Page 94 of Midnight Valentine
Then, on Halloween, he finally does.
* * *
“It’s a Halloween party, Megan. That means you’re supposed to wear a costume, not the clothes you wear every other day of the week!
”
Suzanne has her hands propped on her hips. She’s looking me up and down with an expression of disgust. It’s Tuesday night, I’ve just arrived at her house, and we’re supposed to be on our way to Booger’s for their annual Spooktacular event, but I’m not sure Suzanne is going to let me out of her house without donning some ridiculous getup like the one she’s wearing.
“I refuse to be seen in public looking like a roll of toilet paper, Suzanne.”
Aghast, she looks down at herself. “I’m a mystical mummy!”
“Mystical? That explains all the glitter in your cleavage.”
“Seriously, I can’t let you out like that.” She waves a hand at my jeans and Bowie T-shirt, grimacing like I’m the one with the tragic fashion sense.
“Let’s tell people I’m a roadie. If you have a portable amp handy, I could carry that as a prop.”
Her eye roll is exaggerated. “Oh, right. Let me go grab my portable amp, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”
“It could be underneath that wig.”
The blonde bouffant wig perched on her head is as big as a ten-gallon cowboy hat and decorated with shredded bits of the same white gauze she’s wrapped around her body. The gauze is supposed to resemble the linen bandages used to dress mummies, but the overall effect is that Suzanne recently suffered an unfortunate accident at a toilet paper factory.
“Don’t you diss my wig. This thing cost a fortune!” She pats the towering wall of synthetic fiber, making it jiggle. Then her eyes go round, and she shouts, “Oh!”
With that, she runs down the hallway toward her bedroom, trailing bits of gauze in her wake.
I look at De Niro, Pacino, and Stallone, lounging on the sofa and regarding me with catlike disdain. “Don’t worry, boys. Mommy’s the normal one here.”
In moments, Suzanne reappears from her bedroom holding a wig so purple, it glows. She tosses it at me, forcing me to catch it. “Put that on.”
I curl my lip. “This color doesn’t occur in nature.”
“I’ll tell you what else doesn’t occur in nature—these shoes!” She sticks out a leg, clad in a six-inch spike-heel sandal with leather straps that crisscross the length of her calf from ankle to knee. The shoes are meant to look Egyptian, but they bear a striking resemblance to dominatrix wear. Mistress Charmin the mystical mummy.
“So wear flats,” I suggest, making her retch.
“Flats! Ha! The day I wear flats is the day I’ve given up all hope of attracting a man!”
“Speaking of men,” I say, aiming for a casual tone, “do you think Coop will be at Booger’s tonight?”
Suzanne is busily digging through her handbag. She produces a lipstick and compact, then proceeds to paint her lips a very unmummy shade of scarlet red. “Coop? I dunno. Maybe.”
“I mean…wouldn’t you like to see him there?”
She looks away from her compact and narrows her eyes at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Considering how peeved I was when she tried to set me up with Doug, the height-challenged building inspector, I have to tread carefully or risk being labeled a hypocrite. “Nothing. Only…”
Suzanne drops the compact and lipstick back into her bag, then turns to me with her arms folded. “Only what?”
She’s suspicious already. I might as well spit it out. “Only I’m sure he’d love to see you there.”
It takes a minute for her to process that, then she rears back like I’ve slapped her across the face. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Why is that ridiculous?”
