What’s your mask look like? Is it elaborate with jewels and feathers? Or is it simple, meant to blend in with crowds? Friday’s Fiction for you to ponder such a question…

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Greg

Soulful Bar, Halloween 2013

I didn’t plan to stay this long.

Gus had said he worried about the bathroom, but didn’t say which one. I drove all the way out to the bar this week day to make him feel better, and so far there was nothing wrong. What’s worse was that I blended in, and yet stood out more today than usual. I liked wearing plaids, fixing and cleaning up under the radar. 

Except it was Halloween, so everyone who passed me told me I was a dead ringer for the Brawny man. 

Because you absolutely want to be given a name and noticed when you’re just trying to hide from the Queen of the bar. The reason I didn’t visit until late on party nights was because I was not yet ready to meet her fully. Tweety. The one who helped grandpa Gus out and maintains his legacy the way I maintain the building. But Gus had been so worried, and I needed to get back for class in the morning, so I chanced it. 

Since I didn’t know what was wrong, I looked at everything. Faucets, drains, toilet tanks. My chances of escaping without crossing paths shrunk every time I heard her laugh float with the music down this hallway. Tweety’s voice held rooms, so that wasn’t the problem, but her laugh meant she was nearby. I told myself it was self protection to just know where she was, to look up and see the flashes of red and black twirling by.  

It was watching without being watched, that bad habit I picked up since she moved in. At first, it was to protect Gus, but now? It was to protect me, from that way she had. Bright, shiny, a little bit of dirty flirting in the classy way, and gorgeous. So gorgeous, there were literal songs written about her by some breakout band that rumors say get their start with her. 

Me? I’m the pathetic guy wrapped in plaid, taking a break from studying to fix a toilet or something on Halloween.

Neil Sedaka’s Little Devil drifted down the hallway, and I got back to work, wiping up the spill I found on my way to the next place to check pipes on. The sound of heels approaching, at that tempo made me stand up. You’d think she was dressed as a cop again, the way knowing she approached both made me want to duck and run but also stand at attention like a good boy. 

“Oh, you’re perfect. Can I borrow you?” 

The surprise must have been clear on my face, because she went on.

“Or your roll of towels at least? I was heading for the supplies, but there’s a real mess at the bar right now.”

I stood still, processing that the literal queen of hearts, dressed in a short black and red dress that hinted at every curve with killer legs under it, just called me perfect and wanted me. Did I hit my head on the last pipe check? I ran my hand over the back of my head, subtly checking for a bump. 

Her head tilted to the side, studying me harder. Then her finger poked me right in the heart. A nervous giggle escaped her, while I tried not to feel that poke as anything more.

“For a second I thought I was talking to another ghost. Twice in one night was bad enough.” She mumbled that last bit, but I heard it, heard her nervous ramble kicking in. “Any good party brings them out, but only Halloween makes it so much harder to tell them apart from the living. Seeing a flapper on a random Tuesday because you’re playing a great song screams bad lighting and shadows of the past. But there’s like nine other flappers on the dance floor today so…”

“That reminds me of the time Gus told me all about the speakeasy transition of an older version of Soulful.” I spoke before I thought about it, being drawn into her energy. “Claimed someone halfway famous was passing through to New York, stopped in here for a break, and ended up singing on the stage. No microphone, and the sound traveled the whole room like there was one.”

“I heard it was Ella Fitzgerald, and that it was how the Jersey Bounce song got written.” Her long fingers came up one at a time with the silent counting of corrections. Then her hand waved it away. “But, seeing as how Gus wasn’t old enough to know that himself, if he was even born, that may be lore all together.” 

She smiled, a natural easy thing that was all for me and the memories. I forgot how to breathe.

“I’m sorry if Gus ever talks your ear off. He’s had a lot of years of life and stories to gather. He’s wise, and charming, so most people don’t mind the the tall tales or the repeating. Some do. But if they notice and call him on it, I try to smooth it over.” A bittersweet sound escaped her. “It tells you exactly what kind of person you’re dealing with if you can’t be kind and ignore some details just to hyper focus on perceived bad things.”

This time, her hand went to her mouth, covering her venting any further. I rushed to fill the silence, almost like her covering her mouth released my air and pulled the truth out with the breath I held. 

“I love Gus stories. He’s like living history, and has a story for every inch of this place. It’s built on him, and people like you, who make it more than just walls. So what if the lights trick you or the details don’t add up to perfect timelines. It’s believable. About as real as you or I.”

Tweety looked me over then, like I was starting to be someone she noticed. I couldn’t have that, not when I wasn’t ready to admit that I was Gus’ grandson and future partner of hers. So I pushed the paper towels towards her.

“You said you wanted my roll? For a mess?”

She blinked first. Shook off whatever magic dusted this hallway and nodded, accepting the hasty interruption. “Yes, thank you.”

Tweety turned to go back out, but she slipped a little on the area I had been wiping up before. Without thinking, I caught her, a simple arm outstretched as she fell backwards towards me. Our faces were close now, too close. I wanted to kiss her, but not like this, not without her knowing all of me. Not on a lie, or a future I couldn’t build yet. I wanted to be all in or nothing at all. So, I righted her. She thanked me, and kept looking at me. It unnerved me, because I started wondering if she knew who I was.

“You know, people are guessing you wrong all night, aren’t they? You’re not the Brawny man.”

For a brief moment, I felt the panic set my whole body on fire.

“Unless I’m wrong, and you were just happy to catch me, that was a wrench in your pocket. So you’re secretly a handy man. Which is so much better to have around than just someone to clean up messes.”

I nodded lightly, covering how badly I worried for nothing. Then she pulled out something from her dress pocket, eyed me once again, and pulled out something else from her other pocket. 

“Don’t work too hard.” She reached over and tucked both things in my shirt pocket, again patting my heart twice more once she put them inside. “It’s Halloween, a time for tricks and treats. One is sweet, one is tart. A capable man such as yourself can figure out which is which and still have some fun.”

She blew a kiss my way as she walked away. As if her patting my heart didn’t just pull it from me, to follow her. As if I wasn’t fighting the urge to melt right next to the spill that brought us closer than I ever planned to get. 

In a rush of nerves, I finished cleaning up the mess and ducked around a corner. Only then did I dare pull out what she stuck in my pocket. Two candies. One black, one red. One wrapper read “Eat Me” the other said “Drink (after) Me” The sweet and the tart options, dressed in Alice In Wonderland theme.