The smile on Fiona’s face, her hand in mine, was one of the best gifts I had ever received. We meandered about, taking everything in before deciding to walk through the maze first. We had made it around a few turns when Fiona surprised me by slipping her hand out of mine to run ahead. Her giggle danced in the air as she disappeared behind a tall wall of corn, and I lost sight of her.
Speeding up, I was grateful that her red hair acted as a beacon among the flaxen surroundings, and I quickly caught up with her. She was breathless and laughing, and I couldn’t resist kissing her. We stayed locked in an embrace, pressed against stalks of corn until neither of us could breathe properly before we broke apart. At a much slower pace, we made our way through the rest of the maze together.
As we sat on a bench, drinking cider and taking bites out of a caramel apple, I watched as a little girl took her younger brother over to the petting area, encouraging him to reach out and feed the goats. Looking back at Fiona, I couldn’t help but picture going back there with our kids, letting them pick out their own pumpkins, their hands sticky with caramel and cider.
Wrapping an arm around Fiona, I pulled her closer into my side, and she rested her head on my shoulder. Places like this have been around forever. I had never given them a second thought. Now, I was dreaming of yearly visits, pony rides for a redheaded girl and face painting for a towheaded boy who looked like me.
After a few hours at the farm, where we wandered around, went pumpkin picking, and ate far too many sugary treats, I corralled Fee into the car. The sun was starting to set, so I drove into a neighborhood that was notorious for their Halloween decorations. It was a well-known competition on Spring Street to see which house outdid the ones around it.
Fee’s delighted gasp and running commentary on all the different houses was proof that it was a worthy detour. I managed to deposit her on my sister’s doorstep just as the clock turned six. Any complaints Charlie may have had disappeared as she took in our cheesy smiles. Fiona kissed me goodbye and then headed inside the house. Before closing the door, Charlie shoved a shirt into my chest.
“Your costume. Make sure you wear it,” she ordered sternly.
With not much to do for myself, I went home and carried in our haul from the farm; two oddly shaped pumpkins that Fiona insisted we get, plus leftover treats. Once inside, I took a quick shower before getting dressed in the shirt Charlie had provided. At a quarter to nine, I decided to head over to the clubhouse.
When I got inside, it was no surprise to see that Reaper and Seph had gone above and beyond when it came to the party setup. They had transformed the main floor of the clubhouse into a gothic ballroom. There wasn’t a bare corner in sight. The walls were covered in a mix of black fabrics, some in heavy velvet others, sheer and billowing.
Dispersed throughout the room were striking arrangements of flowers the color of blood and midnight, while candles floated from the ceiling. More bouquets and skeletons were artfully placed throughout the room.
The shirt Charlie gave me was a simple black tee with the Batman symbol on it. I had it on under my cut, curious as to what it meant for Fiona’s costume. Images of Fee in a Catwoman’s black leather bodysuit flashed through my head, or maybe, she would dress like Harley Quinn or Batgirl. Whatever she wore, I was excited to see her.
Looking around, I was by far the most underdressed partygoer at our table. I was sitting with Reaper and Seph, who were dressed like Bonnie and Clyde. Reaper was holding court in his pinstripe suit, jacket off, but still in his suspenders andfedora. He had a cigar in his mouth and a large prop gun at his side.
As promised, my father was dressed as a pirate. His definition of sexy included a billowy shirt unbuttoned to his stomach, with carefully styled hair and mustache. Let’s not forget his eye patch or the toy parrot on his shoulder.
Mom looked like some sort of sea witch. Her black dress reminded me of something fromPirates of the Caribbean, and her hair was decorated with shells and starfish. She had a belt with a sword on her hip, and was carrying a jug of rum, which both my parents had started dipping into a bit early.
“What a lovely sea witch yer make, me dear. Maybe you’ll let me check out yer lower decks tonight.” Dad waggled his eyebrows at the stairs that led to the bedrooms.
