Nine
Daphne arrived at Buffalo’s historic Central Terminal loaded down with copious amounts of single-serve candy bars and a bunch of swag bags.
She’d been pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to the small business trunk or treat event a week before Halloween, or rather for Robin to invite her to participate as part of their group.
Aside from being a great way to get the word out to potential clients, she also found community events good fun, and she hadn’t done anything overtly whimsical since she’d moved to town more than a month ago.
Fall was in full swing as the trees lining the parking lot popped in heavy doses of red and orange, while people in a wide range of costumes bustled about setting up tables and opening the trunks of their cars to reveal treasure troves of goodies.
Daphne threaded her way between barrels being filled to bob for apples and a crew of skeletons carrying decorative bales of hay, until someone shouted her name.
“I’m glad you made it.” Robin bounced around happily. “Halloween’s the best!”
“I see why you’d think so. You look amazing.”
Robin did a little twirl and caught hold of Sawyer. “Oh, and you haven’t met my person yet. This devilishly handsome, endlessly skilled, they/them pronouned creature possesses all the bent and blended boundaries one person can contain, so I locked that shit down.”
“Such a thrill to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Wolf. And I can see why this woman would’ve gladly played prey in your case.”
Sawyer bowed low with a perfectly wolfish grin. “I do appreciate a woman who recognizes a bit of ‘bad’ is often warranted. Though you can call me Sawyer in mixed company. I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like we’re already friends.”
“Does my reputation precede me?”
“You brought a bed into Gillian’s office suite. Of course it does. Then you show up dressed as Stevie Nicks.” They nodded to the headwear matching their own. “Welcome to Team Top Hat.”
Daphne beamed. “I’m glad you knew who I was. I had to reuse a costume from a party I attended a few years ago. I wanted something more kid friendly, but I lost track of time.”
“The kids might miss the memo, but the moms will dig the flowing black shawl paired with the hat and those fingerless gloves.”
“The gloves make it,” Robin agreed. “A little elegance, a little naughty, like you might play the piano later, or you might do something much more fun. Forget Team Top Hat, I’m claiming you for Team Rabble-Rouser.”
“I didn’t even know there were teams, but I’m happy to be on one.”
“The cohorts are almost as fluid as I am, but our friend group forms voting blocks around various topics,” Sawyer explained.
“Robin and I are almost always in favor of tomfoolery and general hijinks. Tegan can be swayed to side with us when the shenanigans involve little or no risk of physical injury. She’s a yes for karaoke, improv theater, axe throwing, and the like. ”
“Not sure I would’ve put axe throwing in the low-risk category, but this is tremendously helpful. What about the others?”
“Brooke is a walking moderation mechanism. She’s the compromising peacemaker and human balancing act of the crew.
She was generally inclined toward the introverted and mild-mannered wine-and-a-movie set until Tegan knocked her socks off.
Now she’s sliding more to the middle, so long as there’s little to no physical exertion involved.
She’s endlessly and weirdly good at random things, but if we’re hiking, biking, or playing any game requiring her to leave a lawn chair, she’s out. ”
“Got it. Tegan draws the line at physical harm, Brooke at physical exertion.”
“Then there’s Gillian …” Robin grinned.
“We’ve met,” Daphne deadpanned. “Queen of the No-Fun Club.”
“Not true,” Robin said at the same time Sawyer said, “Specific fun.”
Daphne laughed. “Are you trying to tell me she’s not the far opposite end of this continuum of chaos?”
“Chaos, yes, but don’t count her out,” Robin said. “She’s got high standards, which can make her epic.”
Daphne didn’t buy it, and the doubt must’ve shown plainly on her face.
“She’s an absolute shark in anything competitive, and she does not share Brooke’s aversion to playing rough.” Sawyer’s smile filled with admiration. “She’ll burn your ass in flag football and laugh in your face as she fires shots over your head on the basketball court, nothing but net.”
Daphne nodded grudgingly. “Okay, that tracks from the all-American.”
“Oh yeah, you knew her back in her athletic heyday.”
Something inside Daphne pushed against the descriptor. She wasn’t sure she’d ever genuinely known Gillian, and she didn’t want to think of those years as their glory days.
“Oh, and she’s got a taste for the finer things in life.” Robin sounded almost dreamy. “She knows all the best restaurants and hosts top-shelf dinner parties, plus she makes the most amazing red sauce you’ve ever tasted.”
