Page 66 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“Oh, very nice. Becky-Ann.” She offers her hand, and I take it.
“Nice to meet you.” I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Well, this ismyfriend,Connie-Joy,” Becky-Ann says.
Connie-Joy slinks over my way and offers her hand. “Wicked pleased to meet ya, Billy Sullivan.”
“Likewise,” I say. I don’t care enough to correct her about my surname.
“You look good, Murph. I like the fireman outfit. Very sexy,” Becky-Ann says, eyeing him up and down.
“Not so bad yourself there, Becky-Ann. I got a knob that needs polishin’ latah,” Murph says, his body so close to hers that I don’t think it’ll be that much later.
“Your costume looks good too,” Connie-Joy says, not meaning a word of it. I can tell she’s confused. “Is that…a butt on your forehead?”
“No, it’s a lightning scar,” Murphy answers, at the same time I say, “Yeah. It is.”
“He’s Harry Potter,” Murph says, staring daggers at me.
“Oh. Cool.” Connie-Joy says, still not meaning a word of it.
I can feel everyone expecting me to comment on Connie-Joy’s costume. I clear my throat. “You look great too. Good choice going with the fun nurse costume. The sexy one. Not like a real nurse’s uniform where you’re prepared to lift a patient who can’t walk. Where you have to change their bedpan. Can’t do that in a skirt that short. Where you have to be mentally and physically strong enough to help people pass away as peacefully as they can.”
There’s no way a space as loud as this should feel this silent. But it does.
“Thank you,” Connie-Joy says, continuing her streak of not meaning any of the words that come out of her mouth.
Murph looks at me and mutters, “What the fuck, Billy?”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
Murphy claps his hands. “We need drinks. What do you say, Becky-Ann? Should we retrieve some libations?”
Becky-Ann curtsies and, in a terrible French accent, says, “Wee, sir. Whatevah you say, sir.”
Murph smiles and offers his arm, which Becky-Ann takes. They walk off together toward the bar, and he throws me a thumbs-up.
I turn back to Connie-Joy. She looks at me expectantly. I guess I should make conversation. “So, what do you do in real life?”
“Oh, I’m in finance,” she says.
I nod. “Nice.”
She shrugs, clearly disagreeing but not wanting to say so. “I guess.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Not really. But the money’s good.”
“I see. So what do you do with the money?”
“I…go on vacation. Save it in my 401(k).”
“So you can getaway from your job someday?”
She looks at me like that should be obvious. “Yeah, that’s what most people do.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” I mutter. I look around the party. People wearing costumes so they don’t have to be who they are in their normal life. The normal life they don’t really enjoy. Drinking alcohol so they don’t feel like they normally feel.