Shaking my head I craned my neck to see if Fiona was there yet. Looking at my watch, it was nearing 9:45 p.m. Charlie promised she would have Fee there by 9:30 p.m. at the latest, and I was growing antsy.
Subconsciously, I stood up to check the door, and a flash of color caught my attention—and most of the room’s—as we all turned toward the entrance to the main room. My sister was dressed head to toe in hot pink with a stuffed Chihuahua in her purse. Next to her was my Fee.
A lot of eyes followed both women as they walked deeper into the room, but all I could see was Fiona. Her bright red hair was pin-straight, falling nearly to her waist in a fiery sheet. The crowd instinctively parted to let them pass. Her dress was short and tight, covered in green sequins.
It was strapless and nipped in at the waist before flaring at her hips. The bottom of the dress caressed the tops of Fee’s creamy thighs, and the heels she had on made her legs look a mile long. I didn’t even realize I was moving, but all of a sudden, I was halfway across the room and pulling her into my arms.
She had her contacts in, and her eyes looked like molten pennies. Her makeup was darker than anything I had seen before, and she had on bright red lipstick that I wanted to smudge with a kiss. Green swirls curled around her arms and neck, up onto her face. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was a vine, covered in poison ivy leaves that had been painted on.
“Don’t ruin her makeup! It took me forever!” Charlie yelled. I ignored her as I claimed Fiona’s mouth, implementing my plan on smudging that lipstick.
“I know that look. Don’t even think about it. I just got here!” Fiona scolded good-naturedly, but I didn’t miss the heat in her gaze and the way she clung to me after that kiss.
By 2 a.m., the party was still going strong, the Brothers and club girls used to long nights. But Fee had trouble keeping her eyes open. Her yawns had grown more frequent, and it was clear she was tuckered out. I pretty much carried her to my room, just helping her out of the dress and shoes before falling into bed beside her. My last thought before succumbing to sleep was how excited I was to spend more holidays with my girl.
I was woken up by a dark figure standing over my bed. Before I could grab my gun, I recognized Scythe, slightly illuminated by the hallway light. Which wasn’t exactly a comforting realization, but at least I knew he wasn’t there to hurt us. Looking at Fiona, he put a finger to his lips before motioning for me to follow him.
He slipped out of the room like a silent spectre as I shoved my feet into boots and pulled jeans and a shirt on. Grabbing my cut, I slipped it on and tucked my gun in the back of my pants. I followed Scythe out and made sure to lock up. He was leaning against the wall closest to the stairwell, waiting for me. As soon as we started down the steps, he began talking.
“Like we discussed, Keys stayed up watching the cameras at Honeys. He saw Ginger procrastinating until everyone was gone, and then got a pretty good shot of her grabbing a big chunkof bills in the back office during cash out. When she left the club, Keys grabbed me, and we went to her apartment. With the amount of money we found, it was enough to motivate her to chat with us,” Scythe said.
Speeding up, we quickly arrived at the paint shop, where Reaper, Crow, and Keys were all awake and waiting. In the center of the room, Ginger’s hands were cuffed behind a metal chair without armrests, zip ties binding each of her ankles to the chair legs. Beside her was a rolling suitcase and duffle bag, both open, with visible wads of cash stuffed into every crevice.
I had known Ginger for almost a decade. She had started as a waitress at Honeys before transitioning to bartending, and eventually, bar manager. I didn’t have a ton of interaction with her, but I was under the impression she was an asset to the club. She was familiar with the guys, knew what it was like at strip clubs, was always pragmatic, and I never heard any complaints about her work. Customers loved her, and she never fought with other employees.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights surrounded by the antiseptic-white walls of the paint shop, Ginger looked much older than her thirty-nine years.Her face was streaked with tears and old makeup as she visibly shook in the chair.
“We caught her trying to leave town early this morning. Once we saw what was in her bag, I thought you might want to say goodbye personally. Now that you’re here, we can start questioning her,” Keys told me, and Ginger looked at him with a mix of anger and fear.
