"Hey, neighbor!" Jackie was full of pep and vigor this All Hallow's Eve, and dressed to the nines in silver sparkle. Wide collar, feathers on the sleeves, a full-fledged Liberace number. More than a bit hackneyed, he had told the mister...what, was he a walking cliche? But what the hell, it's a special occasion, why not live a little!
Jackie's smile took a slow turn now as he laid witness to his neighbor. Timmy stood uncomfortably silent, having opened the door to his apartment with what seemed a severe lack of enthusiasm. "Bad timing? Don't wanna intrude, just double-checking on your RSVP. You boys still planning on making a party appearance tonight?"
"Yes, of course," Timmy assured, but his voice had lost it's confidence, and Jackie could read people.
"Now, don't tell me. I've caught you in the midst of either a very heated emotional purging, or the throes of passion."
He was right, of course, on both accounts. Timmy had left Russell all alone, having pulled away from a death grip of an embrace...no telling where things might have led this evening if not for Jackie's rather abrupt, ill-timed interruption. They had stumbled upon a moment of raw emotion, he and Russell, something they had been lacking in recent weeks, and if not for this rather uncomfortable silence he now found himself in with Jackie, he would still be holding Russell...really feeling him. My god, had they truly felt one another in weeks? Aside from sex? What an absurd thought, that two people could have sex and never truly touch...
"Penny for your thoughts."
"What? Ex...excuse me, were you saying something?"
"Is it that man of yours? Y'know, if I'd realized before now that you were who you were and he was who he is, I'd have been keeping a closer eye on that fella. No offense, but-"
"None taken."
"Is he treating you right?"
Timmy had little choice but to smile at Jackie's sudden guard dogging. "Yes. Yes, of course..."
Russell was pacing in the bedroom, having a private conversation with himself...attempting to reason with the most unreasonable person he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing.
"You're making an idiot of yourself, man...you're gettin' weak out there, get your head back in the game, don't let him see you sweat."
He'd just broken down in front of Timmy again, as always, though barely. He hated doing that, he hated crumbling for anyone, but...
"Isn't that what he wants, though? 'Vulnerability,' 'transparency,' uhh, what's that crap he's always... 'your parents stifled you, you can finally let yourself breathe emotionally,' ugh..." Russell walked straight into a wall, bashing his head repeatedly, softly, yet just enough to sting.
He recovered quickly at the first sign of intrusion, turning on swift feet with a whistle to face Timmy.
"You, guy...who I married! Party. Costumes. Where? Dressed, let's get dressed. Stupid...thing we're doing..."
Timmy set about walking in the direction of the closet, though never removing his eyes from Russell. His actions were all slow, dreadfully so, from each footstep, to hand upon the door...handle turning sloooowly...
And Russell rushed the door, grumbling, reaching past Timmy and whipping out handfuls of spandex with a flippant toss towards the bed. He missed. He sighed deeply as he knelt to retrieve the costumes.
Timmy was soon standing by his side. "I'm sure Brad and Jackie would excuse our absence if you wished to stay in tonight."
"What? Why?"
"Well, I just thought-"
"We're going." He placed crumpled clothing on an uncharacteristically unmade bed, and stood back, examining his life. He felt Timmy's hand fall upon his shoulder, and flinched.
"I want you to understand something. Just one thing, and then we can put on ludicrous costumes, and walk down the hall and be chatted up by strangers. You can get slobbering drunk if you like, but I need you to hear this one thing. Really hear it."
"Uh-huh."
"You're listening, Russell?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever!"
Timmy's fingers pressed just a bit tighter into Russell's shoulder; Russell cooled under his touch.
"You seem so sure you're losing me, you appear threatened by...by my work, o-or a sense of complacency, or simply time."
"By you...coming to your senses."
"Stop it." Timmy made a slow circle to the front of Russell, his hand shifting from his shoulder across his neck, landing on his husband's chin, forcing his head upwards. When he was sure Russell was looking at him, really looking, he spoke with firm conviction. "Please, this is all I ask of you, and let me make this perfectly clear... I'm. Still. Here."
Russell's chest heaved a visible breath; slow. Heavy.
"Do not look through me when I'm standing right in front of you."
