by JC Gatlin
“I didn’t recognize you out of your security guard uniform,” she said, smiling.
He laughed. “I apologize for that, ma’am. I do have an off campus civilian life.”
“But you look so different?”
His blue eyes looked down at her. “Good or bad?” he asked. “And don’t say bad. My ego won’t be able to take it.”
“No, you look –” Abbie paused, looking down at her white tennis shoes. “You look good,” she said quietly.
“Thank you. You too,” he said. There was an awkward pause. “What are you and your, um, party posse doing now?”
“It’s a new dare,” she said. “It’s kind of stupid, really.”
He waited for her to answer. “And?”
“Well…” Abbie paused. She didn’t want to tell him. This wasn’t the kind of thing she went around doing. She took a breath, then just said it. “I have to ask twenty one guys to lift their shirts and let me sign my name on their stomachs.”
“What number are you up to?”
Abbie turned and called out to Susan. “What number are we on?”
“Sixteen,” Susan, Dharma and the twins yelled back in unison.
Abbie turned to Josh. “Sixteen,” she said.
Josh laughed. “And you’re looking for number seventeen.”
“Would you mind?”
“I’ve already bailed you out once tonight, you know.” He turned to her, drew a breath, his blue eyes serious. “If I help you again, I’ve got one stipulation.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“That you write your phone number along with it.”
Abbie shook her head, grinning. “I’ve already heard that line tonight.”
Josh touched the breast pocket of his Tommy Bahamas shirt, tapped it with a finger. “Well it’s either that or no deal.”
Now Abbie laughed. “Okay,” she said. “It’s a deal.”
Josh unbuttoned his shirt and opened it. Leaning forward, Abbie saw an odd, puckered scar on his stomach, just above his navel. Twisted, gray, and wrinkled. It almost looked like someone had carved a lopsided number “8” in his belly. He must have caught her staring at it.
“I got shot in the stomach when I was a kid,” he said. “Everyone says I’m lucky to be alive.”
“You got shot?” Abbie straightened and stepped back. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “With a gun?”
“Like a million years ago.” He looked down at his stomach. “Scars of childhood, right?”
Abbie started to ask him what happened when Susan yelled at her. The others joined in, urging her to get on with it.
Abbie uncapped her black magic marker. She signed her name to the left of Josh’s scar, then added her phone number below it. This time, it was her real number.
When she was done, Josh lowered his head. He read the numbers out loud.
“You can read upside down,” she said.
“Yeah, but I can’t tell your fives from your threes,” he said. “Is this a seven or a one?”
“I guess you’ll just have to try a couple of combinations to see what works.” She couldn’t believe she was actually flirting with him.
“I guess I will.” He glanced at the twisted old scar on his stomach, then closed his shirt over it. When it was fully buttoned again, he asked, “Where you headed now?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Onto the next dare I guess.”
“Well, ma’am.” He paused, then added, “Abbie?”
“Yes?”
“I hope we run into each other again tonight.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
She watched him take a few steps down the street, then she called out to him again. He hesitated and turned around. When she didn’t say anything, he shouted, “Hey, how do you get a tissue to dance?”
Abbie looked confused. “What?”
“How do you get a tissue to dance?” he yelled again. Abbie shrugged. He laughed and pretended to blow his nose. “You put a little boogie in it.”
Abbie laughed and waved. He saluted her then turned, heading down the street. Abbie put her head in her hands as the other girls crossed the street.
“What was that all about?” Dharma asked. “Was that the security guard?”
“Josh,” Abbie said. “His name is Josh.”
“You were check’n him out yesterday.” Dharma brought a hand to her mouth as she laughed. “Outside Professor Cunningham’s office. I saw you staring at him.”
“Sounds like Abbie has a crush,” Lindsey said.
“Sounds like she’s in looo-ooove!” Lindsay swooned, placing her hands over her heart and closing her eyes. She followed that with smooching noises.
