Page 8 of One Killer Night
I grin, filling little pumpkin buckets with candy bars before I walk up my stairs.
Chase steals a candy bar, rips the package open, immediately takes a bite, and talks with his mouth full.
“Bro, hot girls wear nurse’s outfits. And cats, as previously stated. Even princess costumes with those garters. Gahhh, fuck me,” he moans, his eyes rolling back. “Those are the best. What they don’t wear is dinosaurs. She’s a total red flag. That girl reads books and is probably up on current affairs. And those girls definitely don’t make out in the bathrooms of dirty bars.”
He’s literally hopeless. There’s a reason—maybe several—why he never gets a date.
“You’re depraved. You know that, right?”
He follows me inside the house as I toss the candy on a table by my front door. Anticipating the sarcasm I know is dying to spill out of him, I beat him to the punch. “The one thing I know in life is ‘hot’ is easy to achieve. ‘Interesting,’ though ... Well, that’s way harder. And man, was she interesting.”
Chase flops down on my couch, kicking his feet up on the ottoman.
“So, you’re dissing your best friend for some interesting girl you just met ... at a place where I buy my athlete’s foot powder.”
“You’re a fucking hater. And yes, I am.” I look over my shoulder, a thought bubbling before tumbling out. “I need a costume, though.”
“Wait, it’s a party. And I can’t go?”
“Yes, it is. And no, you can’t.”
He shrugs, finishing off his candy bar.
“Well then, that should be easy. Put on a sheet and go as a ghost since that’s what you’re doing to the bro-hood.”
I laugh. But honestly, not a bad idea.
An hour and a half later, my matte-black Indian Scout growls to a stop as I park in front of a warehouse. A large and fairly nondescript one, set against the pitch-black darkness, with no other vehicles in sight.
What the hell?
I look around because I’ve never been to this side of town, mainly because it’s industrial, just a bunch of warehouses by the docks.
A clang comes from the distance but dies out just as fast, forcing my head to swing over my shoulder. My eyes take in nothing, only darkness.
I wait for the sound to happen again, but I’m only met with silence.
Quiet is always eerie. The way it hangs in wait, almost taunting me, making my pulse the only thing I hear. I check the address on my phone before looking up at the steel building again and taking off my helmet.
Yeah, this isn’t ominous. I get invited to a random-ass party by a random girl, only to arrive at the beginning of a horror movie.
This may be the worst impulse I’ve ever acted on because currently, the vibe is a lot likeWell, he really got himself killedand less likeWe never saw it coming.
I mean ... Female serial killers are a thing. A shiver grazes my muscles. Jesus, I’ve got to stop thinking like this.
My phone dings with a text, reading my mind.
Chase:Yo ... just me casually stalking my best friend’s location. This is a terrible idea. RIP or run, dude. Also, I ate the rest of the pizza in your fridge.
I shake my head as I dismount my bike, looking up and down the deserted street again. A streetlight flickers in the distance like a siren calling my attention, so I squint into the darkness, trying to see clearly, still coming up empty for any sign of life. If this is a party, where is everyone?
What’s wrong with me? What’s she going to do ... steal my liver?
I pocket my phone before I reach inside the leather satchel attached to my motorcycle and pull out Chase’s creation—a spare bedsheet with flowers on it turned Casper.
Here goes nothing.
I make my way toward the door, still glancing toward a couple of spotlighted spaces along the dark, gravelly road. Movement catches myeyes, so I stare down to my left, locking on a crow perched on a bobbing cable wire strung between two poles. It’s staring back at me.