Sawyer groaned in agreement. “To die for. And don’t forget the spa trips.”
Robin feigned a swoon. “She is the most amazing trip planner you can even imagine. She took us to a spa in Canada with a eucalyptus steam room, a sauna, and this cascading set of pools and—”
“Wait.” Sawyer caught Robin’s arm. “Here she comes.”
They all turned to see Gillian striding confidently through the parking lot dressed to the nines as Merida from Brave.
Daphne’s breath caught at the sight of her in a green and gold gown flowing almost to her ankles, which were clad in brown lace-up boots that clearly went higher than the hemline showed.
Her naturally red hair had been curled into an untamed state that nearly matched Daphne’s usual look.
She would’ve been the picture of femininity if not for the brown belt/quiver combo cocked haughtily across her hips and the authentic longbow slung over her shoulder.
The weaponry added more than a touch of badass, and the way Gillian sauntered through the gathering crowd made Daphne certain this woman was capable of using them if the need arose.
“Look at The Boss,” Robin shouted.
“Pure lux.” Sawyer gave a wolf whistle.
“Look at that figure, all legs and hips.” Robin nudged Daphne’s arm as if to make sure she noticed.
Newsflash: She had.
It was impossible not to notice a woman like Gillian.
Whether she was dressed to inspire confidence in her suits or flashing something softer and more dangerous like tonight, she commanded the attention of every room she entered.
Daphne didn’t have to like her to admit she generally cut an imposing and alluring figure.
The most appealing part of this moment, though, wasn’t her figure or her costume, or even the way she carried herself with confidence, though when you put them all together, it was hard to deny why everyone seemed immediately taken with Gillian.
No, Daphne had grown nearly immune to her perfect poise.
What struck her most tonight was the hint of something real, something genuine.
Ironic that on a night when so many wore suits and masks to hide their true identities, Gillian had instead chosen to show up as a more her version of herself, and the hint of playfulness injected into the competency appeal made it even harder to look away.
As if to make the point even sharper, Gillian spotted Sawyer and her smile spread. She lifted her bow and effortlessly nocked an arrow. “Who needs a woodsman when you have an archer?”
Sawyer held up their fur-padded palms in surrender. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing. I’m a mere lapdog to your top-boss energy.”
“You’re a puppy. Heel. Stay.” Gillian laughed, and seemed like she might say more, but the joke died on her lips when she noticed Daphne standing beside them. Her smile faltered from genuine to practiced, and she clearly took a deep, slow breath as if centering herself.
Daphne suffered a pang of sadness at the realization she’d been the one to cause her guard to go up.
She would’ve much rather spent the evening hanging out with the woman Sawyer and Robin saw, even if she wasn’t ready to believe that woman was real.
Tonight was a night for illusions, and Gillian had created a compelling one.
“Hi, Daphne. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Daphne glanced to Robin awkwardly, who just smiled and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that?”
Gillian shook her head. “You must have.”
“If there’s not enough room for me …” Daphne’s chest tightened, and she couldn’t quite finish the statement. She didn’t want to stay somewhere she wasn’t welcome, but she also didn’t want to leave an event she’d looked forward to.
“Of course there’s room,” Sawyer said gracefully.
“We brought Robin’s car to park next to Gillian’s.
Two cars, two businesses, same mission to spread the good word to parents while sugaring up their kids.
Which, when you think about it, will drive said parents crazy enough to need therapy and quiet cuddling.
It’s a good circle for drumming up new clients. ”
Daphne managed a smile at the logic, but her eyes stayed on Gillian, trying to gauge her reaction as she shifted from one foot to the other.
“Sure, of course. The more the merrier,” she finally said with more resignation than warmth, but before Daphne could check her sincerity, Gillian pivoted toward Robin, all business once again.
“I got us registered and left flyers at the entry, but I imagine we’ll get the most interaction as families make their rounds.
My trunk is also full with community resource packets and fruit snacks. ”
“You didn’t.” Robin sounded accusatory.
“What? I got the organic ones, 100% fruit juice.”
“I told you we couldn’t trust her to be in charge of the treats,” Robin said to Sawyer. “Last year she handed out whole-grain pretzels. The year before that it was yogurt-covered raisins.”
“Kids like fruit snacks,” Gillian defended weakly.
“In their lunch boxes or in place of carrot sticks, but not for Halloween. Halloween is for candy, sugar comas, and debauchery.”