Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (87 page)

“Stephen!” Allie exclaimed, turning away. Josh would have, too, but the whole scene was so bizarre that it was fascinating. Like he was in a reality show he hadn’t sign up for. Luckily, it turned out that Seven was wearing a pair of white boxers that had the word “No” stamped all over them. Which only added to the weird factor.

Seven finished by tugging his shirt up over his head. “I just need a shirt.”

The attendant put her hand out for cash. Seven turned to Josh. “Can you front me, man?”

Something about pulling his wallet out again settled him down. His lips felt like they might actually work.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look,” Seven said, “The club fills with glow-in-the-dark foam up to our necks, then drains out. The foam sticks to us, creating the most killer effect ever.” His friend cocked his head. “Do you really want to go home all foamed up do you?” After Josh shook his head, Seven continued, “So we get a new set here.”

That made sense. In a very, very convoluted way.

“You couldn’t have warned us?” Josh demanded of his friend.

“Like you would have come if I had,” Seven said rolling his eyes.

True. Josh couldn’t argue that point. Instead, he looked to Allie. “We don’t have to do this.”

Really
.
We don’t
. Josh wanted to add. He perhaps had never wanted out of a situation more than he wanted out of this foam party. Seven had raved about how “off the hook” this party was, but Josh clearly had not understood the full extent.

Allie though, gulped. “You’ve already put out a hundred…”

“The money doesn’t matter,” he reassured her, keeping that “s” in check. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Or for him to have to strip, but he couldn’t say that. Not out loud. Not with Seven right there. Stephen was his friend and would never talk smack about him, but Seven? Well, Seven would probably tell the whole school if Josh pussied out right now. He needed Allie to refuse so that he could walk out of here, his head held high, acting the gentleman.

Unfortunately, Allie looked to Stephen, who by now had pulled on a white tee-shirt. She turned to the attendant. “Do you have bottoms?”

The woman just gave her a “duh” look.

Allie gulped again. “We’ve come this far?”

Her eyes scanned his face. If it had been anyone else, he would have just urged them to leave, but Allie seemed to be getting into the spirit of the foam party. How could he refuse her?

Josh opened his wallet again. “So how much?”

The attendant pulled down another tee shirt and white jeans. “For you plus the other shirt it will be sixty five.” Then she grabbed a rather short skirt and tank top. “For her, a hundred.”

Allie held up the skimpy top. “How can this be more expensive? There’s like a quarter the fabric.”

“Yeah,” the attendant said. “You’ll pay more for clothes and get paid an average of seventy percent of what a man makes. Get used to it.”

“This is really expensive,” Allie said.

That could have been his out, but he couldn’t pay the broke card. Not when he had the money. “We said it was going to be a night to remember, right?” He pulled out his last two hundred dollar bills. “No change, again?”

The attendant shrugged a shoulder. “What can I say, policy.”

There went three hundred bucks in the space of a few minutes. His dad would kill him—well, more likely sit him down for a “talk” that included graphs and charts regarding fiscal responsibility, and his mom? Oh my gosh his mom would just tear up and go off to bake a pie or something.

As Josh handed the money over, he looked to Seven. “We will never discuss how much this cost. Ever.”

“
Whatevs
,” Seven said, tearing at the hem of his shirt, ripping it diagonally.

Allie gathered the clothes to her chest. “Is there a changing room?”

The attendant just gave her that look. At a foam party? A changing room, really?

“Allie, man,” Seven implored. “
Be
.
Cool
.”

“Stephen, don’t you —”

“Agh!” his friend exclaimed. “It is
Seven
. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He turned to the attendant. “Right? Tell them I’ve got a rep.”

The attendant held out her hand. Seven looked to Josh but he was tapped out. With a heavy sigh, his friend dug around in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of crumpled bills. Josh noted they were all ones. Seven counted them off into her hand for a grand total of seven bucks. However, the woman was not satisfied until his friend fished around and emptied out all the change in his pockets into her palm.

“He has a rep,” she said with a monotone, then went back to texting.

“Oh, come on,” Seven implored, but the woman ignored him. He turned to Allie. “You heard it, though. A rep, so get busy and strip.”

