The King of Halloween, page 10
The bar door swung open, and Adam’s throat dried. Little warning bells told him he needed to be elsewhere, preferably behind a locked door. “Mom, I’ve got to go.” Before she could drag him off to the fireworks, Adam took long strides down the sidewalk.
“He seemed nice.”
His sure steps faltered. “I suppose so.” To those who didn’t know about Raj stealing those masks out from under him, Raj was a perfect gentleman. A man of tender face, warm eyes, and a plump, forceful body below soft sweaters.
“Don’t you think…?”
“Ma, no. Not again. No meddling in my love life, or lack thereof. Please.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I don’t have any grandchildren to dote on.”
“What about my sister?”
His mother snorted at the idea. “Baph’s married to her farm. Remember? It was a lovely ceremony.”
That was a strange day, made all the weirder by the mysterious people in hoods and robes. His sister was a hermit weirdo who preferred to spend her days talking to goats instead of people. Yet he was the threat to society, always on the verge of being shunned and cast out if he didn’t dance just right for their sensibilities.
Looking at his mother, a woman who’d give June Cleaver a run for the Norman Rockwell cup, pain stabbed Adam in the gut. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what, dear?”
“That you’re saddled with two freak children.”
His sweet mother slapped him on the cheek. “Don’t you say that!”
It wasn’t more than a tap, but Adam was shocked. He held a hand over his face while staring in horror at his innocent mother getting angry.
“You are both wonderful children. Delightful, sweet, kind people who I am blessed to have in my life.” Oh, god, tears glittered in her eyes. Adam had felt like shit after his display at the festival, but the idea that he caused his mother to cry made him want to fling himself down a well.
“Mom…” He hugged her as she pressed a tissue to her eyes below her glasses.
“It’s all right, dear. Just, getting myself worked up. I only want you to be happy. As me and your father were.”
The junior college sweethearts who were married for forty-three years. He couldn’t have hoped to compete, even if anyone in high school had wanted to touch him more than it took to shove him into a locker. “Mom, I’d be lucky to have a tenth of the happiness you and Dad did.”
“That Mr. Choudhary seemed quite sweet.”
She got his name right. Adam almost said so, before realizing why she made sure to learn it.
“And he couldn’t stop glancing your way during the competition.” She nudged him as if Adam weren’t well aware.
He couldn’t tell her that they were in some stupid war over Halloween, or the crown, or just trying to be the one accepted gay man in town. That they hated each other and just the thought of Raj made his tongue parch, his fists clench, and his heart beat faster. The thought of him winning, lording it over Adam, leaning close to taunt him until all he could see were those deep brown eyes…
Fireworks exploded. Not the kind from a kiss of rage, but the literal ones. The air burst with sprays of orange and green, trying to form pumpkins in the sky. Adam took a steadying breath to wash away the touch of Raj’s fingers raking over his brain.
“I’m afraid that can’t be,” he said to his mother. She abandoned the spray of color to demand an explanation. “He’s got a partner.”
“Oh.” All of her matchmaking plans died in an instant. Thank god Raj already had that himbo on his arm.
It was a good thing.
Really.
“Now. I need to get back to the store. Lots to prep for tomorrow. Inventory and the like.”
His mom watched him wander off. “Tomorrow’s the market where the kids put on Sleepy Hollow. Will I see you there?”
Every October brought hundreds of engagements for the King of Halloween. Plays, festivals, parades—he used to smile through them all, enjoying it in part because it made him normal. One of them. But the idea of showing his face made his skin itch.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Adam said.
“The pumpkin chucking? There’s a spooky ghost walk around the lake. And I think a haunted picnic…”
His mother kept rattling off events that Adam either didn’t care about or ached to miss. With each one, he shook his head. There was a good chance Raj would be there and, as much as he wanted to be the bigger man, he knew he’d fuck it up. He couldn’t afford another failure. His head was on the line.
“Sorry,” Adam said.
“Well, I know you’ll make the midnight movie, at least. That actor you like, Bruce something, will be there.”
Adam’s heart dropped. The movie marathon—he hosted it every year, as he was the one with the films. He had to spend a night in Raj’s ballroom doing his best to not be both enraged and aroused by the man he could never have.
Putting on his smile, Adam called out, “I’ll see you there.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Gunderson!” Raj tried to leap to the mayor’s side, but the newly polished floors sent him flying. He grabbed onto the post at the last second and swung back around. The guests clapped like he meant for that to happen. “Welcome to the Heartbreak Hotel.”
“It’s amazing what you’ve done with the old trash heap,” the mayor said, gazing at the fountain currently on its clear cycle. When the clock struck midnight, red powder would dump into the water, turning it into blood. Or it should. They’d been having troubles getting the mechanism to work. But that’s what soft opens were for.
“Thank you.” Raj bowed his head, then he scooped up their bags.
