One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (27 page)

“I’m your worst nightmare,” Brad said behind
his burned facial mask, spreading his clawed hands at his sides.
“It’s awesome, right?” He poked a few claws into a soiled red and
black sweater before plucking the dark hat off his head. “Check it
out—no hair on top. Incredibly authentic, right?” His mangled mask
curled into a grin.

Marisa’s smile faltered. Her hopes of having
Lauren or Kelsey snapping a picture of her and Brad dressed as one
of the most famous couples in history vanished.

“Please take off the mask.”

He removed it. “What’s wrong?” he asked,
entering her home, placing both hands on her bare arms. “Don’t
worry about the claws, they’re plastic.” He hunched over a bit,
pretending to catch her eyes in a different light, angling to
improve her mood. “I can carve a smile into your face if you’d
like.”

“Not funny. At all. You promised to come as
Mark Antony.”

“It looked all right, but when I tried this
one on, I couldn’t pass it up. Check out these claws.” He slipped
one under her right shoulder strap and slid it onto her upper arm.
“Oops.” He giggled like a little boy peeping through the door of a
girl’s locker room.

She spun around, placing a hand to her
temples. But remembering how she lashed out at Brad the last time
they were together, Marisa reigned in her temper. What did it
matter if she couldn’t have that memory captured for posterity’s
sake? They could have many other opportunities to dress as a famous
couple in the future. Put in that context, now envisioning Freddy
Krueger escorting Cleopatra around a party, she let out a
chuckle.

Brad came up behind her, wrapped his arms
around her neck, and said in her ear, “You have to admit, I look
pretty kick-ass.”

“Pretty? No. Kick-ass? I’ll grant you that
one.”

“Ha.” He pecked her cheek. “Let’s hit the
road, babe.”

Half an hour later, after Lauren opened her
front door dressed as Dorothy from
The Wizard of Oz
, Marisa
hugged her friend, hearing the stereo blasting the Beyonce song
“Single Ladies,” in the background. Although she loved the song,
the message behind it didn’t feel empowering – not when she’d only
moments ago made up her mind to either devote her herself to Brad
by the end of the night—or to let him go forever.

Marisa said, “Is Denny dressing as the Tin
Man, the Scarecrow, or the Cowardly Lion?”

“None of the above.” She welcomed her
inside. “Hi Brad,” she said with only a passing interest. “Come on
in.” She turned back to Marisa. “I couldn’t dissuade him from…” She
looked skyward. “He’s Gollum. From
The Lord of the
Rings
.”

“Really?” Marisa said, laughing at the
idea.

“Hey, it’s better than last year. Remember
Yoda? Jesus! So yes, my better half is…hobbling around wearing only
a brown cloth the size of a stamp to shield the family jewels.”

“A stamp, huh? Oooh, you’re a lucky
girl.”

“Nice,” she said, un-amused. “He got these
really atrocious ears.” She slapped a hand against her
forehead.

Denny, a pale, flabby man wearing a bald
rubber cap with only a few strings of hair plastered to either side
of it, slipped in behind Lauren. “My precccioussss,” he snarled,
revealing a set of fake corroded teeth.

“I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

Marisa laughed at the pair, feeling
fortunate not to have her date dress as a disgusting troll. She
dismissed her earlier annoyance as she took in Lauren and Denny’s
decadent Halloween theatrics: the enormous black spider web hanging
from the ceiling; a trio of skeletons, their arms and legs twisted
in all directions, dangling from a far wall; a couple gravestones
and a duo of gargoyles in opposing corners of the room. Various
other trinkets adorned the walls, tables, and every inch of the
dining room and beyond.

Neither Lauren nor Denny placed great
importance on major holidays, but they went all out on Halloween,
and they preferred indulgence to trivial dramatics. In fact,
Lauren’s interest in Halloween-related memorabilia encouraged
Kelsey to ask her for help in staging both floors of
the
Witching Hour
.

The doorbell rang. As Denny in full-on
Gollum antics tottered over to the door, Lauren turned to Marisa.
“Kelsey’s walking around holding a wooden stake, wearing a tight
tank top with the words, ‘Vampires Suck,’ telling everyone she’s
Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I mean, if you have to tell people who
you are – probably not a convincing costume. Am I right?”

Marisa had to give her that one.