“Come on, people,” Susan said. “We’re losing moonlight.”
The girls headed further east along the sidewalk. The crowd thinned slightly, and the music sounded noticeably fainter behind them.
“I can’t believe we haven’t run into McKenzie and Rocky yet?” Abbie trailed the group, looking at her phone. “Why hasn’t she come back?”
“She’s off fighting with her fiancée,” Susan said. “Probably pre-wedding jitters.”
“Or making up with him,” Dharma added. “Maybe they don’t want to be found.”
“Well, something doesn’t feel right.” Abbie tried McKenzie’s number again. It went straight to voicemail. “She’s turned off her phone.”
“Because she doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Susan said. “Now come on, let’s find four more boys.”
They girls approached four more guys, tourists from Oklahoma, and Abbie half-heartedly wrote her name on their stomachs. They snapped pictures of her signature and posed with all the girls in a group photo. It was probably the wildest thing to ever happen to them.
When they finally walked away, Abbie sent the mission completed text. She waited for the next dare to come in. When it did, she looked puzzled and read it to the girls.
Abbie looked over at Susan. “That’s a dare?”
“I don’t remember it.” Susan shrugged. They continued several blocks down Eighth Avenue. The street crowd gradually disappeared, until the girls were the only ones left on the sidewalk. The lights and music of the Ybor District grew faint behind them. An abandoned cigar factory loomed eerily ahead.
“Is that it?” Lindsey pointed to the silhouetted structure.
“That can’t be it.” Lindsay turned her head, as if looking for some other building. “It’s got to be a mistake.”
“I think that’s trespassing.” Abbie stared at the abandoned factory in the distance. It looked haunted, to say the least.
“Yeah,” Susan said. “Who came up with this dare? I don’t remember it being on the list.”
Chapter 21
Abbie stared at the black silhouette of the building in the distance. “It doesn’t look very safe.”
When they reached the old cigar factory, they found a five-story stone building with plywood sheets in place of plate glass windows. Black-and-yellow “No Trespassing” tape stretched out against a background of gray weathered wood, blackened cracked glass, and dark stone.
“So what do I do, just walk into it and come back out?” Abbie asked.
Susan shrugged. “I guess it’s just another stop on the way.”
“On the way to where? What’s the point? Is my surprise guest in there?”
“I doubt it,” Susan said. “It’s not how we planned it.”
“I’ll tell you what they have planned.” Dharma paced as she talked, the layers of her black dress flowing in the night breeze. “You’re going to walk in there and it’s going to be all dark and scary, then McKenzie and her dumbass boyfriend are going to jump out and scare you.”
“Makes sense,” Susan said. “You know how McKenzie likes surprises.”
Abbie stared at the old building then cautiously stepped forward. There’d once been a gate at the entrance, but it had long since blown away in a windstorm. An empty guard booth still stood the
re, with broken windows and a ghostly rolling chair. Mostly though, the place looked deserted.
She moved past the shack into the receiving yard. Black smudges stained the concrete all the way to sidewalk leading into the building. A faint tobacco stink hung in the air. Abbie wasn’t sure if that was real or just her imagination. She stepped up to the front entrance. A chain draped loosely around the left handle and spilled, link by link, down the metal door and coiled on the cement. A busted padlock lay on the ground. Abbie forced the doors open. The rusty hinges squeaked as she entered the dark building.
Inside, Abbie could barely see. She used the camera flash on her cell phone to light her way. Once her eyes adjusted, she stepped quietly through the open room. The bottom floor had been a receiving area, and there were still boxes and wood pallets scattered about. Four bay doors were rolled shut, and the metal plates rippled and vibrated in the wind. The windows along the front were boarded tight. Still, a little light shined in through the gaps, highlighting mildewed boxes stacked along the walls. A lone cockroach scurried across a box flap, twitching its antennae.
