Page 2 of A Treat For Her Mates

Sounds wild, right? But Fancy went into action mode and helped them escape. And then ran off with them. I’m still shocked about it. Since then, she’s been faxing me from the outer Maldives and Mr. Lemmings has been in a snit about anyone who wears a costume to the store, especially alien costumes. I think if someone came in wearing blue body paint again, he would gather a posse and drive them away himself.

Can I tell you a secret? As wild as Fancy’s big adventure was, I can’t help feeling a little jealous. Those blue guys were huge and hot. And they followed Fancy around like she was the answer to their prayers. Like, I want to be the answer to someone’s prayers. I can’t help imagining what Fancy’s men do for her. What she does with them. Gahhhh! I should just hook up with some hot hunk, then I wouldn't have to dream about steamy Maldivian threesomes.

Focus, I tell myself. Hot imaginary aliens can’t solve my current problem. Tomorrow I’m back in the SuperMart and further away from reaching my dream. But thinking about cute guys is a lot more fun than considering my terrible career prospects and meagre bank account. Yep, better to focus on the blue boys for the night. I hit the lights and lock the doors as I head home

Chapter 1: Miranda

I love Halloween, from the top of my dyed blue hair to the bottom of my sparkly blue toenails. Mr. Lemmings does not share my enthusiasm. What’s the Halloween equivalent of Scrooge? Anyway, that’s him. And you know I can’t afford to get any further on his bad side, so I’m doing my best to follow the rules. Still, I’ve got as much spirit showing as I can as I greet customers at the SuperMart entrance. I’m wearing a glittery antenna headband that matches my hair. That’s all I was allowed. But tonight will be different.

I’ve decorated the tiny house I rent and I’m going to go full throttle for the trick or treaters. I’m talking a full alien costume. Animatronic UFOs on the lawn. Smoke machine. Sound effects. You get the idea. I enjoy tinkering with things, and this year I’ve been tinkering up a storm. Those Maldivian cosplayers really imprinted on my brain, and I can’t stop thinking of alien stuff this year.

I know what you’re thinking: How can you afford to go all out on Halloween? The short answer is, I can’t afford it. Oops! The long answer is I get a sweet employee discount, and I used the heck out of it this year. Jen thinks I’m nuts, but life’s too short not to fully enjoy the things you love. Plus, pouring my energy into decorations beats wallowing in my regrets about being stuck here.

Whenever I think about my stalled mechanic career I kind of spin into a shame and sadness spiral. If only I had kept my hands to myself, known my place, and waited my turn I wouldn’t have lost my best chance at achieving my dream. But I touched—and did all the rest—so now I’m banished. And I have no one to blame but myself.

Just as I feel the dreaded tears threatening, a family of five walks in the store wearing matching superhero costumes. The three little kids are so excited they keep jumping and skipping and grabbing their parents’ hands. I get it. I feel it too! I give them a wobbly smile as they walk in the store and direct them to the candy aisle when they ask.

Yet another thing that makes me want to burst into tears. What is going on today? I want to call Jen to ease my heart a little but she’s probably busy. So, I plaster on my smile and grin at all the beautiful freaks who come through the door on this most special of days.

That reminds me, wasn’t Fancy supposed to get me something? She said she was sending “a treat.” I get that she’s far away, but I’ve haven’t gotten anything so far. Not that she has to get me anything, but she got my hopes up for…something? What on earth could it be? I’m getting off work at seven, and it’s six right now. There’s still time for a special delivery before I head for home. Listen, I’d be happy with cupcakes or a Starbucks card. I like to think I’m easy to please.

I look through the large bank of windows at the front of the store. The sun is getting lower on the horizon and the mist is rolling in from the swamps. It’s perfect for the spooky Halloween night I’ve been hoping for. I’m imagining the trick or treaters exploring the alien terrain of my front lawn when I spot them through the glass: two towering figures approaching the sliding front doors.

They look like warriors, every inch of them is ripped, their chests bared by their open vests. And they’re blue. More like teal. Holy Halloween! They’ve got to be cosplayers from the Maldives.

I’m running out the front of the SuperMart before I can even think. I’ve got to stop them before they come in here and Mr. Lemmings kicks them out. I’m breathless when I arrive in front of them.

Damn! They’re even bigger than they looked from a distance. You know what they say about objects appearing bigger in the rearview mirror? My brain is trying to assemble a similar joke but I can’t seem to catch my breath. My brain (and some other parts) are in total chaos when confronted with the huge wall of glistening man-chest in front of me. Like, it takes all my strength not to reach out and run my hand over one of their shimmering blue pecs.

They’d look perfect on my lawn display (not to mention my bed). What’s happening to my brain. Is there some weird chemical in that body paint? Maybe I should give them a smell. Or a hug? Will I get my clothes get dirty if I touch them? Dirty. I wouldn’t mind.

How much body paint did they need to use to cover all that skin? For a moment, that’s all I can think of. The long laborious process of painting every delicious inch of them, rubbing the paint over their thick forearms, powerful thighs, and sculpted abs. Did they paint the skin beneath their clothes? Where does the paint end? Would they mind if I took a peek?

Suddenly I’m aware that I’m standing there like a statue. I’m having a really complicated fantasy about two total strangers and that it’s not cool. I shake my head and try to focus. I need to warn these guys or at least find out what their deal is.

I look up, way up, to meet their eyes and they’re gazing at me. Their expressions are serious, like they’re on a very important mission. The taller one (!) has eyes like sapphires and the shorter one has paler eyes like a summer sky. I swear they can tell the moment I think about touching them because their eyes widen with surprise and their skin darkens like they’re blushing under the body paint.

“Are you from the Maldives? Do you have my treat?” I say it a bit too loud.

They stare down at me like they’re processing my words.

“Yes. Fancy sent us. I am V’Lor and this is H’Aart. We are here for Miranda Ruiz to deliver a gift.”

“I’m Miranda, and my gift is…” I notice their hands are empty. “Wait. What’s my gift? Are you guys my gift?” I blurt, then slap my hand over my mouth. What has gotten into me?

The taller one frowns and looks like he’s about to say no, but the shorter one, who I guess is H’Aart smiles.

“Would you like that? Because the two us are always ready for—”

“No!” V’Lor shoots a scathing look at H’Aart then scowls at me. “We are not the gift. It’s large and in the woods. We can take you there now.”

“Sounds great,” I say before my brain can process.

They turn and start walking and I realize I’m still in the middle of my shift and I just agreed to go to the woods with strangers. Where has my self-preservation instinct gone? Has my libido destroyed my ability to think? It seems so.

“Wait! I can’t go now. And, like, how do I know you’re not deranged killers?”

“We’re not deranged,” H’Aart says and grins wider.

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