CHAPTER 3

Allie froze in place. She’d felt certain that Josh would pull the plug on this whole foam party thing. She wasn’t about to show off what a stick-in-the-mud she was. But now the moment of truth was here and she couldn’t do it. He’d spent three hundred dollars. Practically half of Allie’s rent, and she was going to chicken out. Josh would never speak to her again.

“Here,” Josh said, taking off his jacket and holding it up. “I promise we won’t peek over.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seven argued.

Allie shot him one of her mother’s “do not test me” looks. The teen went back to customizing his shirt. Before she could think further, she pulled her turtleneck off and threw on the tank top.
Backwards
. Shimmying, she got the dang thing aligned properly. Or at least as properly as she could. Her bra straps stuck out like a sore thumb. Why of all nights did she decide to wear her hot pink one?

“Okay, ready for the bottoms.”

Josh lowered the jacket. For a just a moment his eyes dilated at her top, then he blushed and looked away. Well, at least there was that. Allie was beginning to worry that Josh didn’t bat for her team. Half the girls at school either thought he was gay or were in line to help show him why he shouldn’t be.

Unzipping her skirt, she let the thick fabric drop to the floor, then hurried into the mini-skirt. Make that a micro-skirt. A Snookie-inspired number. There would be no bending over tonight.
None
.

Her skin felt so exposed. It wasn’t used to so much air-time. Heck, she slept in pajamas. The only time she was this uncovered was in the shower, and even then she rushed through it.

Making sure the skirt was tugged down as low as possible, Allie came out from around the jacket. She took the garment from Josh. “Your turn.”

However Seven snatched the jacket away. “Please, he’s a dude. It’s just like a locker room, only with hot chicks watching.”

Josh’s eyes darted back and forth. Allie made another grab for the jacket, but Seven skipped out of reach. She gave Josh a sympathetic grin. “I’ll look away.”

“I won’t,” the attendant chimed in. Great time for her to take a break from texting.

Allie averted her eyes as she heard the rustle of clothes coming off.

Then Seven barked a laugh. “Oh man! Tighty whities? Tell me it’s not true.”

She couldn’t help it as her eyes darted over just in time to see the stark white cuff of the briefs disappear behind the white pants.

“What were you thinking?” Seven demanded.

“Probably that his pants weren’t coming off tonight,” Allie retorted.

“Thanks,” Josh said. “I think…”

Oh crap. Allie hadn’t mean to imply…. Well, she wasn’t sure what she had meant to imply and what she hadn’t. Before she could open her mouth, Josh turned to the attendant.

“So, any more costs before we go in?”

“To get inside the club? No,” the purple haired chick said. “To store your clothes?
Yes
.”

Josh groaned next to Allie. “How much?”

“Just five bucks,” the attendant said sounding almost chipper.

“And none of that forty-five bucks I overpaid counts?”

With false sympathy the attendant shook her head. “Sorry. Strictly
a la carte
.”

Josh dug around in his wallet, he pulled out a folded bill. It looked like his emergency twenty.

Allie cut him off, though. “I’ve got it.”

She handed the attendant the five her mother had given her. She was glad that it was being put to use. “Here you go.” The woman looked at the small bill in her hand and frowned. “Sorry. No tip this time.”

The cash disappeared as the attendant urged them to the far wall. “Alright. No allergies to latex, right?”

Allie glanced to Josh, who seemed equally confused by the question. “No, not that I know of.”

“Good,” the attendant stated flatly. “Time to get painted.”

“Painted?” Allie and Josh exclaimed at the same time.

* * *

Stavros came to a stop as Keaton pulled out the largest key ring in history and got a key out to show off one of his “Mickeys.” Micro-businesses. Whatever. Stavros had come to see the X.

“This is the lab, then?”

“No,” Keaton said, “But soon, man, soon. They are cooking up a fresh batch for you.”

He had heard this excuse since entering the house. Keaton somehow thought that rinky-dink businesses set up in every room of the house was cause for celebration…and investment.

“You’re skeptical,” Keaton said. An understatement. Although Stavros had to give the guy credit, he seem aware of it as he continued. “How could my micro-businesses possibly live up to as much hype as I’m giving them, right? But, hey, you’ve got nowhere better to be for the moment, and this could be the business opportunity of a lifetime.”

