CHAPTER EIGHT
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EVERYTHING WAS BACK on track.
“Duck!”
Raj hit the deck just as a metal beam swung neck-height across the room. A few construction workers chased after it, offering apologies to the boss half watching. He had his other eye out the door on the gift shop teeming with kids shoving their sweaty faces into masks.
“Raj, man?” Logan shouted above the whir of tools.
“We’re almost on schedule,” Raj said. Okay, he hadn’t slept in two days, but he was fine.
A little jittery from the espresso shots, but fine.
This was going to work. “The rooms are staged, the props in place, the fountain’s working.
There’s a few parts of the haunted house that need work, but we should get the scare actors in soon for a run-through and training. All good.”
“The store…?” Logan began using his cautious voice. He snapped up one of a hundred clipboards scattered around the construction site.
Raj stuck his hands behind his back and smiled. “It’s working out well. Look how popular it is.”
“Yeah, with teenagers who are just as likely to throw a rock at a prop instead of buying it. And what’s this invoice for masks? I thought we were only doing hotel merch?”
“Just an idea I had. Be a one-stop Halloween shop for people without costumes or tourists looking to get in on the action. The masks are flying off the shelves.”
“Because you’re selling them for twenty-five bucks a pop and they cost us…thirty-three each?” Logan dropped the papers, then looked again, before staring Raj in the eye.
It’d been slow that first night with a handful of people wandering in from the muddy parking lot, staring at the cheap Halloween stuff, then leaving. He’d needed a hook, a way to get them here and in droves, so…
“It’s a loss leader. Stores do that.” And not that he got so wrapped up in being the center of attention that he discounted them over and over until bottoming out at seventy-five percent.
“Big stores that can take the hit, on Black Friday, who then make it up by jacking the prices the rest of the year. We’re gonna have to hit even by next July or—”
“Look, we needed to get people excited, and we did. Our book is full for the entire season, the town’s talking about the haunt. It’s working.” Raj tried to beam, but his eye twitched.
“You okay, man?”
“I’m great,” he shouted. “Just great. Everything’s great.”
So they wouldn’t technically have the only haunt in Anoka, but it’d be the best no matter the cost. People were going to talk about his place for years after.
Then, as the town crowned him the new Halloween king, he’d rub it in that bastard’s face.
Shove him against the wall, yank back his hair and…
Raj jerked, his stomach roiling at the idea of him touching the man he despised. Or maybe it was the breakfast of black coffee and Red Bull. Logan watched him leap onto one foot, then put the other back down with a careful eye. “Hmm?” Raj asked.
“I didn’t say anything.” He shifted his arms, and a bold flyer caught Raj’s eye. The word Halloween leaped out at him. He slid the paper free. “Maybe you should go get some sleep. We’ve got this under control…”
“What’s this?” Raj asked even as he read the itinerary from the Chamber of Commerce. It was every Halloween activity in the town up to the thirty-first. Most of the options were listed in small black font, but one simply called The Festival was in bold red, and it started in an hour.
“Don’t worry about that.” Logan tried to pull the paper away, but Raj was fixated.
He’ll be there, in his tight-ass suits with that one button undone, hip cocked, and long slender fingers around his tie. Ruling the whole community like he’s an actual king.
“I should go,” Raj said.
Logan’s head shot up from the paperwork, and he looked him over.
Turning the flyer around, Raj pointed to the festival. “Right? Isn’t that what I’m here to do? Schmooze? Be a part of the town?”
“We seem to have that under control. We’ve got the permits. Our time is probably better spent getting everything set up here.”
He thinks he won. Sure, I might be getting hosed in the masks, and the tacky costumes are barely coming in over cost, but you haven’t bested me, Adam Stein. This isn’t over.
Slipping a hand into his coat sleeve, Raj kept nodding at Logan. “I should be there. The festival. For advertising!”
“Isn’t that what the masks are for?” Logan asked.
“Get on the mayor’s good side.” Raj rammed his arm back twice before realizing he completely missed the hole. Spinning around, he finally managed to get his coat on.
“You already are,” Logan said.