Abbie shined her light toward a pair of doors that probably led to the stairwell. The second floor had been the main rolling room. She wasn’t sure what was on the floors above that. She glanced up. The ceiling creaked.
Abbie wondered if there was somebody walking above her. A flicker caught her eye, and she moved her light toward a small office just beyond the bay doors, near the stairwell. A soft light shimmered and cast shadows on the office walls. Was someone in there?
“Hello?” she called out. There was no answer. “McKenzie? Are you in here?”
Abbie crossed the receiving bay, squinting in the darkness. She maneuvered around stacked pallets and broken crates, and made her way to the grimy glass door. She paused. Candles burned inside the little office. Six. Seven. At least eight candles set on top a desk that was pushed against the wall. Someone was here. She felt certain of that. And this current dare was inside the empty office. Abbie took a deep breath, preparing herself for a big surprise. McKenzie and Rocky would jump out from behind some boxes. Yell. Scare her. Then they all would have a big laugh. She turned the knob.
She could make out dim shapes. The candles offered very little illumination and she ran a hand along the wall for a light switch. She found it and flipped it. Nothing happened. She ran her cell phone light from wall to wall.
It appeared empty. No McKenzie. No Rocky. Nobody crouched down ready to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” She aimed the light toward the desk.
It took her several seconds to comprehend what she was looking at. Abbie focused her light on the desktop amid the candles, taking a step to get a closer look. She leaned forward, then immediately jumped back. “Oh, my God!”
A plastic Gareth the Goodhearted Ghoul Halloween mask lay face-up on the desktop. Its empty eyeholes looked back at her. Its grey face smiled, mocking her. She could almost hear it say, Let’s be friends.
Abbie tumbled backwards, falling to the concrete floor.
Crawling on her hands and knees, then picking herself up, she ran out of the office. She rushed through the big open room, her feet pounding. She stumbled over a pallet, then another. She came to the entrance, pushed the front doors open and rushed into receiving yard.
Susan, Dharma and the twins were ahead of her, standing by the old guard shack. Abbie raced toward them, screaming. Out of breath, she caught-up to the girls. She bent at the waist with her hands on her knees. She inhaled deeply, and spoke between breaths. “I-I-It’s not funny.”
“What are you talking about?” Susan put a hand on Abbie’s back. Dharma kneeled beside her.
“What’s in there?”
Abbie looked up at them. Her eyes widened. “Gareth the Ghoul.”
“I don’t get it. What’d you see?”
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Abbie stood up straight. “Why would you and McKenzie put those masks in there? That cartoon terrifies me.”
“What are you talking about?” Susan placed two hands on Abbie’s shoulders. “What did you see in there?”
“Gareth Halloween masks,” she said.
“Gareth Halloween masks?” Dharma looked back at the old building. “I still don’t get it. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is this is a cruel, crappy joke,” Abbie looked at Dharma, then the twins, then at Susan. “It wasn’t funny. Not by a long shot.”
“This isn’t one of our dares,” Susan said. “I’m still expecting Rocky and McKenzie to jump out at any second.”
“Did McKenzie come up with this? Was this McKenzie’s idea?”
Susan tightened her grip on Abbie’s shoulder. “Calm down. Okay? I thought McKenzie was your friend. Why would she try to hurt you?”
Abbie grabbed her phone and dialed McKenzie again, but the call went straight to voicemail. “Where is she?”
Susan shrugged. “You know everything I know.”
“No.” Abbie gritted her teeth. “You know where we’re headed. You know who this surprise guest is. Who is it, Susan? Tell me.”
“I can’t. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“What’s the connection?” Abbie took a step toward her. She clenched her fists. “If it’s not Buffy, is it someone in my family? Is it Clinton Reed?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Abbie looked at the twins. “Who put those Gareth Halloween masks in there? Who’s trying to scare me?”
Lindsey took a step back. Lindsay slipped behind her. Susan stepped in front of the twins and held up her hands. “Abbie, please!”