As he tried several keys to find the right one, Keaton did not seem able to help himself from pitching. “And the whole thing is run off solar panels and an ancient windmill. We are totally off the grid here! But why am I talking?”

Stavros just stared at him for a second. “Seriously? You want an answer?”

“Ha. Very ha. You’re funny. No, what I’m saying is, rather than talk at you about how, I should be showing you.”

Apparently Keaton had intended on a large flourish as he opened the door. Unfortunately, the Hello Kitty key was not a match either. Several awkward moments later, Stavros realized why this seemed so off.

“Why are there locks on the
outside
of the doors?”

“You mean, the anti-fraternizing devices?” Keaton asked as he tried yet another key.

Stavros almost didn’t want to ask, because then Keaton would have an opportunity to answer. “Anti-fraternizing devices?”

“Yeah, I can’t have them room cross-pollenating. They need to keep their heads in the game. Focused on their specific Mickey.”

“Ah,” Stavros said, wishing just for a moment that he was a building inspector and could have had the ability to shut this place down.

Unfortunately, Keaton took his answer as encouragement. “I knew we’d get each other. You and me, we’re businessmen.” Stavros refrained from saying what popped into his head at that moment. Not that Keaton would’ve noticed. “We don’t let outward appearances deceive us. We’re all about moving forward. Never stopping. Like sharks. We stop, we die.”

Dying. Yes. That was working its way up the scenarios here.

Keaton finally found the right key and unlocked the door. “Ta da!”

Stavros stepped into the small room that did not seem quite as exciting as Keaton had implied. As a matter of fact, it was furnished with only a small table and four chairs for a clutch of middle-aged women. The group was busy sorting flyers, stuffing them into envelopes, moistening the glue, sealing them up and stamping them with the postage. It was quite the assembly line.

A sad, pathetic assembly line.

“Envelope stuffing. For just seven hundred and eight four dollars you can get in on this cutting edge Mickey.”

“Who in the word still uses snail mail for their advertising?” In a world of the Internet and Facebook, this seemed antiquated.

“Republicans, dude. The RNC. They’re so old school I swear they’ve got velociraptors running their offices.” Keaton chuckled, then winked at Stavros. He actually
winked
at him. “And for guys that come across as so cheap, they have
no
idea what things should cost. I’m making bank in here. Seriously. And you could join me for such a minimal investment of less than eight hundred bucks.”

Stavros allowed himself to be led from the room. The entire setup simply boggled the mind. “How much do you pay them?”

“Pay?” Keaton snorted. “That’s the best part. Most of the Mickeys run off of barter.”

“Barter?” Again, Stavros wished he had just kept his mouth closed.

“Have you seen the unemployment stats?” Keaton asked. “People out of work for over two years. Their benefits long gone? So sure, people will work for food. What do you think I’m using the kitchen for? Self contained, baby. Self contained.”

Keaton locked the door behind them and moved them on to the next door. “Then you’ve got the meth addicts. They come in high as a kite to work, but they work straight though. Downside? They crash for few days, so we’ve got them on a three day on/two day off work week.” Keaton shrugged. “You’ve got to roll with it. Like, the guy who runs my animal porn sites just wants his Cheesy Puffs. So he gets Cheesy Puffs. Well, not the brand name. The stuff from the knockoff at Costco.

Stavros nodded on reflex, then rewound the last part of the conversation. “Wait. You do bestiality porn in here?”

“Dude. No. That would be sick. It’s
animal
porn. As in porn for animals? You know, like dog on dog action. Cat on cat. Some interspecies stuff for the more discerning pet.”

Stavros could not keep the shock out of his voice. “People pay for that?”

“Uh, yeah.” Keaton appeared confused at Stavros’ obvious skepticism. “Dude, people buy filet mignon for their rescue mutts. You think they’re not gonna spring for some satisfaction for their little poochies? And not just that. I’ve got horse breeders that swear by my equine page.”

Stavros put a hand over Keaton’s. “I think I get it. I don’t need to see it in person.”

“But man, for just twelve hundred dollars you could —”

“I said, move on.”

With a sigh, Keaton pulled the key out of the lock and took him down the hall. Thankfully. Stavros had seen much in his career, but that room? That room he feared could give him nightmares for weeks.