“Make sure our haunt’s on all the banners and signs…” He took a step when he caught a haze of yellow in the reflection and pulled the hard hat off of his head.
“We are. We kicked in a couple grand for a donation and…”
Raj wrapped the scarf around his neck in the most insouciant way he could manage. Watch that bastard’s jaw fall at how cool and casual I am. Like I belong there.
“See you later, Logan,” Raj shouted as he dashed across the floor.
“What about…?” Logan sighed. “Have fun.”
Raj yanked open the door to face the autumn sunlight. As he took a step out, a gargoyle tumbled from the roof. Its wings shattered on the steps. “We’ll fix that later,” he shouted, leaping over the broken statue.
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Raj couldn’t stop messing with his stupid scarf. First, he wound it too tightly, which made it look like a snake was strangling him. Then, too loose, which only widened his already wide body. The last time, he managed to tie a knot in the end that wouldn’t get out.
He was so distracted, he wandered into the park without looking up until a band struck up and he found himself in the middle of Midsommar.
People wore hair crowns made of mums and corn stalks.
Children were playing some game involving rings and pumpkins.
Gourds of every size, color, and kind lined the sidewalks up to the grand bandstand.
Balloons shaped like that creepy scarecrow hung at face height.
They bobbed on the wind, looking like an army of straw men.
Raj stumbled to a crawl at the balloons.
People pushed in behind him, laughing and carrying their prize pumpkins.
Vendors shouted about apple cider, both the kid and adult varieties.
Others sold salted nuts and sausages with a straight face.
His skin prickled with goosebumps. It was like he fell back into not only another time but a place that never existed—like old Halloween cards where petticoated witches rode their brooms across the moon, or children lived in twenty-foot tall pumpkins.
It was unnerving and intoxicating at the same time.
One of the scarecrow balloons shifted, drawing Raj’s eye back as he realized it’d flown loose.
He reached over to catch it, and his hand hit straw instead.
Heart lurching, Raj leaped out of his shoes. Instead of the balloon, the real scarecrow stood before him. A burlap sack covered his face, hiding away all their features but the black yarn stitched over the mouth.
It’s a guy in a costume.
“Oh.” Raj breathed slowly. “You startled me. I thought… Boy, this town really does love scarecrows.”
Whoever was in there cricked his neck. It wasn’t an inhuman move, but the speed caused Raj to gulp. “Could, um…? Do you know where the committee is? For Halloween things?” He put on his best smile.
The scarecrow lifted a hand. Only the sound of straw ruffling in the air answered him. Raj bowed his head. “Thanks. I’ll…um, enjoy the festival. Oh, and be sure to visit the Heartbreak Hotel.”
There, he advertised to a seriously skinny man in a costume.
With his job done, Raj followed the scarecrow’s direction.
A lot of the kids and parents wandered off to the east toward the band.
But further to the north, he spotted a hint of people gathered around a canopy.
He’d never have thought to look there first.
Rounding the edge, Raj caught sight of the mayor talking to a woman who looked exactly like him despite them having none of the same features. Probably his wife. Then he gulped.
He’d expected a suit. Maybe a gaudy one with a jack o’lantern pattern on the coat, but no.
This bastard knew how to work every angle.
He’d dressed for the occasion, and it stole all the breath from Raj’s body.
The jacket was gone. Instead, he’d put on a corn silk colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
It wasn’t easy to make out at first, but as Raj pivoted, he could take in the whole vest.
On anyone else, he’d probably laugh or roll his eyes.
The vest boasted a green field, not quite emerald but not olive either—somewhere in an autumnal middle.
Embroidered across it were all manner of gourds resting in a perfect field.
The final touch was the scarecrow sitting just below his left breast—Stitches himself.
It was haunting, evocative… Raj could smell the cold wind rattling the field of corn stalks just looking at him. He was harvest itself.
“Mr. Chowdery!”
Raj braced himself to watch Adam’s smile falter, then fall.
He couldn’t explain it, but the thought churned his stomach.
So, as the dapper man turned and flashed his haunting eyes at Raj, the last thing he expected was for a little flare to spark across his face.
He nodded as if he’d expected this eventuality.
