CHAPTER ELEVEN
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RAJ SLAPPED HIS palms, then the back of his hands across his thighs three times.
The ballroom was a mess, but a contained one.
They were able to use the old crates to form a maze, herding people towards the section they’d managed to clean up.
A bed sheet stretched across two gargoyles protruding off of the mezzanine.
And they’d set the projector on an old cart from the high school.
People laid out their blankets on the hardwood floors then took to milling about in place. There was already a long line for the kettle corn and drinks. The happy din was only growing louder in anticipation of showtime.
“Nervous?” Logan leaned closer from his position on the other side of the main door.
“No,” Raj squeaked. He coughed and shook his head.
“Of course not.” His jittery fingers latched onto the hem of his shirt and tried to tug it down.
Regret flooded him. A costume made sense for the night, getting into the spirit and all.
But he’d have been better off dressing like a farmer, or even a generic zombie.
Why he thought to put on his only good shirt and suit was beyond him.
Even Logan only bothered with an “I’m here for the boos” t-shirt. Raj stood out like a sore thumb.
“Ah, I think he’s here,” Logan said with a laugh.
Raj stood up straight. He adjusted his blood-stained tie and fumbled for the vampire teeth in his pocket. He shouldn’t be nervous. He shouldn’t even care. But he couldn’t stop smiling.
This setup was going to blow his socks off. He’d be so jealous, his face would turn red and smoke oughta shoot out of his ears. Maybe he’ll even scowl, and those silvery eyes will…
“Hey!” Across the room, a fifty-six-year-old man waved his hand.
As people looked toward him, he suddenly jerked.
His eyes went wide, and he clamped onto his wrist. The fingers started to curl, then claw at thin air, before they went right for his throat.
“Just kidding!” Burt called out with another wave before he solemnly slapped his errant hand away. “Raj, man. It’s good to see you.”
Raj kept his smile on as he reached to take Burt’s hand. He should have known Logan meant their guest of honor. Who else would he refer to? Certainly not…
“Mr. Soup!”
Burt turned as Raj peered past his shoulder. There stood Adam, his jaw dropped. He’d painted his cheeks gaunt and eyes hollow, but even half dead, he was still striking. His soft lip quivered as he took in the friendly actor.
“Are you the MC for the night?” Burt asked.
“Yes.” Adam nodded. “That’s me. I’m…wow. I. I’m sorry, just meeting the Nose is—”
“I’ll do you one better and let you shake the hand of the Nose.” Burt stuck out his palm.
Adam shivered as if he’d walked on his own grave. Then he stuck out his hand. As he did, Raj noticed the makeup job done all around his wrist and forearm, giving the illusion that his hand was no longer attached. Burt spotted it too and gave an, “Ahh!” in response.
Once they touched hands, Adam began to babble, “I watched all your movies. Love them. All. The bathtub scene with the blood moose. Was it real?”
Burt chuckled in his usual easy-going way. “The moose, yes, but I was a puppet made out of salami and old ham.”
A flush burned under that pale makeup, and a twinge of jealousy struck Raj’s heart. Silly. What did he care if Adam would drop to his knees in a second for Burt Soup?
“Well.” Burt turned to Raj. “Where do you want me?”
Away from Adam. The prickle of jealousy turned into a full-on fire. Raj couldn’t stop glaring at him like he was about to throw down with horror’s royalty.
Logan stepped in. “There’s a special seat for you, best spot in the house. And padded.”
“Thank god. You can only fall down so many stairs before your coccyx is never the same again. Raj, man.” Burt slugged him in the shoulder. “We’ll catch up after. You still owe me a saki.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Raj pinched his thumb and smiled. “Way I remember it, the last one was your round.”
“Was it? Well, let’s call this even, then.”
As Logan appeased the star, guiding him toward the fancy armchair, he shot a warning at Raj. He mouthed, “What is wrong with you?” before walking away while describing the first movie of the night.
Raj pinched his eyes tight and tried to count back from ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.
“Well…” Adam curved his hip to the side and stared Raj up and down. “You clean up nice.”
Three, two, one, blast off.
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Damn.
The second Adam walked through the door, he knew he was in trouble. He’d tried lingering in the fancy hallway pretending to greet townsfolk as they walked in. In reality, he kept trying to catch a quick glance of the man he was supposed to forget about.