“Take away the stake, the facial cuts and
dark bruises, and she’s just Kelsey the Restaurateur. But I give
her credit: she’s sticking with it.” Lauren grinned. “Did you get
that?” she asked, pretending to brandish a stake, with a stabbing
motion. “S
ticking
with it?”

Marisa shook her head at the appalling
joke.

“Yeah, I should leave now.” Lauren excused
herself to invite the newly arrived guests.

Marisa turned to Brad, but he’d vanished.
She spotted him in another room, drinking beer with a cowboy
wearing a beaten-up hat, suede boots with spurs, and a plastic gun
attached to his holster. Beside them stood a doctor wearing a white
lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. Napoleon, dressed in a
military uniform and wearing black leather boots up to his knees,
waved an ornate hat at guests who passed by.

“Do you think that doctor is wondering how
to fix up Freddy’s face?” Kelsey asked, stepping up to Marisa.

“Oh, hey,” she said, unsure where their
friendship stood. “It can’t be that bad. How’ve you been?”

“Okay,” Kelsey said, raising her stake at a
vampire who crept up on her. “I’ll dust you. And believe me: Mr.
Pointy hurts.” She chuckled as the bloodsucker slinked away,
cowering. “We’re good, right?”

Relieved that her friend was extending an
Olive Branch, Marisa nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.” Unlike many women,
who would hold a grudge or talk about their friends behind their
backs, Kelsey never resorted to such appalling behavior. Her
bluntness rendered those underhanded schemes unnecessary. Everyone
always knew where they stood with her at all times.

“You’re here with Brad?”

Marisa didn’t hear an inflection of disgust
in Kelsey’s voice, so she said, “Yeah, he’s discussing the benefits
of a dermatologist-approved regiment with the good doctor,” she
said, gesturing to Freddy Krueger.

“He’s such a babe magnet,” Kelsey said. “How
do you beat the women away?”

“He lets me borrow the claws. No one would
dare get into a cat-fight with me.” She checked out the action
around them. “Any good-looking men here?”

“One guy dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow
looked pretty hot. But I get the impression that wearing make-up
was not a one-day occurrence for him. There was a zombie that might
be good looking, but he smelled like decay, so again, not sure if
it’s a costume-thing or the real deal. Overall, not a good night
for hunting.”

“This is just a thought, but wielding a
wooden stake might not be the most approachable accessory to
attract men. Vampires looking for a fight? Definitely. Humans? Not
so much.”

“Buffy sure makes it look hot.”

Intrigued by the gay innuendo, Marisa said,
“Maybe I should have asked if there were any good-looking women
here.”

“Funny,” Kelsey said with a straight face.
“But some guys get turned on by a forceful woman. Maybe I’ll meet
one tonight.”

A redhead with lustrous wavy hair under an
enormous purple hat with a big bow on top brushed by. She wore an
elegant white suit with blue pin-stripes and a pendant just below
the knot in her tie. Drawn by Kelsey, she stopped by her. “Are you
here with Angel or Spike?”

Kelsey cracked a smile. “I left the boys at
home to banter about who loved me more.”

“Wise choice. I’m an Angel girl myself.
You?”

“He’s all yours. Spike is picking me up
later.”

“Unbelievable!” Marisa said, amazed that a
show people laughed at could draw such devoted fans.

“I know,” Kelsey said, choosing to
acknowledge the comment as a compliment on how well this visitor
managed to steal the look of Kate Winslet from the movie,
Titanic
. “Everything looks so…perfect. It must have cost a
fortune.” She raised her hand. “Put her there, sister.”

The redhead gave Kelsey a high-five then
drew near. “The truth is: I wear this every year. I just hit
different parties. But I can’t help it. I adore her character. My
name’s Cassandra.”

“Hi, I’m Kelsey.”

Marisa stood in awe of how easily Kelsey
made friends. She had only met Cassandra, and they carried on as if
they’d known each other for years. “Hi, Cassandra. I’ve got to say,
you put Kate Winslet to shame.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Cleopatra. Wait, are
you married at this point? And to whom: Mark Antony or Julius
Caesar? Oh, but I’m guessing they didn’t call each other Mr. and
Mrs. back then. So how should I refer to you?”

“Marisa will do just fine.” Okay, Alex had a
point: she’d forgotten to introduce herself. How embarrassing!

“Whoa,” said Cassandra, removing a fan and
fluttering it near her cheek as she gestured toward the front door.
“Now
he
looks hot in a suit. Even if it’s a Batman suit.
Still hot.”

