Page 32 of The King of Halloween
At the scolding tone, he reached to tug down his vest, before remembering it was at the bottom of a trash can. Damn, he really liked that one. “Mom?” He pivoted his head, catching her running across the road to his side.
“Where have you been? The fireworks are about to start.”
After they’d finished cleaning up, his mother chose to stay for the rest of the festival. She had a few pies in the competition, after all. He’d chosen the saner path and escaped with his tail between his legs.
Peering over her cottony head, he tried to spy the grandstand where the mayor was about to push the button. “No thanks. I’d prefer to keep my head on my shoulders.”
“Don’t be silly. Mikey was just being spirited. You know how he gets.”
Despite her protestations, Adam knew the threat was real. The mayor put up with Adam because his store went with the holiday, and because he was willing to give his all for this town, for Halloween. But he found a new toy, one more willing to dance to his tune. After everything Adam did for Anoka—the nights he’d lose glueing eyes onto bags for Trick-or-Treaters, organizing masquerades that’d put the Twin Cities to shame—he was out. Maybe not officially, but he knew the fix was in.
So he could either stand there playing the stooge who smiled through the cross looks and whispers—or exit the stage. It wasn’t a hard choice.
“I need to return to my store,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. It can wait for a night,” his mom said.
“How’d the pie contest go?”
His mother’s always jubilant demeanor crashed. She didn’t let her smile dim, but her lips hardened and, through her teeth, she gritted two words, “Mary Anne.”
If Raj was to be his rival, then Miss Mary Anne Retton was hers. Every year, his mom tried to outdo the woman in everything from pies to quilts to canned tomatoes. If Anoka had a beatboxing competition, it’d be two old ladies going head to head in some decades-long war to best the other. Strangest of all, the rest of the year, they were good friends who played bridge and had coffee every Tuesday. He’d never understand it.
“Well, there’s always next year.”
She tipped her head, but smiled at his platitude. “What about that young man?”
Adam’s sure step crumbled. He tried to catch it before she noticed and asked with a shrug. “What man?”
“You know.”
“There are hundreds at the festival. I can’t know them all.”
“The one you got quite close to.” His mother gave a little giggle, and she pointed to Adam’s chest.
“I guess I let my competitiveness get the best of me. At least people can find my humiliation funny.”
“Oh, love, they’re not laughing at you.”
Those men in the bar told a different tale. It’s not the laughter that worries him…yet. There was a fine line between laughing at the monster and fearing it.
The bar door swung open, and Adam’s throat dried. Little warning bells told him he needed to be elsewhere, preferably behind a locked door. “Mom, I’ve got to go.” Before she could drag him off to the fireworks, Adam took long strides down the sidewalk.
“He seemed nice.”
His sure steps faltered. “I suppose so.” To those who didn’t know about Raj stealing those masks out from under him, Raj was a perfect gentleman. A man of tender face, warm eyes, and a plump, forceful body below soft sweaters.
“Don’t you think…?”
“Ma, no. Not again. No meddling in my love life, or lack thereof. Please.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I don’t have any grandchildren to dote on.”
“What about my sister?”
His mother snorted at the idea. “Baph’s married to her farm. Remember? It was a lovely ceremony.”
That was a strange day, made all the weirder by the mysterious people in hoods and robes. His sister was a hermit weirdo who preferred to spend her days talking to goats instead of people. Yet he was the threat to society, always on the verge of being shunned and cast out if he didn’t dance just right for their sensibilities.
