“Condoms aren’t green.” Just taking a stab in the dark at that one, but I don’t dare leton.
That arrogant smile of his pumps across his face. “Sweetie, when you need the hefty size, theyare.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes at the blatant exaggeration as if it were oh-so-ridiculous, but my face heats like a raging bonfire just thinking about Brody’s obscenely oversized man parts. “I bet that’s the real pickle. And I bet it’s green, too!” I’m suddenly very, very hungry for a big, fat pickle—one of those vulgar ones you get at thefair.
He frowns while tossing a handful of plastic spiders into my hair. “Wouldn’t you like to findout?”
A squeal of delight burns from my throat as I give him a playful shove. “You wish!” Brody has always had the ability to see through people—through me. Colby and I used to call it his superpower, and right about now I hate it. “Face it, Animal. You’re beneathme.”
“I’ve always known it.” He slings his arm over my shoulders, and we stand back admiring our hauntedhandiwork.
Brody grunts with approval, “It truly looks like the scariest place onearth.”
“You know what’s really scary?” I lean in and scratch his chest, and for a moment it feels as if we’re a couple. “That ode to once-upon-a-boxer-briefs you have creating a mountain in the laundry room. And don’t get me started on the fact it makes my eyeswater.”
“Honey, my boxers followed your thongs. Lex was right when she said you tossed them around likeconfetti.”
“Yeah, well, leave them alone. And if I catch you sniffing a pair, I’ll have to burn the house down with you init.”
He rumbles out a laugh and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Is that my scary bedtime story for thenight?”
“Oh,sweetie”—I toss the moniker right back at him—“the frights that this night hold are just getting started.” And with that, we army crawl our way under the webbing and get dressed to impress, depress, and stress out themasses.
I’m about to put a howl inHalloween.
The Sloppy Pelicanhas been adorned with its own meager decorations. Pumpkins and ghosts abound, nothing too grizzly, and for sure not a single plastic spider has meandered into the establishment. I ended up driving over with Brody since I abhor driving on All Hallows’ Evil more than just about anything. It’s a hodgepodge of drunk drivers, moms hopped up on sugar, and an entire obstacle course of chocolate-seeking trick-or-treaters. The roads are the real fright. And secondly, I insist on keeping an eye on my man, because if he’s about to break his sexual fast, I would wager it would be tonight—what with all the slutty costumes that are sure to magically surface at the bar. I’ve seen the way the girls circle him like vultures. There is a blonde who’s shown up every day this week and sat alone at the bar just watching him like a fucking stalker. I’m about to brass knuckle her in the bathroom the next time we’re alone. As if she even stood a chance. Despite her use of guerilla warfare tactics to get Brody’s attention, she’s rather soft-spoken. I’ve heard her share a story or two with Mojo—myotherman. Him, I couldn’t care lessabout.
“You sure you don’t want to borrow my jacket?” Brody asks for the nineteenth time. I’m already nursing my second Shirley Temple at the bar, and the night seems to be dragging abit.
“No, thanks. What time is Mojo getting here, anyway? My tickler is getting lonely.” I give a sly wink, and he groans as if he might be physicallyill.
“He’ll be here. Any minute.” He gives me a dirty look that only borders on playful as he heads to the other end of the bar. No sooner does he start mixing a cocktail than the aforementioned blonde skank files on in dressed in a ridiculous full-length ball gown with a seven-foot hooked staff in her hand. The better to snag herman.
I laugh out loud at the sight of her, and in the mother of all horrors, she gives me a brief wave and takes a seat besideme.
“I’m Jessie.” Her sugary sweet country twang isn’t lost on me. Sure, she sounds sweet, but I know what’s happening in that twisted fairy-tale mind of hers. I bet she’s already had Brody ten ways to Sunday in that dark fantasyland taking place in there. “I’ve seen you around so much I feel like I know you. What’s yourname?”
“Raven,” I belt it out like a threat. “So you’re a Wolf Man fan.” I nod over to Brody who happens to be sporting a football jersey, his costume of choice since the twelfth grade. After the pickle fiasco, he’s played it safe eversince.
“Are you kidding?” She chortles herself into a Brodygasm. “Who isn’t? I’ve heard he’s pretty easy to land horizontal, but for whatever reason I can’t even get him to notice me. I’d die if he picked me to go home with him tonight.” She looks to the ceiling, and you can practically see the sinister stars dancing in her eyes.Bleh.
Brody starts to head on over, and his eyes grow wide as he stops in his tracks. It looks as if our stalker here has let him in on her true intentions. I’ve seen that look on that boy’s face. Brody Wolf wants nothing more than to run to his mommy. This girl has him scared out of his ever-loving mind and not in a goodway.
“Hey, Brod”—I wave him over—“have you met Jessie here? She’s lost her sheep and doesn’t know where to find them. Hey! Maybe they’re in yourpants?”
He glowers at me a moment as if he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck, and I can’t help butchuckle.
Mojo hops behind the bar and is quick to tie on an apron. No costume as far as I can tell, but he’s scary enough as it is. Halloween is sort of an ongoing event with thatman.
Brody’s face ignites with a greasy grin. “Well, look who just showed up? Mojo, have you met Jessie? She’s looking for her sheep, and I’d swear you’ve got one running around somewhere on that body ofyours.”
Mojo grins so wide you can see those golden canines of his. And trust me, they are purely there for vanity. This boy knows his scare tactics, and he’s got all the bad boy bases covered. I’d bet good money he’s got a piercing where needles should never venture togo.
“Honey”—he leans in toward Jessie, and she leans back just the same—“I’ve got an animal or two, but it’s up to you to find ’em.”
Both Jessie and I giggle like smitten schoolgirls, and Brody actually looks pissed by the effort. It looks like Brody Boner Wolf doesn’t care for another male creature to hole up in his den. How about that? Maybe he is into me after all? Or worse, he’s got a hankering to play the part of naughtysheep.
All night I watch Brody move from one customer to the next while doing my best to strike up a conversation with Mojo the Mad Tatter. And all night Brody Wolf shoots beams of genuine hatred my way—okay, so that’s a bit dramatic, but he is certainly not happy. Disdain is his middle name, andsatisfactionwould bemine.
