Kate Fox & The Three Kings by Grace E. Pulliam

Author:Grace E. Pulliam [Pulliam, Grace E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-07T05:00:00+00:00

7

Sweet Samhain

The next day, my paycheck was burning a hole in my pocket, and I itched to go shopping, which fortunately, didn’t take much convincing on Billie’s part. With Halloween only two days away, we were determined to secure our costumes.

“I think I want to be grapes,” I blurted out after we sang “Eye of the Tiger” at the top of our lungs on the car ride to the Tallahassee mall. “All you have to do is tape a bunch of black balloons over a dark turtleneck and black pants, and you’re set.”

“What did you just say?” Billie slammed on the brakes last minute for a red light and soccer-mommed me, shoving her arm in front of my chest to lessen the impact of gravity. “You’re joking, right? Halloween is for looking hot, not looking like crudité.” She shot me a disgusted glance and continued, “No. If we’re going to Caper’s party, neither of us can be dressed like a bundle of grapes,” she paused, shaking her head and accelerating when the light turned. “What was Halloween like, back at the crazy farm?”

“Well…” I thought back to last Halloween, when all of W.H.O.R.E. gathered in the church. We wrote down our most recent sin and anonymously put them in a hat. One by one, we’d pull out a slip and read off a fellow member’s sins aloud. “No one dressed up.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Billie mumbled, pulling into the Governor’s Square Mall parking lot. We hurried to the upper floor and located Andromeda’s, a little shop for all kinds of quirky gifts, costumes, and what Billie quickly pointed out to be lowbrow sex toys and many varieties of bachelorette party favors. We giggled at the penis-shaped pasta, and after intercepting a couple of nasty looks from the cashier, finally focused on what we came for—to spend $100 on a tiny, polyester blend loincloth and maybe a mask.

“Should we do a couple’s costume?” Billie started snatching plastic-bagged costumes off the rack. She froze mid-action and gasped, “We could be Disney Princesses! I’ve always wanted to be Cinderella. Please, Kate. PLEASE!” she begged and held up a bag with a picture of a tanned beauty, legs for days, sporting a bright yellow tutu that fell right below her butt cheeks and form-fitting strapless bodice, priced at $110. The fine print explained that the glass slippers, crown, and white gloves weren’t included.

I sighed. I couldn’t bring myself to spend over a hundred bucks on something I’d wear once, “Billie, we could make our own outfits for half the price.” She appeared unconvinced and started toward the dressing room, dragging me along, but I knew how to change her mind. “Where does everyone else buy their costumes? I’m guessing here. Do you want to show up wearing the same Cinderella costume as some other bimbo?”

Billie shook her head vigorously. She grabbed my arm and with an incredibly stern expression said, “Promise me you’ll be Ariel.” She held out her pinky finger, waiting.

“I’ll lead the way, then,” I sealed the promise with my own pinky.

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