Page 17 of Property of Scythe
“Yeah. Make it bloody and scary. We post signs warning people. If they shit their pants, it’s not our fault.”
Phantom spits out part of the Dr. Pepper he’s drinking. “Fuck, Scythe. You did that shit on purpose.”
Maybe. I grin as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t forget to string up the flying ghosts.”
“I won’t.”
“Who’re you going as this year?” He picks a different costume every year to frighten the crowd. Last year, he chose Leatherface.
“Art the Clown.”
“That creepy fucker from Terrifier who doesn’t speak?”
“Yep.”
“Damn. I can hear the screams already,” I joke.
“That’s the point, Pres.”
“We should check on the props from last year,” I suggest. “I don’t want any surprises next week while we’re setting up.”
“If there are any repairs that need done, I’ll take care of ’em.”
There’s a second barn on our property that’s filled with several wagons, wooden props, and other supplies. We keep it locked up when not in use, so I’m not surprised to see it’s dusty inside the barn when we enter.
I take inventory and make a list of additional materials we’ll need. When we meet for church, I’ll get input from all the members and decide if we want to add anything to the corn maze or hayride this year. I expect we will. While the season is a lot of work, we also enjoy the chance to have fun outside of regular club duties.
The spooky season in Raven’s Crest is like nowhere else in the world.
“I’m headin’ out,” I tell Phantom as we walk out of the barn.
“Need anything else done?”
“Yeah. Get the prospects to mow the fucking lawn. It’s a goddamn jungle back here.”
“I’m on it.”
I should be thinking about all the shit that needs done before we’re ready to open for the season, but my thoughts keep drifting to a pretty brunette with fiery green eyes and curves I itch to touch.
It’s not stalking if I visit the school since my daughter is a student. I’m just checking in. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m on my way, riding with my knees in the crisp, early autumn breeze.
I fucking love this time of year.
Chapter 7 Lottie
“What’s the emergency, sis?” Lottie asks as she answers my call.
I sent off a frantic text only a minute earlier, desperate to talk to someone about the biker from my dreams who’s actually a real guy. And he’s sexier than any fantasy I could conjure.
“I met my biker.”
Silence greets me.
“Twice,” I reveal.
“No shit?”
“He’s real, Mel.”
