Page 1 of Smoke Show

Chapter 1

Eve

"Wow.Iloveyourcostume. Very sharp. What are you?" I asked, admiring the teen's suit and tie, pretty sure I recognized him. "A secret agent?"

A gamine grin spread across his sharp features. "Nah. I'm Principal Gleason," he said, pointing to the tiny Grizzly mascot tie tack. "It's agrrreatday to be a Grizzly!"

He mimicked Brady Gleason’s tone perfectly – a touch of superiority buried under the upbeat catchphrase.

Cackling, I dumped an extra handful of chocolate into his bag. "Nice. Have you been to his house yet?"

"Yup."

"And what is he giving out this year? Anything good?" I asked, finding it curious that the high school principal participated in Halloween traditions at all. Brady always seemed so buttoned-up, I wouldn’t have guessed anything as fun and frivolous as Halloween would be his thing.

The young man wrinkled his nose. "Dental floss."

"Oh," I said, nonplussed.

My trick or treater nodded sagely. "Yeah. The forecast calls for toilet paper later, with a chance of eggs."

Biting back a giggle, I kept my face solemn. "Understandable. Let me know if you need an alibi."

"You mean that?" he asked, eyes alight with mischief.

My friend Gwen, who also happened to be the town mayor, appeared over my shoulder. "No, Wes."

Shrugging, he yelled a quick thank you, disappearing into the night, and I closed the door.

Gwen shook her head, making her green wig sway. "Give Weston Johnson an inch, and we'll have another tagging scandal on our hands. The pavilion doesn't need any new graffiti."

I scrunched my nose, unbothered by her motherly chiding. "Sounds like Brady has it coming. Dental floss? Really? What is the man thinking?"

"Cavities," Sophie mumbled around her tootsie roll pop. She grinned, arching her brows suggestively as she struck a pose in her tooth fairy costume in my living room. "They're every dentist’s nightmare."

"Yeah, but he's not a dentist. Or the tooth fairy."

"True, but for teachers, the day after Halloween isthe worst… Ask me how I know," Sophie said, my friend's morose expression at odds with her usual irrepressible grin. "I don't blame him for not wanting to contribute to the madness. My second-graders are going to be exhausted, sugared-up little monsters tomorrow." She pointed her sucker at me. "You'll see. Don't you have your first play rehearsal tomorrow at the high school?"

I slumped on my couch next to Gwen. "Don't remind me."

"It'll be worth it," Gwen reassured. "We need the high school space for the Winter Warmth Auction, and helping Brady with the play is the price of admission."

"Yeah, but why am I paying it?" I grumbled.

Not that I really minded helping Brady out. Or more accurately, helping out his students. Their drama teacher had retired unexpectedly, leaving Brady with a gaggle of teenagers eager to put on their winter play and no director. Or set help. Which is why he'd twisted my arm to join him behind the scenes.

Sophie waved her sucker around. "What other kickass artist do we all know? Hmmm?"

"I'm a tattoo artist, not a set designer."

"But I'd bet twenty bucks you did drama when you were in high school," Gwen said.

She wasn't wrong, but I didn't like talking about my past. My slate had been wiped clean when I moved to Campfire, and I liked it that way. Letting thoughts of my past life intrude only led to trouble.

"Maybe," I muttered, not sure why I was complaining. Grumping just to grump wasn't like me, but the idea of working so closely with Brady pricked at me. Mostly because he was a prick.

He’d made up his mind about me immediately. He took one look at the all-black leggings and oversizedMy Chemical Romancetee, my dark makeup and tattoos, and wrinkled his nose. While I was used to that reaction from the older Campfire residents who missed the whole emo movement, from a man as young and hot as Brady Gleason, the disdain still irritated me.

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