by Michelle Lee
"Does it look that bad?" I ask, spinning around, trying to get a better look at myself, fear and annoyance settling in.
Evan continues to stare at me and not saying a word. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is starting to look like one of those patients in the looney bin once their meds have taken affect. His hazel eyes begin to glaze over slightly.
"Just great. I'm going to fucking kill you for waiting to the last minute, Evan, I swear to God…" I point my finger, angrily threatening him.
"Zoey, um, no, it's not bad. Jesus, you look, um, just, seriously, Zoey, you look, just, wow," he stammers, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while his eyes rake over me making me even more aware of what I’m wearing—or not wearing.
"Really?"
"God, Zoey, yes really. Good thing I'm your 'date' because I have a feeling I'm going to double as your bodyguard as well. The male population at this party is going to be all over you."
"Evan, I don't need your bodyguard services. Besides, I don't look that good."
Or do I? Maybe I’m not the boobie prize, after all.
I take a peek at myself in the wall mirrors off to the left of the dressing room. Damn, I do look that good. I give myself a mental high five. Take that Amanda.
"Trust me, Zoey. I maybe your best friend, but I'm also a guy and I know how guys think," he reminds me, tapping his slender index finger to his temple. Even though his voice says he’s teasing, his features say something completely different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something else there. Or maybe I’m thinking too much into it; maybe walking down memory lane has stirred up some of those old, suppressed feelings.
"You are delusional and biased. So, are we going as Tarzan and Jane, or what?" I quirk an eyebrow, challenging him.
"Unfortunately for me, we really have no choice. I really don't want to go as a ketchup bottle so, get changed, and I'll meet you at the register," he grumps, gripping his Tarzan costume in his hand, leaving me to change out of mine.
As I walk back into the dressing room, I can’t help but think about the party and how I am going to so rock this Jane costume. If I can get that kind of reaction from my best friend, maybe, just maybe, I can get it from someone else. I have a feeling it is going to be a very interesting Halloween party.
CHapter 2
Evan seems to relax, becoming his somewhat normal self, after I take him to Dave and Busters. I really can't understand what the big deal is about the stupid Tarzan costume. He looks good in the outfit and doesn't have a huge-ass beer gut to embarrass him. Most guys would kill to look like Evan. Seriously, he could grace the cover of GQ or some other magazine. Ashlee has approached him more than once about doing some modeling for her, but Evan always turns her down. He just doesn’t see himself that way; he may or may not have said modeling is for prissy boys, not for manly men like him. He is so delusional.
I swear… I nearly fell over when he walked out of the dressing room, finally allowing me to get a good look. Of course, I've seen Evan countless times in swim trunks and probably less. The sight of him in the loin cloth, trying to cover himself up, and being so uncomfortably shy, made me feel good about myself. I know it sounds strange, but it did.
Since meeting Evan back in high school, I always felt like I was in his shadow. I was known as his friend—"Oh, you're Evan's best friend", "You're that Richards girl, Evan's friend", "You must be Zoey, Evan's friend"—I heard it every day. I guess, at first, I didn't mind being in his shadow. Let him have the entire spotlight, was my motto, but as I got older, it got tiring to only be known as, "Evan's best friend." I wanted to be known for me. Thankfully, college gave me that opportunity.
We both attended Northwestern, but since our majors were the complete opposite, we rarely had classes together. Slowly, but surely, I started hearing things like—"Hey, you're Zoey. You made a great point in class", "I know Zoey Richards. She's the girl with the long, wavy hair…it's to die for." My all-time favorite was— "You're Evan? Oh, right…you're Zoey's friend."
I wanted to be that outgoing girl in high school so much. Joining a sorority, which is so unlike me, helped me step out of his shadow and grow out of my shyness. I met Ashlee when I pledged, and other than Evan, she's one of my closest friends. She's helped me leave behind that shy, awkward girl I once was behind. Although at times she makes an appearance. I honestly think Evan still sees me that way.
