On second thought….
I pushed back a smile and wove through the crowd to get to the door. Once there, I explained the situation to my cousin.
“Sure,” she said, taking a twenty-dollar bill from a guy dressed as Gomez Addams. The Morticia with him was pretty amazing, and I wondered how much competition Gomez was going to have when it came to getting Morticia out on the dance floor. “People are always going in and out, so the building’s never totally at capacity. I’ll sneak him in. Where’re you sitting?”
I pointed at the table where Adam and Sydney sat, my empty chair between them. “Send him over there.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks!”
After that I turned and walked a few steps, then had to pause as the group of ghostbusters cut in front of me, clearly heading for the bar. Once the way had cleared, I began to move forward again, only to freeze as I came face to face with a tall man all in black, his face partly shaded by the wide-brimmed black hat he wore. Even the mask covering the upper half of his face couldn’t hide the lean, handsome features, the sensual mouth.
My brain sort of registered that he was dressed as Zorro, just as I also realized I was blocking his way.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, moving to the side so he could continue on his path.
“I’m not,” he said with a smile.
Right then I was glad Sydney had talked me into wearing that flashy dress, because from what I could see, the stranger’s expression was more than a little admiring.
The moment passed, though, and he just sort of nodded and kept going, clearly headed toward a table that had several other guys and a few girls seated at it. They all looked to be around my age, maybe a few years older. I didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t surprise me much. The Jerome Halloween dance was advertised all over the state, and we had people driving in from Phoenix and even Tucson to attend. The town’s B&Bs were generally booked on this weekend up to six months in advance.
Somehow I kept myself from staring at the stranger, though, and went on to sit back down at my own table. I plopped into my chair and reached for my glass of wine.
“Did you take care of it?” Sydney asked. It was a little quieter right then, as they’d turned off the canned music. I saw the band starting to walk onstage.
“Yes.” Then I leaned in close to her and hoped Adam wasn’t eavesdropping. “I just saw the hottest guy.”
“You did? Where?”
I lowered my voice further. “A few tables over to the left…the Zorro.”
At least she’d mastered the art of the casual over-the-shoulder glance. I doubted Adam could even tell what she was doing. She leaned in close to me immediately afterward and said, “Holy crap. You weren’t kidding. Are you going to ask him to dance? You have to — your costumes are perfect together!”
“I-I don’t know. Maybe.” I didn’t think I was brave enough for that. Yes, this wasn’t the Victorian era, and there certainly was nothing wrong with going up to a guy and asking him to dance, but…. I risked a quick look of my own in the direction of the table where Zorro sat. It was hard to tell whether he was with any of the girls in particular or whether they were just a group of friends who’d come to the dance together.
“Something interesting over there?” Adam asked, craning his own neck.
“No — I was just looking to see whether Aunt Rachel had shown up yet.”
Since that was a perfectly plausible explanation, he just said, “Oh,” and returned to his beer. And whether my little lie had manifested her presence or she’d just shown up at that particular moment, I actually did see her walk in the door a few seconds later, followed by Tobias. At least, from his height I assumed it was Tobias. He was dressed in black hooded robes and carried a scythe. I hoped he didn’t give her a heart attack when she opened the door and saw him in that getup.
She appeared to spy us and gave a little wave, and I grinned back. Behind her, the Grim Reaper lifted his scythe in greeting. Sydney saw where I was looking, noted Tobias’s costume, and said, “Well, that’s cheery.”
“But comfortable.”
“True. I doubt the Grim Reaper has his feet shoved into four-inch stilettos.”
“You could’ve worn something lower.”
“But these ones matched my dress.”
I couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, Lara, the lead singer for the band — not a McAllister, or a witch, but a longtime Jerome resident and someone who knew the score and wasn’t fazed by it — had just stepped up to the mic.
“Hello, Jerome!” she called out, and the crowd started clapping and cheering. “Are you ready to get this party started?”