“Yeah, what is that, synthetic?” asked
Kelsey with a knowing smile. “Rubber? It must get pretty warm in
there.”

“He looks like Alex,” Marisa said, “but his
favorite super-hero is Daredevil, so—”

“Cassandra,” Kelsey said, interrupting her.
“I can introduce you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, I think I’d…wait a minute. Those eyes:
I remember them from…” Her cheeks blazed red. “No, I’d rather
not.”

“Is everything, all right?” asked Marisa,
catching the complete reversal in Cassandra’s demeanor.

She turned her back on Batman, let out a
long sigh, and faced Marisa and Kelsey. “I met him a few weeks ago.
He has magic lips, I swear to God. No guy made me that horny in…I
just met him, but he was so hot that I brought him back to my
place. But once we got inside, I grabbed him toward the living
room, and then out of nowhere: he tells me he’s in love with
someone else.” Her face couldn’t hide the sting of rejection. “I
kicked him out.”

“That’s terrible,” Marisa said, wanting to
lift Cassandra’s spirits. “But he could have lied. Most men
probably would have. You’re probably better off.”

Without knowing it, still lost in the past,
Cassandra touched her lips. “The most amazing…” In a trance, she
stepped away from them, heading into a different room.

“Hey, sis,” Alex said.

Marisa whirled around at the sound of his
voice, only to find Batman standing behind her with a grin.
Although she was touched that Alex followed his heart, rather than
following Cassandra into her bedroom, Marisa wondered why he needed
to enter Cassandra’s home (or kiss her lips) to remember that he
was in love with another woman.

Puzzled by that dilemma, Marisa put her
hands to her temples. “Excuse me,” she said, “I need a few minutes
alone…to get some perspective.”

*

Alex watched her walk away. “What was that
about?” he asked, spinning towards Kelsey.

“Anyone named Cassandra ring a bell? Because
Marisa just met her.”

“Damn. What does she know?”

“Two things: that you’re in Cassandra’s Hall
of Fame for kissing, and that you left her because you were in love
with another woman.”

“Damn.”

“You could say that again.”

“I thought I just did.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Let her cool down. Wait, hall of fame?”

“That’s how Cassandra tells it.”

“Huh.” A smile formed.

Kelsey punched his shoulder. “Cocky doesn’t
look good on you.” She walked away.

He dropped the grin. A minute later, he
caught sight of Freddy Krueger drinking a bottle of beer by
himself. The outfit looked incredibly realistic. Alex strolled over
to him. “Awesome costume.”

“I know, right?” Freddy Krueger held out a
hand for a fist bump.

Alex knocked fists with him.

“Old-school Batman. Nice. Leave the codpiece
for a second-rate Gotham crime-fighter, am I right?”

“You know it.” Seeing another person with an
elaborate costume, Alex thought about his ride over here: only
after getting into his car and pulling into traffic did he realize
how bizarre he looked. At stop lights, boys and girls spotted him
and hopped up and down on their car seats, hollering and pointing
at him
(“It’s Batman!”).
Their parents, after shouting at
them to quiet down, saw Alex and smirked, only to take out their
cell phones and snap a picture.

“You drive over in that?” Alex asked.

“Sure did. The best part? I’m sitting at a
stop light: you get little kids who’ve never seen Freddy, so I
raise my claws, and growl like I’m gonna claw their faces off.” He
giggled with maniacal glee. “You should have seen them. Hysterical
with fright. Such a riot. Wish I could wear this every day of the
week.”

“What’s stopping you?” He disliked the man’s
juvenile behavior, and he found the right tactic to get
payback.

Freddy acknowledged the point by raising his
bottle. “You’re on to something, buddy.” He extended a hand. “The
name’s Brad.”

Since Alex hadn’t heard Brad’s voice often,
considering that they rarely talked, he hadn’t recognized that the
head-banger stood before him until now. Besides, Marisa said Brad
planned to dress up as Mark Antony, so how could he have known that
he’d willingly stopped over to chat with him?

“I’m Alex.” Brad hadn’t retracted his hand,
either preoccupied or too absent-minded to combine the name with
his tone. Rather than point out the obvious, Alex decided to have
some fun and see how long it took Brad to figure things out,
figuring that a conversation about the stock market might drive the
point home.