Evan is oblivious to it all—then and now—I am just his best friend. Honesty, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Evan has been the constant in my life, since I had abandoned my little "high school" crush. He's been there through every hard time, fantastic moment, clumsy bout, and boring occasion. He was there when Steve Mitchell broke my heart at prom. He was there when I tripped over my own two feet and broke my leg. He was there when my dad got really sick, and I thought I was going to lose him. Evan has always been there…I can't imagine him not being there—ever. And like he's been there for me, I'm going to be there for him. I am going to wear this ridiculous and hot costume at the Halloween party, as proof.
I always knew Amanda wasn't the girl for him. From the first time I met her I knew; something about her just didn’t seem right; like she was trying too hard to impress Evan when she interacted with me. She did, however, meet the requirements—blonde, leggy, beautiful, and smart—but has zero sense of humor, and her personality didn't shine. Evan needs the exact opposite of Amanda; someone who is funny like him and shines like he does. I have kept my opinion to myself, for once, even though at times I really wanted to tell him how really felt, but he seemed to like her a lot. It changed when she began having issues with my relationship with Evan, and really got nasty with me. Of course, that was always when Evan was out of earshot, until one day he wasn’t and heard every ugly thing she had to say me. I have learned to bite my tongue over the years because the last time I said something about one of his girlfriends, he told me to keep my opinions to myself. So, this time I did…against my better judgment. I would do anything for Evan, including dressing up in a ludicrous costume and be his date on Halloween.
****
"So, Ashlee, who's throwing this party again?"
"Don't you ever listen to anything I say? Geoffrey, from work…he's one of the fashion editors at the magazine."
I simply shrug and take a sip of my drink, as she continues to torture me by styling my hair. Why this is all necessary is beyond me. I thought my hair looked just fine, but apparently I have no idea what I’m talking about because Ashlee shrieked and immediately pulled me into the bathroom with her bag o’ fashion crap in tow, rambling on incoherently about hair, and no clue, and whatever else I could care less about. She tugs a little too hard, and the curling iron comes dangerously close to burning my scalp. I smell burnt hair…I know it. My hand immediately shoots up and smacks her, as well as the damn curling iron, out of the way.
"Damn it, Ashlee. That fucking hurt." I immediately search my scalp for scarring and singed hair. If I lose hair due to flambéing, I am going to kill her.
"Calm down, Zoey. No pain, no gain, right?" Ashlee teases, shrugging her shoulders and looking at me like I’m completely insane.
"If I was playing football, okay, but shit—you're torturing me and my head. Enough." I warn her, giving her my "I will kick your ass" look.
"Zoey, this will complete the look. Just leave it to me." Ashlee promises.
Does she really know what she's doing? I don't think Jane was tortured like this, and I'm pretty sure she didn't have access to a curling iron or other hair essentials in the jungle. Why was all this necessary? My hair was just fine before the torture ensued.
"Um, Ashlee? Not that I actually know about any of this or even really care, but why does my hair have to go through all this, really?"
"Oh, I'm going for that One Million Years BC look," she says, like I have a clue what she's talking about.
"One million-what?" I ask.
"One Million Years BC? You know, that '60's movie wi
th Raquel Welch? She was totally hot in it as a cavewoman. Totally my inspiration, when I saw it on TV a few weeks ago. Why do you think I suggested you two go as Tarzan and Jane?" Ashlee tries to clue me in.
"Oh, I don't know—to torture the fuck out of me?" I sarcastically respond.
"You know I don't need an excuse to torture you, Zoey; it just comes naturally. Now just let me finish Loana-ing you instead of Jane-ing you" Ashlee smirks.
"Loana-ing?" I ask, even more confused.
"That was her character’s name in the movie. You so have to see that movie. I mean, it is a bit cheesy, but she looks amazing in it; I would kill to have her bod; I mean totally slaughter. We’ll have to rent it sometime. Now, just let me finish, and then you can totally thank me."
"Fine, whatever. But I'm warning you; if I smell my hair burning again, you're done. Caput. Finito. Got it?" I dramatically slice my finger across my neck for emphasis.