Russell could feel himself begin to break; he blinked away his tears, pulled the pieces back together, nodded slowly...and he diverted swiftly, pulling out from Timmy's touch and gravitating towards the bed and colorful distractions.
Timmy sat beside costumes on the bed, giving up the ghosts of suffering, allowing Russell his divergence. He sighed out, grasping at a bit of fabric. "These are terrible, why did I let you talk me into these?"
"So...picture me as a kid, right?"
"Not so difficult, you'd be about the same-"
"Same size, funny. So uh, when I was a kid, I spent a lot of time...alone, I didn't exactly have...actual friends. TV was a friend, and I would get all these ideas in my head whenever there was some super cool team, y'know, that...maybe someday I'd have somebody to be the Starsky to my Hutch. Duke to my Bo."
"Oh...well, dearest, I'm honored to fulfill that role for-"
"Mary Ann to my Ginger..."
"Ah, yes, well...both women."
Russell was building up that coy, lecherous smile Timmy was so familiar with, a far-off look in his eyes. "Lot of time alone together on that island...slim pickings on the men, I mean, the professor, maybe, but y'know those girls had goo-goo eyes for each other, and the curves on-"
"Eh-hem!"
"Whu-?" Russell looked to Timmy, glassy-eyed.
"Have you ever successfully gotten through a story without it derailing into sex? We've just gone from childhood memories to who's doing who on Gilligan's Island."
A bit begrudgingly, Russell returned to the task at hand, reaching for Timmy's costume and plunking it unceremoniously upon his partner's lap. "So, here. You're Robin."
"Why should I be Robin?"
"Because that's how it goes, I'm Batman, I get all the super-cool Batman stuff, and you're my sidekick. Although yeah, come to think of it, you're not really so much a Robin as you are a...swallow..."
Russell wore that stupid grin that so annoyed Timmy, hand raised in the air for a celebratory high-five; left hanging, naturally, and so the smile swiftly fell, and he stood, marching quickly away to change.
"You're gonna look hot in tights," Russell assured.
"You've seen me in tights before."
"When?" Russell called from the bathroom.
"You'd aimed to humiliate me," Timmy called back. He stood, holding up his costume for examination. "Ohhh, dear."
This cab was quiet...too quiet. If Kevin could have rolled down his window and jumped out, risking mortifying death in the process, he might have thought it a feasible alternative to his present predicament.
He'd be dead tomorrow, anyway. He'd get to work. Boss man would take one look at him and know. He would smell her on him, and it would all be over...
"So, you're Russell's new assistant?"
Kevin turned his attentions slowly back towards the girl who sat pressed against the opposite side of the cab; the girl in the kitty cat ears with the drawn-on whiskers.
No. Why did she have to be so remarkably cute? He tried to will himself to see Russell Dunbar in the girl, to try and turn himself off of her a touch, just a touch. Perhaps there was a family resemblance, he assured himself...and so there was, but not enough. Not enough to override a subtle smile full of charm and class and just a touch of nerves.
He hardly knew her...but damn it.
He liked her.
"Assistant, yeah. And you, uh...you're his..."
"This doesn't need to be weird," she assured.
"Ha!" He hadn't meant to laugh, certainly not loudly enough that the cab driver up front had taken notice, glaring just a touch too long in the rear-view mirror. Kevin brushed the man's eyes away with a grimace.
"Uh...how long have you been his assistant?"
"Not, uh...not long. A few months." Kevin, attempting humor, provided his most dashing smile and hair flip. "How long have you been his daughter?"
"A few months."
Kevin's smile fell swiftly, face locking in confusion. The pleasured giggle of amusement that followed from the girl did little to ease the sudden spinning in his brain. Perhaps insanity ran in the family.
At last Emily decided to ease her company's mind, for he seemed a touch bewildered, and more than a bit anxiety-ridden. "How well do you know Russell?"
"Uh...I dunno, we're getting there."
"Long-lost, illegitimate daughter. So...we're getting there, too."
Kevin seemed to relax at this bit of information, sighing heavily in relief, as though somehow she'd just uttered magic words. "Oh, man. Oh, god, you don't know how worried I was..."
"Why?"
