Page 5 of The King of Halloween
“I hope so,” Raj said.
After tearing off the receipt, Adam added it to the bag, then handed over the masks. “If you do, you’ll see me riding on the biggest float at the back.”
“Really?” Raj held his masks.
Snickering, Adam couldn’t stop a blush as he held his hands up. “I am the King of Halloween.”
“Oh shi—” Two kids rammed into a rack of costumes. Like dominoes, three racks smashed to the floor.
Chrissy bowed and handed him a broom. “Your sword, your majesty.”
?CHAPTER TWO
?
“MR. STEIN?”
“I’m here. I’m here!” All knees and elbows, Adam dashed through the crowd mingling near the final and therefore best float. A few of the tourists had found the parade staging area and tried to take selfies while posing in front of the throne at the top of the castle.
Marianne Getty, the woman in charge of the parade and the community activities from spring until winter, tapped her clipboard. “Where’s your costume?”
“I’ve got it on.” Adam stuffed the last of his arm down the hole, then slid up the jacket. It was rather trim even on him, with dramatic tails that’d been distressed for extra creepiness. A debonair, Victorian jacket over his black and white striped vest, and the tie gave off the perfect vibes for the King of Halloween.
She stared long at him. “You’ve forgotten your head.”
“Oh.” Adam tapped his forehead as if that’d make the massive papier mâché pumpkin appear. “Well, I could always go without this year. Not as if people don’t know who their Halloween—”
Marianne stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a fast, sharp whistle. One of her minions scurried over. “Find Mr. Stein his head before more roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rhythmic drumming kicked up far in the distance, and the floats revved their engines. “Starting already?” Adam asked and pretended to look at the watch he didn’t have.
“Yes, Mr. Stein. Nearly fifteen minutes late.”
“I’m sorry, but there was this kid who knocked over the entire line of fantasy and western costumes. We nearly had a genre crossover of epic proportions.” He threw on his biggest smile and tried to elbow Marianne.
“Get on your chair.”
Adam waved to tell her he was going. But as he climbed past the wooden cutouts of a Frankenstein castle silhouetted by lightning and mobs of angry villagers, he couldn’t stop himself. “When it’s lined with red velvet, has padded armrests and a golden back, I believe it’s called a throne.”
“That’s gold spray paint, and the velvet’s from our old Santa costume after the Rudolph incident.”
“Ah.” Adam peered closer and spotted a reindeer hoof print embedded onto the back. “So it was. Well, that only adds to the spookiness.”
Horns blared, and the local marching band started playing Night on Bald Mountain. From his perch, Adam was able to make out the feathers on their hats swaying in the wind. The parade was on its way. So he was a little tardy, but he was here and ready to put in his jolly wave. Three bags of candy circled his legs.
While it made sense for the King of Halloween to throw out treats to all the good girls and boys, did it have to be fruit tootsie rolls? Adam stared at the blueberry one with minor distaste when he caught Marianne talking into her headset with all the excitement she never saved for him.
“Don’t tell me someone’s even later than me,” Adam called down to her.
“Yes, just have him pull out when I say,” Marianne ordered. “No, it’s fine. He’s always slow.” She stared him dead in the eye and repeated, “Always.” Then she swung up her little headset and crossed her arms.
Flopping back into his throne, Adam tried to act like his ass wasn’t on fire with curiosity. But after crossing his legs with the right over the top, then the left, then hunched back in the chair, the silence broke. “What was that all about?”
“Just a new float,” she said with far too much disinterest.
If it was a truck from the dealership or the hardware store pulling a flatbed, she’d have said as much. The less information she gave, the greater the secret. Adam didn’t just take the bait; the hook was lodged in his brain.
