Page 86 of Hockey Halloween
Lilith
What the fuck was I thinking?
I’m standing at the door to my new boss’s home. I say home, but it’s the biggest and grandest house I’ve ever seen. Towering and sprawling through well-tended gardens.
I landed in Cedar Rapids last night, and before I even stepped out of the airport, one of the de la Penas appeared in the arrivals hall to take me to my new apartment in the city. Come to our Halloween party to meet the team , she’d said.
I’m not really sure if it was a suggestion or a request, but from the firm set of her jaw, and the determination in her eyes, there was no saying no.
Twenty-four hours later, I’m standing in the freezing cold, scratching at the itchy, red wig pinned to my head, and trying not to bolt. Or to pluck the wedgie out from between my ass cheeks.
Although it covers most of my body, this is the most provocative and revealing costume I’ve ever worn for the holiday. Traditionally, I’m more like that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Willow wimps out of wearing a sexy costume and covers herself in a white sheet with eyes instead.
Why did I accept the Pennywise costume from Athena last night before she left? Why didn’t I say, “Thank you for your kind invitation, but I need a few days to find my feet?” Why didn’t I simply say: No.
I ring the doorbell again, the shrill noise echoing around the cavernous space on the other side. There’s a low thump-thud, the bassline of whatever music would be making the glass rattle if the building wasn’t a fortress.
‘No’ is a complete sentence, Lilith. Mom ingrained that in me from a young age, and yet, I’m still standing on the de la Penas’ front porch, dressed as a demented clown, with five bucks’ worth of my costume jammed up my ass.
Footsteps behind alert me to someone’s presence, but I don’t have long to react as I’m shunted forward when they collide with my shoulder.
I reach out to save myself from eating pavement or getting a concussion from one of the fancy pillars outside this mansion, snapping my head toward the offending brute.
He doesn’t even look back before he turns the door handle and makes his way inside.
The giant is at least six feet five, his broad shoulders stretch the blue dress jacket of his ‘Beast’ costume—of Beauty and the Beast fame.
He’s wearing black dress shoes. I hope he slips on those fancy tiles he’s trudging over and goes on his ass.
Didn’t he see me?
Of course he didn’t. Invisible. Plain. Dull. Boring. Bland. Unremarkable—just a few of the adjectives my ex-boyfriend, Johnny, used to describe me over the course of our relationship.
Oh, and his favorite, mediocre.
Sure, from the back I’m wearing a plain, gray dress with a ruffled cream collar and petticoat, so I probably look like ‘the help’ to the Beast, but I’m not a small woman. I take up physical space.
It should come as no surprise that burly bastard didn’t see me as he made his grand entrance to the Cedar Rapids Raccoons’ Halloween party. Because why the fuck would he?
As I stare at the retreating back of the beast, I run through the list of words Johnny called me on the regular.
Forgettable. Lackluster. Tepid. Stale. Lifeless. Colorless. Dreary. Humdrum. Pedestrian. Mundane. Vapid. Insipid. Flat. Listless. Spiritless. Uninspiring. Nondescript. Generic.
“Lilith?” Athena ducks her face in front of mine, like she’s trying to snap me out of somewhere deep inside my own brain. “Are you okay, amiga?”
Her soulful and expressive brown eyes search my face, concern etched in the two lines between her brows and how she purses her lips.
I nod. “I rang but no one answered.”
Athena hooks her arm through mine and guides me into the expansive mansion.
“First rule of de la Pena parties, the bigger ones at least. We operate an open-door policy. If it’s a smaller dinner party, generally that’s a knock and wait kind of situation.
” She leans close to my ear. “And holy sexy Pennywise, Lilith. You look incredible!”
I mutter something about it being due to the costume she gave me as she leads the way through the house.
My mouth hangs open at the expensive but tasteful décor.
On the walls, smiling de la Penas through the ages hang in frames clearly not from the nearest thrift store.
They’re so shiny I could see my face in them if I got closer, and they’re definitely giving ‘money.’
Makes sense. When I first got the call from Apollo de la Pena, I thought he was calling to talk to me on behalf of his parents and their business interests.
Nope. I had no idea how entrepreneurial these ‘kids’ were, or that they were so altruistic.
And now I’m their charity coordinator. This group of four siblings does so much good in the world, they need me to come and coordinate their charity portfolio.
What bizarro world is this?
It’s a fucking great one.
A flash of royal blue catches my attention to the left as we work our way into the kitchen space.
“I’ve got to go check on something, but I’ll be right back, okay?”
I nod, already determined to give Mr. Beast a piece of my fucking mind because, tonight, I’m not Lilith Radcliffe. Boring. Dull. Mousy. My tits are pushed up so high I can rest my chin on them, my skirt barely covers my hoo-ha flaps, and I’m wearing heels.
Tonight, I’m sexy Pennywise. Athena de la Pena said so, and, after being in her presence for a matter of seconds, I already get the impression she’s rarely wrong.
I grab a glass of some kind of murky, glittery cocktail on a passing tray from a server dressed as a zombie, and down it in one go. If I’m going to confront The Beast for body checking me out of the way at the front door, I need some Dutch courage.
I’m in a new city, new state. People back in Montana don’t generally behave like that, and I guess it’s my small-town upbringing that drives me to want to hold him accountable. Because I just can’t seem to let it go.
In my periphery, there’s another flash of the blue jacket, which lights up my insides like I imagine a red flag does to a bull, I grab another drink—a red one this time with a lifeless eyeball floating on the top of it—and stride off to confront the man who needs to be brought down a peg or two.
I find him sitting in a row of chairs. He’s flanked by two friends, and they’re engaged in conversation.
To be honest, I don’t care if the whole house sees me give him a dressing down.
New town, new me. And this Lilith Radcliffe can be whoever the fuck she wants to be. Right now, she wants to be brave.
I stop in front of him and point at his chest. “You owe me an apology.”
He pulls his gaze from the space at his feet and moves it to my body.
Starting at the tips of my shiny, black shoes his appraising gaze slowly moves up every inch of my body, blazing a trail of heat as he stares.
It’s a lazy assessment, deliberate, measured, and patient.
There’s a serious ‘fuck off’ vibe coming from his body, but I won’t be deterred.
Athena appears to my right. “Everything okay here?”
As I turn to her, my drink sloshes over the side of my glass but I’m too wound up to care. I put my free hand on my hip and pop my knee before tossing a hand toward the Beast. I have no idea what he looks like under the mask, but I know he’s an imposing colossus of a man.
“Mr. Beast here owes me an apology.”
The man in question grunts but doesn’t move.
Pirate Queen Athena’s lip quirks, curious questioning lighting up her eyes as she holds up her hands, one covered by a plastic hook. She backs away as though she has no interest in getting between the two of us.
“Well?” I demand of the behemoth. “What do you have to say for yourself?” I tap my foot to signal my impatience, only too aware of the number of eyes currently watching the exchange.
I take it back. I do care if everyone in the world is watching it.
The beast grips the armrests on the chair and pushes to standing. He takes his time, unfurling his oversized body from the seat and straightening his back. I have to crane my neck to look up at him now.
Shit on a stick, he’s a big man.
He tries to palm the back of his neck but is stalled out by the plastic mask covering his head. “I have no idea who you are or why you think I owe you an apology. You must have the wrong man.”
Oh. No, sir, you do not. This isn’t a case of my being mistaken about the identity of the person who wronged me.
The heated blood in my veins changes from a simmer to a boil. I clutch the glass with the floating eyeball in a white-knuckle grip, suck in a steadying deep breath, and toss its contents right at the beast.