Page 10 of Pierced

“Government contracts are government contracts,” Andrew says.

“Andrew?” He looks at me, inscrutable. “Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“Prostrating yourself.”

He pauses and then says, “Yeah, but in a good way. If you do it right.”

And off that bit of what I assume is foreshadowing, I’m gone.

CHAPTER THREE - MYRTLE

Outside the TDH is bustling with people and food trucks. Eden and I stop at one to grab coffee, and then we start strolling. This part of the TDH is mostly office buildings, but a little further north there are tons of shops. All of them remind us that it’s a new season and the holidays are right around the corner.

“So…” Eden says. “The Halloween party. Last year it was stupid. Hardly anyone dressed up. I came as Harley Quinn. God, that part was fun! I wish I was dating Andrew last year. He could’ve been Joker.”

“I have no idea. I take Halloween off every year. Pierce knows this. And yet he came into my office thinking this would get me engaged? Just… God, he infuriates me!”

“Come on.” Eden snorts. “Pierce doesn’t know anything. He pretty much bumbles around from minute to minute like a dog looking for squirrels.”

“True,” I mutter, my attention now on the woman outside the TDH Community Center who is thrusting fliers at unsuspecting pedestrians. That scrapbooking class pops back into my head like a bad acid-trip flashback. I walk faster to get away from her. “But I’ve been his assistant for seven years, Eden. Which means he’s had seven chances to notice. I feel like… like it was all a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t. And he loves you. Everyone can tell.”

“Loves me? How could a man who thinks I’m into Halloween have any feelings for me at all? It makes no sense.”

“Are you sure you’re not into Halloween?”

I huff. “Positive. I hate all holidays. I don’t do Christmas, or Valentine’s Day, or St. Patrick’s Day parades.”

“New Year’s?” she asks.

“No. That stupid midnight kiss. It’s all fake. And even if it wasn’t a new year, I’d despise any day that proclaimed itself dungeon master of resolutions.”

Eden stops walking and squints at me. “Dungeon master?”

“Never mind. Why did we stop?”

“We’re here.”

I look at the shop we’re standing in front of. It’s one of those pop-up seasonal stores with the Grim Reaper painted on the window. He’s holding a sign that says, ‘Party Central.’ “No,” I say.

“Yes,” Eden says, gripping my coat sleeve and tugging me towards the door. “We need to get you into the spirit, so you’re choosing a costume. Besides, we need new decorations. And a theme. We need to pick a theme.”

“Isn’t the theme Halloween? Like what more is there?”

“Oh.” Eden laughs. “Just wait.” She pulls the door open and waves me inside.

I’m just about to make a run for it when the community center lady says, “Classes start soon!” as she thrusts her flier at me.

I go inside before that scrapbooking idea can take root.

“All who enter will die, muah-ha-ha-ha-ha…” the mechanical Dracula spits as I clear a path through fake cobwebs.

“We need one of those,” Eden says.

“Dracula? No. There will be no Draculas at this party. There will be no witches, or goblins, or mummies, either. I do not do haunted houses.”