Page 40 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)
Natalie
Another week later…
Halloween Night
I ’m finishing my third apple cider and vodka of the night when “Monster Mash” starts blaring over the speakers.
I’ve always loved this song, but hearing it sung loudly by this particular group of beauties and literal beasts is a whole other vibe.
The stacked empty glasses and beer bottles clink against each other on the tray I’m carrying, and I worry I’m about to be surrounded by broken glass, which would be a catastrophe, and I’m already in a sour mood.
Halloween in Mapletown isn’t like Halloween anywhere else. Since the town is filled with monsters, most people don’t wear costumes here. The attire is closer to New Year’s Eve, or a wedding, where the dress code is black tie optional, and if you decide to wear a costume, fuck it, that’s okay too.
However, there are still buckets of candy in the center of every table, and at each end of the bar, because, as Dominic says, “We may be monsters, but we’re not cruel.
” There are autumn-themed cocktails that Rizlan made up, and he, Vyla, and Dominic are behind the bar pumping them out at record speed.
I’m wearing my fanciest dress, an A-line orange chiffon dress with little white flowers all over it.
A white petticoat beneath it makes my skirt puffy, like the 1950s spit me out in the middle of the forest just for this grand soirée.
I also have a white faux-fur shrug in my cubby in the back room, but it’s way too hot to wear it in here.
The crowd is thick, and the bodies in here are sweaty as they move together in raucous glee to every Halloween-themed song Vyla put on her party playlist.
I volunteered to bus the tables, since it allows me to keep my body moving while minimizing the possibility for socializing. Not that I find talking to the Mapletown residents a chore under normal circumstances, but my heart is still in a million pieces, and I’m just not in the mood.
That doesn’t seem to stop the eager demon––Fitz, maybe?
Or Ferris? Something with an F––from following me around the dance floor like a lost puppy and peppering me with the basic rundown of first date questions.
The fact that I’m working doesn’t seem to slow him down.
He’s nice, I guess, but that’s all. Everything about him is nice.
Nice face. Nice eyes. Nice hands. Nice height. But I feel nothing.
I can’t stop thinking about Winston. My grumpy ghost and his obsession with bookmarks.
His intensely green eyes, bizarrely different shades based on his mood.
They were dark when I first met him, a deep hunter green.
Toward the end of our time together, however, they were more of a rich, sparkly emerald.
Why did he end things between us? It still doesn’t make sense to me. The sharp turn from constantly hovering around me to the chill in his voice when he reduced what we had to a fling that could go no further, I can’t figure it out. What the hell happened?
And why the fuck hasn’t he called or texted me to apologize?
Though, he did warn me that he’s an asshole, did he not? I guess I should’ve believed him.
I sigh wistfully, but Fitz/Ferris doesn’t notice. “Are you close with your parents?” he asks.
It’s an innocent question, but I’m in no condition to spew the whole sad story of how my dad left when Mom was pregnant, how I never met him, or how I lost Mom to cancer just a few months ago to him right now, nor am I interested in picking that scab. I’m barely holding it together as it is.
“I’ll be right back. Bathroom break. Maybe I’ll catch you later,” I tell him with a tight smile as I drop my tray on the bar and head to the restroom.
Inside, I find Mayor Crane, her chief of staff, Ezra, and Vyla huddled in the corner and passing around a fat joint. The skunky smell of weed fills the air, and I let my nose carry me closer, silently begging for a contact high to lighten my mood.
“She tasted like an orange creamsicle,” Vyla says with an unhinged giggle. “Are you sure your mom had nothing to do with that?” she asks the mayor. “Are you sure sure?”
“Yes, Vyla, I’m sure,” the mayor replies in a serious tone, but grinning widely. “The flavor spell was for peens only. That’s not something I would’ve forgotten, considering she cast it when I was thirteen.”
My ears perk up. “Flavor spell?”
“Natty!” Vyla shouts, as if just noticing me. “When did you get here?”
Ezra exhales a cloud of smoke from the side of their mouth, looking very much like a pirate. “She’s been here for twenty minutes.”
“More like two,” I clarify.
Ezra looks down at the joint in their hand, eyes wide. “Shit, this is good weed.”
