Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I put your costume on hold at the shop. The lion one.”
He reaches for more noodles. “The cowardly lion?”
“I mostly picked it because of your hair color, not your personality,” I say with a light laugh, trying, trying, trying to get us back to our old place. Why does it just seem so hard with us lately? “If it’s not your jam, you can go down and look for something else, but with it being so close to Halloween, I wouldn’t be surprised if everything’s been picked over already.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll just figure something out.”
We eat the rest of our dinner in terse silence. Every scrape of our forks is louder than the last. When I load my dish into the dishwasher, it sounds like a bomb detonating.
I invite him to stay the night while, in my head, I actively hope he declines the offer. Maybe he can sense my true feelings because he shakes his head and claims he has an early morning anyway, just like I do. He kisses my cheek at the door, and he leaves.
After I put away the leftovers and wipe up the kitchen, I open my bedroom door to find Moira completely splayed out on my pillow like the Queen of Sheba, the tip of the shrimp’s tail dangling out of her closed mouth. She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed that her lady parts are on full display.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “He’s gone.”
Chapter Twelve
Scarlett
I love costume parties, but I especially love costume parties planned by my mother. All the passion I channel into law, she channels into entertaining. She’s been throwing Elwood Hoyt parties since before I was born—hell, I was probably born because of an Elwood Hoyt party. She has such a knack for turning a forgettable event into something spectacular and noteworthy. It helps that she has a team of party planners on the company payroll, of course, though the vision is all her.
She’s been sending me pictures of the event setup all day. The party coordinators rented out the rooftop deck of the St. Regis and had a crew in here first thing, creating the most over-the-top magical menagerie, replete with circus tents housing each of the four bars, sweeping floral arrangements that arch into the sky, and antique circus stalls filled not with animals, but with Cirque du Soleil performers painted and decked out to become animals. It’s sexy and fun and when I walk inside, I’m greeted by a fire breather blowing a plume of flame just over my head. I know it’s going to be a great night.
“You’ve seriously outdone yourself,” I tell my mom, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She only returned from Europe a week and a half ago, and she’s managed to get everything just right for the party. I have no idea how she does it.
“Looks great, Katherine,” my dad says lovingly while holding on to her shoulder, delicately enough that his hand drapes partly against her neck.
They’ve dressed for the theme, of course. My dad is a ringmaster. My mom sourced the suit from France. She said she found it at one of the markets and it sparked the inspiration for this year’s party. He looks the part, as if I snapped my fingers and drew him here from the 1930s.
A clown walks past us, pauses, and returns to entertain us with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He slips the eccentric yellow top hat off his head and digs his hand inside. I think he’s about to draw out some never-ending rainbow scarf when instead, he presents each of us with the evening’s signature cocktail.
My mother’s is yellow, my dad’s is blue, and mine is pink. There’s a color-coordinated ball of cotton candy my mom tells us we have to eat fast or it’ll dissolve into the drink. A laugh of delight spills out of me as I hurry to eat the sugary pink treat, which I was expecting to be bubblegum flavor but instead tastes like champagne heaven.
“Mom!”
She laughs and shrugs one shoulder like it’s nothing.
She’s dressed up like Lillian Leitzel, the German-born acrobat who famously performed for the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. She’s wearing a tight dress that flares out at her hips like a demure tutu. Her legs are wrapped in tights, and her shoes are pale pink ballet flats that tie up around her ankles. I hope I’m half as stunning as she is when I’m older.
No one else is dressed to theme, of course. None of us knew what we were about to walk into, so there are all the usual suspects floating around: a vampire beside a cat, a bloody Jason in his telltale white mask chatting up a Barbie and Ken duo.
“Did Jasper say he was going to meet you here?” my mom asks coolly.