In his mind, he’d pictured Raj in one of his many oversized sweaters, maybe with holes in the thumbs, and sweatpants.
Course then the sweatpants became gray, and his brain glitched out thinking about that cock that had been pressed into his ass cupping fleece instead.
It was bad enough to have that in his head, but the man put on a suit.
Not just any suit, his shirt was a soft ivory with golden embroidery across the collar and cuffs. More damning, that embroidery carried over to the black tie. He wanted to run his fingers over it, trace every swoop of thread, then roll the fabric in his palm, dragging Raj closer and closer until…
“Hey!”
Oh, my god. Holy shit.
Adam had thought it all a ruse. That Raj was blowing smoke up the mayor’s ass to get his permits. But he’s here! Burt Soup is in the same room, breathing the same air.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Adam gasped in oxygen and called out to the man who made him fall in love with horror. He had no idea what he said. His brain shriveled back to a ten-year-old kid playing the ancient VHS tape on a loop while the world passed by.
For a brief second, sanity punctured in until he realized Burt was holding his hand.
The same hand that had ripped the zombie sheep’s head off.
Sentience vanished once again, leaving Adam gawping.
Someone had enough sense to at least take the man away before Adam drooled on him, or worse, asked for a plaster cast of the nose.
Without being near the man who was taller than he expected and smelled like a haunted library, his brain could finally put a few neurons to work.
All they worked on was piecing together the man before him.
The tempting belly curving over his belt, the tightness of the coat on his shoulders, the way the shirt collar clung a little too close to his neck.
Adam’s fingers twitched, every one wanting to help by tearing those poorly tailored clothes from Raj’s body.
Fuck. Why does my type have to be teddy bears in awkward suits?
Those eyes of eternal dreams drew to him. Everyone’s watching. Don’t start shit . “Well.” By sheer willpower, he managed to keep his voice level. “You clean up nice.”
“You become undead well,” Raj said.
It was hard to guess if that was a compliment or a slight, but in the spirit of the season, Adam chose the former. “Thank you. I’ve had some practice.”
“Oh, right. You were in the movies?”
Adam’s smile tightened. “Theater,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to introduce the movie.”
The town was in full force for the night.
Children dressed like their favorite superheroes, princesses, or general ninjas herded around the screen.
Parents, dressed in sweats and exhaustion, kept trying to pull them back.
Out on the lawn, the excited chirps and cries would thud into the grass and leaves.
Here, they caught on the high ceilings and mahogany fixtures to echo back until Adam was fairly certain he lost all hearing in one ear.
Putting on his everything’s-great smile, Adam strode down the center aisle. He spotted a few of the local Stitches’ costumes, nodding to each as he went out of habit. One in the back was so particularly well done he’d swear he caught red lights glowing under the burlap. That took commitment.
This is what Halloween is all about. Gathering with friends and family as the lights turn low, the shadows lengthen, and cold fingers dance on your shoulder.
Standing center stage, Adam couldn’t help absorbing the rising excitement.
It was more than a celebrity most people didn’t recognize.
It was greater than a movie from the eighties they played every year.
It was community…scaring the pants off of each other. He loved it.
Adam checked his watch, then gazed at the back of the room where a red velvet armchair took the best seat in the house.
Raj’s blond surfer was assisting Mr. Soup with anything he could need.
Adam nervously touched his breast pocket where he hid the laserdisc copy of Shadow Army .
He hoped that while the kids enjoyed their puppet-movie-that-induced-nightmares he could get Burt to sign it.
The man looked as enthralled with Logan as Raj was, causing Adam to press his lips.
Then, the Nose raised his chin. A twinkle caught in his eye, and he winked right at Adam.
Lights dimmed, and the children started to quiet.
Adam gazed out at the anticipatory faces, opened his mouth, and his brain blanked.
He knew why he was here, even what to say, but a fear gripped the base of his skull and wouldn’t let go.
What if I make a fool of myself in front of my horror idol?
I’ll never leave the house again. The quiet shifted to a low hum.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the mayor shuffling out of his lawn chair, his blanket hitting the floor.
“Hi,” Adam squeaked, needing anything to come out. Oh, god, it was the tenth-grade musical all over again. He was the first Seymour to vomit into Audrey II’s mouth. Heat burned up his chest he knew was about to turn into hives.