Page 1 of The King of Halloween
?CHAPTER ONE
?
IT WAS A beautiful day for the once and future king of Halloween. No crown perched on his head, nor scepter rested in his grasp, but every subject in Anoka, Minnesota knew who Adam Stein was. And no one did Halloween better.
Leaning against the velvet throne, Adam watched over his piece of the kingdom. On any other Wednesday afternoon, there’d be one blue-haired lady gazing wistfully at the bustled dresses and a couple of tourists inspecting the wigs. But this was the autumn equinox, which could only mean one thing—total chaos.
Ten months out of the year, Stage & Scream was the go-to shop for all theatrical productions in a five-town radius of Anoka. Adam knew how to get them anything they needed. Stockings and powdered wigs? He had an entire Hamilton shelf. Dusters and cowboy boots? Yeehaw partner! Be careful not to dull them spurs. Realistic flesh ready to be torn off at a moment’s notice? The makeup counter boasted every possible hue in the rainbow. Thanks to its latex pieces, they could turn any cherubic eight-year-old into a demonic force from hell.
Supporting the theaters, schools, and general backyard productions kept his store quiet and running. But, as the leaves turned and a chill carried on the wind, the quaint brick store at the end of the row found itself stuffed to the gills with patrons looking for the one thing to make their Halloween.
“That eyeshadow is to die for, Mrs. Kim.” Adam nodded to the sweet old lady trying on a swipe of venomous green when he caught another regular eyeing up the riffraff costume rack. “Oh, no, Marie, don’t you dare waste a dime on that. Head into the back where there’s a proper evil queen costume with your name on it.”
Marie gave her usual cute giggle. The woman was a grandmotherly plum in both sweetness and size. Adam adored this time of year when he could turn her into the tempestuous vixen lurking below.
“Mr. Thornton!” He caught an old man who fell out of a tractor ad from the fifties glaring at a stand of costume accessories. Leaning against the bows, Adam asked, “Did your wife finally talk you into the tights?”
Mr. Thornton’s response was a tight-lipped mumble, but guessing by the flush of color to his soil-worn cheeks, Adam knew she’d finally worn him down. Poor bird had come into his store nearly every weekend for the past three months. “I’ve always found these to offer the right amount of room while keeping things snug and in the proper place. Unless you’d like one with laces up the sides…”
Even though the store was packed tighter than a jar of pumpkin butter, Adam took the time to help every person individually. It was more than a sign of a good host, but a mark that he was a man of the people. Though… He peered to the side to find a mob of visitors standing outside. They had the delight of enjoying the vintage decorations on the sidewalk while waiting for someone else to leave. Adam took a quick headcount and smiled. Double last year for the parade.
Anoka welcomed the start of the Halloween season with a march down Main Street. Small, chubby children would wave autumnal leaves while grandparents snapped pictures. Businesses advertised their pumpkin lattes, pumpkin cakes, pumpkin breads, and farm-raised pumpkins for carving. And, of course, everyone had to stop into Stage & Scream before the parade began to start planning their costume.
It was tradition.
“Get over here.” A voice cut above the steady din of excitement and crunch of Anoka Jamboree-sponsored popcorn. With a smile, Adam joined the woman manning their lone cash register, but not before giving his opinion on a set of vampire fangs to a mess of grade school kids. Despite having the cheery name of Chrissy, the woman preferred to don the macabre. From her jet black hair, oversized ebony hoodie, and black gloves, it looked like a shadow worked for him. If it wasn’t for her pale face bobbing somewhere above and below the void, she’d vanish from sight.
“I’m sorry, is my name over or get?” Adam asked.
She slammed the register door and stared at him with sarcastic malice. “Help me, Jack or Ass,” Chrissy said before smiling widely at the woman who gasped in front of her. “Have a nice day.”
“What did I say about cursing in front of the customers?” Sliding in behind her, Adam tried to figure out what she needed him for.
“To keep it creative.” Chrissy nodded for the next person. The line was already snaking down both impulse lines and around the rack of costume paraphernalia. While a pain now, that meant a good season for the store.
Adam snickered to himself, then he placed his hands behind his back and popped up on his heels. Fighting to drop his voice, he tried to say with deep intimidation, “You rang?” But against his naturally flighty tone, it came out more like two frogs vengefully croaking across a parking lot.
She didn’t even stop ringing up the pile of blood bags. Just lifted one of her pierced eyebrows and snorted. Okay, at his svelte height and svelter physique, Adam wasn’t going to intimidate like a beloved undead butler. But he was their Halloween king and deserved some respect.
“Did you call me over just so I could see you working?”
“Thank you. Next,” Chrissy grumbled. She moved through the following three customers before so much as turning to him. Using her scanning gun, she pointed into the crowd. “There’s a guy out there that wants to try on a mask.”
“So?” Adam laughed. “They’re next to the wigs. Aisle ten.”
“No. Thespecialmasks.”
Wow.“Really?” Adam nervously adjusted his tie—a black and orange pinstripe because one must always keep to theme. No eye other than his had so much as seen a real hair of thespecialmasks for this year. He liked to wait until October first before unveiling them with a big ceremony in the store windows. But if someone asked for them specifically today… His lip twitched, and he stared hard at Chrissy. “It better not be those Waltons again.”
With a dismissive wave, she flapped her hand in the direction of whoever wanted to see the masks, and Adam took off.
“Excuse me. Pardon me. Oh, that’s a wonderful color for wings. Have you tried them in blue?” He greeted everyone he passed along the way, some familiar faces, others fresh. The parade always brought in tourists whose money was just as good as the regulars. Probably.
Past the rows of fake vampire fangs and bloody syringes, Adam spotted a man with his back to him in a tan calfskin coat. Black hair spilled over the collar, hiding away all but a hint of a gray-blue wool lining. Sure enough, the jeans were rugged and worn, filling Adam’s head with untamed terrain, wild horses, and rough cowboys in assless chaps.
“Hello?” he called out, bracing for the inevitable receding hairline and thumb-face that looked forty-five despite being anywhere from twenty to fifty-three.
A wash of thick, wavy black hair bounced across Adam’s vision, and he gulped. Sweet baby pumpkins, he was wrong. Instead of the typical patron in these parts, where they had too much face for their squinty eyes, his features filled his beautifully oval head perfectly. The big eyes were so brown they were almost black, save a sudden sparkle of amber around the pupils. He had a nose with a wide bridge that nearly touched his eyes. The tip was so rounded, along with the nostrils, it reminded him of the three moon phases.