“You’ve joined us for the festival!” the mayor called with an exaggerated wave.
Casually throwing the end of his scarf over his shoulder, Raj walked to the mayor’s side while keeping his back always slightly to Adam. “I did. Managed to slip away from the hotel for a few minutes.”
“How’s it going, my boy?”
Did it get really quiet? Raj’s toes clenched as he realized everyone was looking at him and listening. “Great,” he cried out. “Everything’s on schedule for the soft opening tomorrow.”
“If it proves to be a tight fit, a little lubricant goes a long way.”
Raj’s face turned beet red, and he stared right at the instigator.
In the dark of the night, his eyes were a shadow crawling across a tombstone.
But by the light, they glowed like mercury plunging into an ocean.
The idea of those quicksilver eyes bearing down on him while he circled Raj’s ass with a lubed finger cut him to the quick. “What?” Raj squeaked out.
“Slip a little grease someone’s way,” Adam said, and fanned out a mess of one-dollar bills. “Why, what else could I mean?”
The others all laughed as if they were too pure to catch the deliberate innuendo. Then Adam gave a quick smirk and licked the side of his lips.
He’s messing with me. I don’t know how or why… Okay, I know the why. He doesn’t want me here. But the flirting should be unnerving. Hammering thoughts of that taut forearm undoing his tie one-handed into my mind until I go mad…
“Are you ready?” a woman called out from below one of the three canopies. They shielded tables each holding a huge crock pot, lines of apples and sticks, and a big bowl of sprinkles.
“For…?” Raj asked, realizing he should have checked the full schedule before heading in here.
His nemesis sidled in beside him. A cologne of licking flames and forgotten souls wafted on the breeze. Raj did his best to shut his nose before he imprinted on it. “It’s the annual caramel apple contest,” Adam said, pointing to the supplies.
“Oh, is this your first year?” the woman at the center asked. Raj gave a quick nod. “You’re so lucky. This is so much fun. We sell caramel apples to raise funds for the committee. And every year we make a game out of it. Whoever can make the most caramel apples in thirty minutes wins.”
“Wins what?” Raj asked.
The woman blinked a moment, then smiled. “The town’s respect.”
Exactly what he needed.
Raj reached for his sleeves to roll them up when Adam gave him a withering, dissecting look. The look dared Raj to try to beat him. To best him at this quaint Anoka tradition and earn not only the town’s respect but that damn crown he clung to.
Adam sauntered over to the canopy and took his place at the farthest right station right in front of the crock pot probably full of caramel.
An old lady wearing a crocheted bonnet and hand-knit sweater with a black cat on the front leaned in beside him.
She gave a quick side hug to Adam, who was too busy lording over his spot to return it.
This is so stupid. What am I doing? I need to get back to the hotel, finish things, and…
“Here, dearie.” The old lady by Adam waved to Raj. “Why don’t you take that pot?” She pointed to the one right beside Adam’s.
The glove was thrown, and Raj couldn’t walk away even if his life depended on it.
“Thank you, um…?” He shrugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. With his forearms exposed, he turned to the kind woman, only to catch a peculiar expression on Adam’s face. It looked halfway between a sneeze and a snarl.
“Oh, I’m Carol,” the woman said, her hand out to him.
He reached around Adam—who refused to give up his space—in order to shake hers. “I’m Raj.”
“I know, love. You’re famous around here.”
“I am?”
“A bona fide movie man in our little town. Oh, you two should talk shop.” She wrapped her arms around Adam’s shoulders and forced his rebar body to bend.
Staring at the rigid man, Raj asked, “You were…?”
“Theater, Mom. It’s a different beast from Hollywood.”
“Same thing,” she said with a laugh. “You two have so much in common.”
Raj glanced over at him the same moment Adam did. For a beat, they just stared as if waiting for the other to blink. Heat dripped down Raj’s spine, his lips parting like he needed to pant. Adam licked the edge of his mouth and tapped his fingers on the table.
“Are we ready?” the mayor called out.
The spell snapped. Both men turned away, scowls rising.
Yes, they had so much in common, like trying to destroy each other.
“Let the caramel apple fight begin!”