"Oh, silly Zoey. Beauty is pain… just deal with it. Besides you couldn’t take me, I would so kick your ass. Now shut up and keep still so I can continue and work my magic." Ashlee sticks her tongue out at me and picks up the curling iron, a look of pure determination on her face.
Against my better judgment, the torture continues.
After another hour of-what did Ashlee call it-Loana-ing me, I simply call it Halloween Torture Take One, she is finished. When I stare in the mirror, it actually is worth a few singed hairs and an aching scalp. I mean, I look totally hot. Evan just might have to assume that role as my bodyguard, after all. I can't stop smiling as I stare at myself in the mirror.
"Told ya it would be worth it."
"Once again, you're right, Ashlee. Why did I ever doubt you?"
"Because it's what you do. I wish you could see the future, and then we wouldn't have to have all the drama and theatrics in between. Remember this next time." She points a finger at me.
"I'm not making any promises."
"Fine. I'll just have to remind you, then. Let me just change into my costume, and we can go or is Evan picking us up?"
"It's not a date-date, Ashlee. We’re just gonna meet him there."
"If you say so," she retorts as she locks herself in my bathroom.
Ashlee has always been under the impression there is something more between Evan and myself—something just below the surface both of us is too afraid to really acknowledge. I've told her nothing is there, but of course, she still thinks differently. She seems to think we are perfect for each other and wonders why we continue to torture ourselves by dating other people when we should just date each other. Again, I remind her that we are just friends, and that's the way it has and will always be.
Ashlee emerges out of the bathroom, and my jaw hits the floor. "Ashlee…" I can't get any more words out.
"I know, right? I look totally fucking hot."
"That's an understatement."
She is a cowgirl…a very sexy cowgirl. Much like my costume, it doesn't leave much to the imagination. The fringed skirt rides low on her hips and barely covers her legs. The barely-there top, if you can call it that, shows much more cleavage than I thought Ashlee had. Her cherry-red hair is in two braids poking out from underneath her leather cowgirl hat. I do believe she'll be in need of Evan's bodyguard services more than I will tonight. Too bad those guns strapped to her hips aren't real; she might have to put them to good use.
"So, are you ready?" Ashlee is bouncing out of her skin, throwing a few essentials into her bag and grabbing her coat.
I grab my winter coat and my purse. "Yep, let's go." I’m as ready as I’m going to be.
Chapter 3
Ashlee is Chatty Kathy on our way over to Geoffrey's loft. She keeps going on and on about what an amazing time we are about to have. She says I am going to fall in love with Geoffrey and Patrick. Obviously, she is madly in love with them. It makes me wonder if there is more to this “love” then what she’s told me. Ashlee has only told me they are her guy BFFs like Evan is mine, and that she could never think of either of them that way. I’m not so sure; part of me still thinks she might be secretly crushing on one of them. Although Ashlee is a one-man woman, and right now her one man is Jim. The two of them have been going out for a few months now. But as we continue to make our way through the busy streets, she surprises the shit out of me when I ask her if Jim is meeting us there as well. She matter-of-factly states that they have broken up. It is a complete surprise and news to me. When I ask her why, Ashlee simply says he wasn't her soul mate. She just knew he wasn't the one. She will find her soul mate soon, she promises. I have no doubt. Or maybe she already has. I can’t help but wonder about Geoffrey and Patrick.
Now, I've never met Geoffrey Ward, but I feel like I know him already because Ashlee talks about him nonstop when she mentions work or shopping or just anything. I would feel a little jealous, but I guess at times I am the same way when it comes to Evan. I totally get the whole best guy friend thing. It seems as if Geoffrey is the male version of Ashlee from what she tells me. I can't wait to actually meet him in the flesh, and see if he really is her twin. She hasn’t said much about Patrick though, except that he’s wonderful and she would be lost without him, so I wonder if there might be something there after all. Maybe she’s so cool about breaking up with Jim because there’s something going on with her and Patrick. Although, I’m pretty sure she would have told me, we never keep secrets. We are open books when it comes to each other.
