter 14
Bennett
“Time to put on our costumes!” Zoe says after we eat an early dinner on Friday.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “It’s only five thirty.”
“Exactly! I’m sure the trick-or-treaters will start arriving soon.”
“But the costume contest isn’t until later,” I say as dread creeps over me. She wants to wear costumes for the kids?
I should have known.
I’m not sure why I agreed to this madness. I just can’t say no to her sometimes. She looks at me with those wide, not-so-innocent eyes, and I crumble like a house of cards, even if my outward expression is impassive.
“How about this?” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “You set up the pumpkins while I get dressed, and then you can guess what you’ll be wearing.”
She bounds up the stairs before I can respond, so I set about doing as she instructed.
I put the lights in the pumpkins and place them on the porch.
No sooner have I poured the first box of candy into a bowl than the doorbell rings.
I answer it and see a small banana, who looks around nervously before saying “trick or treat” in a very quiet voice. I let him choose a candy bar.
“The kids have already started coming?”
When I hear Zoe, I turn. She’s descending the stairs in a long red cape, a bow tied under her chin. Underneath the cape, she’s wearing a low-cut black dress.
“What do you think?” She spins around when she reaches the first floor. The cape flies out. “When I found this, I decided I had to be Little Red Riding Hood.”
I have no idea what I was expecting. Costumes aren’t something I think much about.
The last time I wore one was probably in my final year of high school, when I dressed up as a skeleton—a costume I wore a few years in a row—to accompany my brother for trick-or-treating.
My parents wouldn’t let him go with just his friends, and I didn’t mind.
Back in those days, we got along, and he still looked up to me.
I stare at Zoe. She’s so incredibly sexy. How did Clifton even dream of fucking this up?
“I…it’s nice,” I finally manage.
She smirks. She knew what her outfit would do to me. I want to untie that bow and watch the red fabric pool on the floor, then pull that dress…
The doorbell jars me out of my inappropriate thoughts.
“Allow me,” Zoe says.
She dumps the bowl of candy into a picnic basket that I only just noticed. Then she opens the door to two pumpkins and Pikachu.
“How many children do you usually get?” she asks as she closes the door.
“Eighty to a hundred. We’re at four so far.”
“I can handle the door while you change. I put your costume on your bed. You’ll have to wear jeans with it.”
Interesting. I thought I’d be the wolf, but maybe I’m supposed to be the lumberjack?
I head upstairs to my bedroom. There’s a red flannel shirt spread out on my quilt, and next to it? A wolf hat. There are also gloves that look like paws.
I groan.
I put everything on and head downstairs as though I’m marching toward my doom. Mittens steps out of her room and regards me with suspicion.
“Hello, Mr. Wolf!” Zoe squeals in delight.
“I feel like a cross between a wolf and lumberjack.”
“Would you have preferred a wolf onesie? That was the other option.”
“They make onesies for adults?” I ask, appalled.
“Of course. They make everything these days.”
“Clearly.”
“Now, there’s just one more thing.” She pulls something out of a bag.
“No,” I say when I see it. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? You can put it through your belt loops.”
“It’s a tail.”
“It’ll be cute,” she says.
“I’m not cute. Why can’t I just be a lumberjack?”
In all honesty, I doubt we’re getting any awards with these costumes. They’re not bad, but they’re not worthy of winning a contest, unless very few people enter. I’d rather ditch the paws and wolf hat. I can make an ax out of cardboard.
“Please?” she says.
Just that one syllable, and somehow, it’s enough. If she wants me to wear a tail for Halloween, I’ll do it. For her.
I try not to think about what that means.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh.
“Yay!” She claps her hands.
I take off my wolf hat before removing my belt. I place them both on the table beside the door. “Pass it over.”
She doesn’t immediately give me the tail. No, she’s looking at my belt.
Fuck. Did watching me remove an article of clothing do something for her?
I can’t think about that.
“Zoe?”
She hands me the tail, and I slide the flimsy band through my belt loops before fastening and tightening it.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“I can’t get the full effect until you put the hat back on. You should be thankful I got you a hat rather than a mask that fully covers your face.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. I just put the hat on and turn in a circle.
“Oh my god!” she says. “It’s perfect. We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”
I think that’s why Zoe wants to do this contest. Not because she has her eyes on the prize, but because she genuinely finds costumes fun.
And if this is what she wants, I can give it to her.