The mayor’s wife laughed. “Such service.”
“Only the best at our hotel. You will be staying in the Ambassador suite.” That caused both important people to ooh. The truth was that nearly all of the rooms were the same level of luxurious for the sake of uniformity, but he gave every one a fancy-sounding title to impress people. It seemed to be working.
Raj whistled for the bellhop, a man in pale makeup and fake vampire fangs. As he gathered the light suitcases into the old bag cart, Raj leaned in closer. “Do you know the tale of the countess who stayed in your room?”
“No. Is it a spooky story?” the mayor’s wife asked, her eyes wide like the story must be true.
After glancing to the left and right, Raj leaned in. “She was a widow thrice over, always married to important and wealthy men. The people say she was cursed to lose so many husbands so quickly. And they also whispered how every night her dead husbands would scream out for their Countess. She wore a talisman of pure gold across her neck to protect her from their vengeance.”
“What happened to her?”
Internally, Raj smiled while his face was the picture of concern. “No one knows. Come checkout, she’d vanished. All of her luggage was still unpacked, her things left out, but hanging on the doorknob was her special medallion. When the maid had closed the door, she’d gasped. Etched into the back of the door by fingernails was the black widow’s confession to poisoning all three of her husbands. People say they can hear her mournful wails at midnight, and they might find a gold talisman on the floor beside the bed. Its clasp broken.”
“Goodness gracious. And we’re staying in her room?” She turned pale as a sheet and started to tremble.
“It’s a story, dear. Make believe.” Her husband wrapped a comforting arm around her. “Ghosts aren’t real.”
Smiling widely, Raj handed over the key. “Of course they aren’t. Have a restful sleep. We’ll see you come morning…if you survive.”
He pushed a button on the fob in his pocket, and thunder crashed through the hotel. It caused both the wife and mayor to jump. She laughed nervously while he clung tighter to her hand. “You got me good. This’ll be something else.”
Another terrified and satisfied customer. Raj beamed on the inside while wearing his ‘mysterious innkeeper’ face. The hope was that eventually they’d get someone better suited for this creepy job. But, for now, he’d work in a pinch. Happy with his timing, Raj bent over the huge book. With a quill dipped in red ink, he crossed out the Gundersons.
“How are we looking?” Logan had nearly bitten to the quick on three of his nails.
“That’s the last of them. They’re all in their rooms, snug as bugs. For now.”
“It’s nice to have one thing go right,” Logan muttered.
They’d turned off the bed-shaking for now. At least until they could figure out a way to get it to work without hurling anyone at a wall. They still had the lights and sound effects. A few closet doors were primed to open on their own. It’d be great. “If you’ve got this in hand, I should check on the progress of the haunt.”
There’d been tension between them since the incident at the festival. Logan had at least held off from chastising Raj like a disappointed teacher, but there’d been a lot of talk about skipping the haunt this year. Instead, Raj had sworn to buckle down. No more Halloween events, no teas with vampires, or spooky carriage rides with ghosts. He’d only focus on the hotel and haunt.
With the hotel in swing, Raj reached for his jacket just as Logan finished biting his pinkie nail off. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why? You can handle pushing a few buttons. If anyone is freaked out, we’ve got flashlights and the s’mores cart ready to go.”
“Maybe we should focus on this for tonight. The guys mentioned a dripping in the basement. What if that gets worse? We could flood the place.”
“There’s an old well down there. Just turn on the sump pump. Problem solved.” For every problem here, there were a dozen in the haunt. He needed to spend a few hours trying to get the props he’d spent thousands on to do anything other than stand there looking good.
That was a job Mr. Stein would excel at.
The thought came so quickly despite him not running into that infuriating man for nearly a week. He’d buckled down hard on the hotel and not once wondered what vest was wrapped around that lithe chest. There wasn’t time for any flights of fancy; he had a haunt to get up and running.
“Raj…” Logan pivoted to trail him walking for the door. “Why don’t we let it go this year? It’s already the tenth. There aren’t a lot of days left in October.”
“It’s the principle of the thing. We need to be known as the haunt and hotel. People should be so scared out of their wits that they have to stay the night.”
“How long until it’s up?”
He stared through space, doing his best to not contemplate how much it’d take to get everything running. It should be working by now, but one problem kept leading to another and another until half the power was out. “Soon,” Raj promised. “If anything goes wrong, I’ve got my phone on me.”
Logan dropped his hands and sighed. “I guess I’ll go work on the ballroom. Since we have to host a movie night tomorrow.”
Right. The B-movie fest was on Saturday. Which meant the King of Halloween would be here, lording over the presentation. Probably in a suit coat with tails and a long, skinny tie perfect for rolling around his hand…
Raj slammed the door closed. “I’ll help!” he called out, chasing after Logan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
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.
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?