We finally arrive at Geoffrey’s, and as we enter the long hall to the loft, my body starts to pulsate. The music's rhythm is vibrating through the walls, causing my body to react. The techno beat sends a delicious shiver down my spine. Suddenly, I have the urge to dance. Ashlee notices and smiles. "I told you, we are going to have so much fun." Her smile and outlook are definitely infectious.
As we get closer to the loft, the music gets louder, and I can't help the excitement that starts to bubble inside me. I have never been one for going to parties, especially when hosted by people I don't know, but there's this certain vibe that is exuding from it and it actually makes me want to celebrate 'til the wee hours of the morning. Ashlee calls my reaction "Geoffrified." Is that even a word? Of course, it's something she made up. When we open the door and enter the loft, "Geoffrified" is the exact word to describe everything.
The loft is decorated beyond anything I could have imagined. If you've ever been to Halloween Horror Nights, at Universal Studios, or some other big production like that, you've just entered Geoffrey's loft. It's like some scary, mystical forest. Smoke is everywhere, tall trees hover together, creating a dark canopy. Cobwebs and Spanish moss dangle from dead tree branches. Spooky, glowing eyes radiate from dark corners. Flashes of light go off intermediately—as if a storm is on the horizon. People carrying trays of food and drink stagger and hobble about, dressed in macabre costumes—zombies, demons, ghouls. I feel like I've stepped on to a movie set.
"Geoffrey goes all out, doesn't he?" Ashlee says in my ear over the music.
All I can do is nod, as I continue to take everything in. I am literally blown away. I mean, who goes through this much trouble for a Halloween party? I guess Geoffrey Ward does. I so need to meet him sooner rather than later. Some zombie-like girl comes up to us and asks to take our coats. Geoffrey doesn't miss a thing, apparently. Ashlee and I take off our coats and hand them over. No more hiding my costume now. Then, out of nowhere, there is this…this bee? Yep, a bee comes fluttering over. It so goes against everything else I’m seeing. A bee just doesn’t fit into this particular puzzle. And then I hear the bee squeal, at Ashlee, and she squeals right back. Their high-pitched hello has my ears ringing even more so than the music.
"Oh, honey, you've finally made it. I was beginning to worry." The bee kisses the air on either side of Ashlee's cheeks.
She does the same. I just stare, dumbfounded. The bee, he's still fluttering, he’s actually fluttering as a bee should. The whole scene in front of me is just—bizarre. I’m surrounded by demons
and ghouls in a macabre forest and a sexy cowgirl and bee are squealing and hugging in the middle of it all. “One of things doesn’t belong” from Sesame Street begins to play in my head. I would so win this round.
"Sorry, had to put the finishing touches on Zoey's costume." Ashlee does a Vanna White hand wavy thing toward me.
The bee squeals. "Ohhhh, Zoey, I've been dying to meet you!" The bee grabs me into a tight hug by the shoulders, and kisses the air beside my cheeks making a loud kissy sound.
I stand, unmoving, not knowing what to do—how to respond.
"Mmmm, mmmm, honey, let me get a look at you."
Before I can object, the bee grabs my hands and pulls my arms out to the side. Then he releases one and spins me around. I suddenly feel like a piece of meat on display at a steakhouse.
"Fabu, just fabu. Ash, you totally outdid yourself, although the raw material you had to work with is to die for. I mean, look at her skin tone, and that hair… that hair, what I wouldn't give to have hair like that. Am I right or am I right? Zoey, honey, you are sizzling with a capital 'S.'"
The bee licks his finger and touches it to his ass, while a sizzling sound comes out of his mouth. I glance at his ass, and he has a fucking stinger coming out of it.
"Mmmm Hmmm, stare all you want, honey, you will never have an ass like this," he smacks it, "unless you work out and work out. Butt squeezes are a must."
The bee spins me around and squeezes my ass, and I think I squeal. "Ooooo, someone already knows about butt squeezes." Then the bee smacks my ass.
"Nice."