“I didn’t use your sewing machine,” she says, “but I did take a piece of fabric.” She gestures to the gingham that’s lining the picnic basket full of candy.
That’s good. It might as well be used, rather than collecting dust in my basement.
The doorbell rings, and Zoe opens the door to a child of about four in an Elsa costume.
Her mother is carrying a toddler dressed as a robot.
He buries his head at the sight of me, and I push up the hat so my face is more visible.
I don’t want to scare any small children.
Mind you, Clifton was terrified of Santa Claus at that age, so you never know what might set a kid off.
Two hours later, Zoe suggests we pack it in for the night.
We give extra candy to the final group of kids before removing the lights from the pumpkins.
She helps herself to one of the remaining candy bars in her basket: a Coffee Crisp.
Since it’s Halloween, I grab an Aero. She smiles at me, and I look away before I accidentally smile back.
Because the truth is, it has been kind of fun. I don’t particularly care for wearing a costume, and this hat is getting kind of hot, but I liked not doing this alone.
And I enjoy looking at her in that glorious red cape. More than I should.
“Let’s head out in five minutes, okay?” she says. “I want to get there at a good time.”
Soon, we’re walking toward the subway together, passing the occasional group of older children in costumes. There were more kids than some years, probably owing to the nice weather; I’m wearing a light jacket on top of my costume, nothing more. It’s certainly not cold enough for winter coats.
“You need to practice your howl,” Zoe says to me.
“I’m not howling at the moon tonight.”
“Fine. Your growl.”
As if on cue, a passing dog barks at me.
I do not growl back.
“I might be wearing a tail,” I say to Zoe, “but wolf sounds are too far.”
“If I were dressed as a wolf, I’d howl.”
“Fortunately for me, you’re wearing a pretty red cape instead.”
“Did you just call me pretty?”
“I called the cape pretty.”
But I’m acutely aware that I wouldn’t think it was nearly as nice on anyone else. She’s the one who makes the cape so alluring, even though it’s mostly covered by her jacket now. Still, I can see the red bow at her throat, the one I’ve fantasized about untying.
I ball my hands into fists so I don’t reach out to touch her.
Goddammit. Why am I so tempted?
We take the subway with many other people in costumes, and we arrive at the steampunk bar in the Annex at nine thirty. Zoe is practically bouncing in excitement as we wait in the short line, behind someone in an inflatable T-Rex costume. The man at the door appears to be scanning people’s phones.
“Are we supposed to have tickets?” I ask.
“Yep! Don’t worry, I bought them a few days ago.”
I’ll have to pay her back.
When we get inside, she tells me to grab a table while she registers us for the competition. The only table I can find on the first floor is a small high-top next to an elaborate mural.
I feel out of place. Most of the people here are younger than me, though it’s a little hard to tell with the masks and costumes.
Zoe skips toward me, her basket swinging. “Okay, we’re all set. I’ll get us a couple of drinks. Do you want something with alcohol, or non-alcoholic?”
“Alcohol is good.”
My gaze tracks her red cape as she maneuvers her way toward the bar; I can’t keep my eyes off her.
The bartender is wearing a steampunk adventurer costume, goggles perched on his head.
He laughs at something Zoe says, then starts preparing our drinks.
She returns with two glasses, each filled with reddish liquid and topped with an eyeball on a cocktail skewer.
“Isn’t it cool?” she says with a delight that would usually be reserved for things that aren’t eyeballs. “It’s made of a lychee and cherry.”
She sits down on the chair next to me, her thigh pressing against mine. Does she know what she’s doing to me?
I stare at her mouth as she tries her drink.
“Mm.” She grins. “That’s good.”
Then, fuck me, she licks her lips.
This puts all sorts of terrible thoughts in my head, and my cock jerks to attention despite the fact that we’re in a crowded bar. I tighten my grip on my drink, half afraid I’m going to break the glass, but I don’t shift my chair away from hers. I can’t. Her thigh feels too good.
“Zoe?”
I whip my head around. The voice belongs to a white woman in an animal costume. From the ears, I’m guessing she’s supposed to be a mouse.
“Hi,” Zoe says. Despite the noise in the room, I can tell that her tone is unusually chilly. I’ve never heard her speak like this before. Is the mouse…
“Macy? Did you find a table?”
And that voice is very, very familiar.
Because it belongs to my brother.