Mayor Crane takes a puff, then coughs several times. Once her airways are clear, she says, “We’re talking about the flavor spell my mom cast when she was mayor. Vyla’s trying to convince me ,” she turns to Vyla, “who was in the room when she recited the spell, what was said, but she’s wrong.”
“Huh. What was the spell for?”
Vyla chuckles. “You don’t know?”
I smirk. “I might,” I say, licking my lips at the memory. “But I want to be sure.”
Vyla starts telling the story, but the mayor interrupts her, insisting she can tell it better.
“My mom is and always has been a staunch defender of women’s rights.
Huge feminist. She was an activist, bra burner, protest marcher, etc.
The lack of equal rights in this country appalled her, so when she was elected mayor, she used what power she had over this tiny scrap of hidden land, and…
leveled the playing field, in her own unique way. ”
Ezra and Vyla are practically cackling, pride and admiration shining in their eyes.
Mayor Crane looks amused as she shakes her head. “The spell she cast makes every penis within the town borders taste like the favorite ice cream flavor of the person sucking on it.”
My mouth waters as my jaw drops, and I come close to drooling on the bathroom floor. “That’s why!”
Vyla points and laughs at me. “Ahhh, our little Natty has had a taste!” Despite knowing the owner of the penis I’ve tasted, and being high off her ass, she doesn’t mention his name, which I appreciate. “What did it taste like?”
I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Salted caramel.”
“How is your mom these days?” Vyla asks the mayor. “I feel like it’s been ages since she came to visit.”
“That’s because it has been ages,” she replies. “Both of them are in Amsterdam at the moment. They’ve been there for most of the year. Not sure where they’ll head next. Maybe to see Uncle Henrik.”
Did I hear her correctly? “Moms?”
Ezra nods. “She has two of them. Ursula and Tova.”
“Quite possibly the two coolest names I’ve ever heard,” I tell the mayor. “I’ve never heard the name Tova before.”
Mayor Crane takes another puff and adds, “It’s a Swedish name.”
“Yup,” Vyla says, “the most powerful witch in Mapletown fell in love with a Swede.”
“My grandparents were not happy, but my mom never gave a shit about the opinions of others, so that didn’t stop her.”
“Good for her,” I reply, envious. If I weren’t such a people pleaser, maybe my whole life would’ve turned out differently. Maybe I’d be happier, or at least in less pain.
My stomach aches from laughter by the time I leave the bathroom. It’s a good feeling that gives me hope. That maybe, someday, the sharp soreness in my chest will dull, and I’ll be able to smile regularly again.
I make my way toward a messy table with a handful of empty cocktail glasses.
Before I reach it, a hand wraps around my wrist. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Lindsay standing there, for once the most underdressed person in the room, wearing jeans with a hole at the knee and a green hooded sweatshirt.
She chews on the inside of her cheek, looking more nervous than I’ve seen her in years.
Lindsay Abbadelli is not a nervous person.
When she enters a room, she commands it. Not this time, though.
“Linds. What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Nat,” she says, her voice timid. “Can we talk? Outside maybe, where it’s not so loud?”
I nod, my stomach twisting anxiously as I let Dominic know I’m stepping out for a minute.
When I find her outside, she’s standing on the edge of the parking lot. I’m not sure why. She’s not even near her car. I look at her, glancing around. Puzzled. “What’s up?”
The air is chilly, and even without a steady breeze, goose bumps race across my bare skin.
It’s about forty-seven degrees, and the skies are clear.
Perfect Halloween weather. I wonder if the kids of Mapletown still go trick-or-treating.
Do they wear costumes? Or child-size formal wear? Oh my god, how cute would that be?
Lindsay lets out a heavy breath, pulling me back to the here and now.
“First, I want to apologize to you, for so many things.” She holds out her fingers, counting.
“For losing touch with you over the last few years, for not being there when Rita was near the end…” She huffs a shallow breath, as if she’s in the middle of a cardio workout.
“For projecting my bullshit when I forced a sleepover with you out of the fucking blue,”––another quick breath––“and most importantly, for meddling with you and Winston. I never should’ve pressured him to back off, and I never––”
“Excuse me?” I jerk back, hands suddenly shaking. I had no idea she spoke to Winston. The events over the last month suddenly become crystal clear. I step toward her, an unfamiliar sensation growing in the pit of my stomach. “You pressured him? What did you say?”