“Who is the surprise guest, Susan? Tell me.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“This isn’t a game anymore, Susan. Who is the surprise guest? Who’s sending me the text message dares?”
Susan’s eyes widened and she sighed. “Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you.”
Chapter 22
It’s your therapist.” Susan blurted it out. “Some weird guy named Dr. Everett Wachowski and he talks like he’s Bob Saget on Full House.”
Abbie didn’t know what to say. “What?”
“Your therapist is the surprise guest.” Susan looked away. “McKenzie contacted him and they organized the whole party. He said he’s more friend than therapist. He’s texting you from the Florida Aquarium and we had a few more dares planned along the way.”
Abbie ran her hands through her hair and looked away, trying to wrap her head around this. “Who invites someone’s therapist to be the surprise guest at their birthday party?”
“I’m sorry.” Susan waved her hands as she apologized. She followed Abbie, who was now pacing in tight circles on the sidewalk. “I didn’t even know you were seeing a therapist until this week.”
“My therapist? Why? Is that even ethical? Is it even legal?” Abbie continued pacing. Susan continued to follow her.
“Look, McKenzie arranged everything and said it would be a good idea. Said it would help pull you out of your shell.”
“My therapist?” Abbie stopped pacing; Susan nearly bumped into her. Abbie turned around. She still couldn’t believe what Susan was saying.
“He’s waiting at the Florida Aquarium. McKenzie’s boyfriend, that Rocky guy…” Susan ran her hands through her short hair as she explained. “He recruited your therapist into that vitamin business and they’re having some kind of recruitment meeting at the Aquarium. That’s where I was leading you.”
Abbie stared at her, unblinking. “My therapist?”
No one answered her. After a moment of silence, Abbie grabbed her phone and pulled up the last dare. She pressed the sender’s phone number. The phone dialed. It rang. Rang again. Finally, a recorded voice came over the speaker.
“You’ve reached the private cell phone for Dr. Everett Wachowski. If this is an emergency, please hang-up and dial—”
Abbie ended the call. She looked back at Susan. “My therapis
t? Really? My surprise guest is my therapist?”
“Maybe he’s making you face your fears,” Dharma offered. “You said that little kid’s Halloween masks frighten you.”
“Not little kid’s Halloween masks,” Abbie sad slowly, one word at a time. She was making a point. “Gareth the Goodhearted Ghoul masks unnerve me.”
“Well, why?” Dharma gave an impatient shrug. “Why are you seeing a therapist anyway? I mean, it’s no big deal. Everyone’s got issues nowadays. What’s your childhood trauma?”
“I have anxiety issues.” Tension rose in Abbie’s voice as she became more defensive. She barely knew these people and she was talking to them about her therapy sessions. This wasn’t right.
“Do you have an irrational fear of spiders?” Dharma probed, seemingly unaware of Abbie’s discomfort with the subject. “Cause this looks like a good place to face it.”
“I do not have an irrational fear of spiders.” Abbie’s face turned red. Her nostrils flared. “I do not have an irrational fear of Halloween masks or cartoons. What I have is anxiety issues from watching my big sister being murdered sixteen years ago.”
Dharma gasped.
“I had no idea.” Susan turned away from the group, then swung back around. She placed a hand on Abbie’s back. “Wha—I mean, what happened?”
“A man broke into our house when we were kids. He had a Gareth the Ghoul tattoo on his right arm.” She took a deep breath, calming her trembling legs. “He killed my sister.”
Susan pulled her arm away and brought it to her mouth. “You never told me.”
“Like I said, maybe your therapist is forcing the issue,” Dharma said. “Maybe this whole thing is some kind of therapy.”
“Who does that?” Abbie screamed. “Who the hell does that?”
Abbie’s cell phones chirped with a new incoming text message. The twins grabbed their phones. Susan and Dharma looked at each other. Their phones were silent.
“It’s the fifteenth dare,” Abbie said. “Is Dr. Wachowski sending these?”