Page 9 of Robbin’ the Rich

Holy shit. A slow grin spread across my face before I could stop it.

Oh.

This was either going to ruin my life or become my new favorite hobby.

2

MICAH

Trixie’s parking lot looked like Halloween had thrown up all over it. Fake tombstones lined the sidewalk. Orange lights blinked around the roofline. Someone had dragged a twelve-foot inflatable grim reaper onto the deck like the world’s trashiest haunted house mascot.

The vibes at Trixie’s were always laid-back Rock-n-Roll, but the Halloween party really upped the energy.

I hauled my bass case out of my backseat while the rest of the band argued loudly behind me about whether tequila counted as “hydration.”

“It’s a liquid,” Derek insisted.

“That’s not how alcohol works,” I said.

“Just because you’re dressed like a priest, doesn’t mean you get to judge me.”

I looked down at myself. My costume consisted of black slacks, a black button-up, and a white collar.

It was a pretty lazy costume, but in my defense, I had come up with it during my lunch period yesterday when I found out I’d be filling in. After Nate had asked me, I ran to the pop-up Halloween store to see what I could find. I smiled thinking about it.

There, I had run into a short, round, Scottish woman with wild red hair. She was almost... otherworldly, but maybe that was just because I saw her next to a giant caldron filled with dry ice.

“What is it ye’re lookin’ for lad?”

“I just need a Halloween costume. The easier the better, I’m playing in a band at a party tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I do love Rock-n-Roll.”

“What about this?” she said, handing me a little package with a black button down and the priest's collar.

“It may not be Rock-n-Roll, but I think this is what ye should wear.”

“Yeah, you think I should go full clergy?” I asked the woman.

“I reckon a lot of people have fantasies about defiling a priest, it might end in a fun night,” she said with a Cheshire grin.

I couldn’t do anything but laugh at the bawdy older woman. If she only knew how perfect this was. “Yeah, I think I’ll grab this one.”

That’s how I ended up here dressed as a priest. The irony amused me. Apparently not enough to stop the relentless harassment though. Nate snorted as he grabbed his guitar case. “You know, man, this somehow feels more sacrilegious because of your dad.”

“Former church kid Halloween trauma,” Derek agreed solemnly. “This is his rebellion.”

“My rebellion would be significantly cooler than this.”

“Debatable.”

I flipped them both off automatically and followed them toward the entrance.

I wasn’t even supposed to be playing tonight. I was filling in for their bassist after he had a kid two days ago, which was how Nate had talked me into spending my Saturday night hauling equipment into a packed Halloween bar instead of grading lab reports in sweatpants like a responsible adult.

And honestly? He hadn’t needed to try that hard, because the Grimm Reapers hung out at Trixie’s. Which meant there was at least a moderate chance Robbin’ Banks would be here. Not that I’d rearranged my evening because of a woman who I had never even really talked to. That would’ve been pathetic.

The second we stepped inside, warm air and noise hit me all at once. Trixie’s was packed. Music thundered through the speakers while bodies crowded the dance floor beneath orange string lights and fake cobwebs. A waitress in devil horns weaved through the chaos carrying trays of glowing cocktails. Somebody dressed as Sexy Shrek nearly collided with me near the stage.