"I thought he'd kill me...I mean, dating the boss's daughter, that's serious violation territory, y'know? But man, if you're not that close, that's a load off my-"
"Whoa, mister, back it up!" Emily might have thought to move further away from Kevin in this moment, but something compelled her to pull herself even closer to him, causing the fear to resurface in him, his body visibly tensing. "First of all, who said anything about dating?"
"I, uh...I just meant...I..."
"And second of all, Russell and I might be new to this whole father-daughter thing, but buster, he means business. Don't you think for a minute that he won't put you through the ringer if you pull a wrong move, so just..." She sighed out, bristling in annoyance, but unable to complete her thought.
Then, without another word, Emily pulled the cat ears from her head...and placed them atop Kevin's.
Kevin stared for some time at Emily, attempting to react to the rather odd assault. When finally he opened his mouth, prepared to speak, she beat him to the punch.
"You didn't have a costume. Can't go out on Halloween without a costume."
And although he tried to resist, although he wanted nothing more than to dash madly now from the trap he had placed himself quite willingly within, he smiled, and found her smiling back.
The cab pulled to a stop; upon Emily's exit, the cab driver spoke to Kevin as he handed over money. "Boss's daughter?"
"Yeah, man."
"Wearin' kitty ears."
"You know how it is."
"Whatever. Go get her, tiger."
Jen straightened the red wig atop her head and gave her reflection in the bedroom mirror a large grin. Yeah...she looked good. Adam seemed to agree, wrapping arms about her from behind.
"Man, Fred and Daphne just might make a baby in the Mystery Machine tonight. Good thing I bummed some stuff off of Shaggy and Scooby, this is gonna be one tight Halloween."
Jen scoffed, shoving Adam away. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on, honey, did you see how those guys ate? They had the munchies all the time."
"No...Adam, you aren't cleared to use your equipment for weeks, nobody's making a baby. Fix your ascot, I'll go find you a wig."
As Adam went about fixing himself in the mirror, Jen disappeared into the bedroom. "Hey, honey, how come you have all these wigs, anyway? Did you go through a wig phase, or something?"
"Something like that," she called back before returning with a short blonde piece. "Maybe we didn't think this through...between your face still being all rashy, the wig, tacky bell-bottoms, you look-"
"Great! I look great!"
Jen sighed, patting down the snug-fitted purple dress she wore. "Well, at least I look hot."
From the living room came a booming, "Hey! Where are you guys!?"
"Oh!" Jen beamed excitedly. "It's Jeff and Audrey, come on."
Having made their way to the living room, Adam and Jen did prompt double takes at the sight of the Binghams, followed by an awkward turnabout on the part of Jen.
She turned back finally, but shielded her eyes. "What, did you lose part of your costume?"
She had addressed Jeff, who stood embellished in leopard printed loincloth covering...not nearly enough, a simple strap across his chest and over one shoulder the only thing holding that sucker in place.
"What are you guys supposed to be?" asked Adam.
Audrey spoke up, patting down her matching ensemble, ensuring nothing was visible that shouldn't be. "We're Tarzan and Jane...I guess." There seemed a distinct lack of enthusiasm in this proclamation. "At least mine leaves a little to the imagination. Jeff waited too long to buy costumes, it was either this, or one of us got to be the tail end of a horse. Wouldn't have been much of a costume, I'm already going to this party with an ass."
"Pregnancy hormones talking," assured Jeff.
"Idiot husband talking," corrected Audrey.
"Oh, come on, can't be that bad." Jen made her way to Audrey, indicating her baby bump. "Looks like somebody's been getting busy in the jungle."
"She's just pissed because she knows she's gonna lose the bet." All eyes were suddenly on Jeff, as if he'd broken fine China with total lack of regard right in front of their faces. "Oh come on, we all know what's going on."
Adam rose a hand slowly. "I...still don't get what's happening here, what...what are we betting on? I heard something about horses...?"
Jen turned to Adam with a sigh. "They have the sex of the baby stashed away in an envelope somewhere and they're trying to get the other to break first and open the envelope for $100."
Ah, but the crucial piece of information Jen was unaware of: Jeff and Audrey had both already looked without the other knowing, they both knew the sex of their child, and the game now? Don't let the other know how much they sucked at life. Secondary goal: Get the other to break first. They both really already knew how much they sucked, anyway.
Adam seemed to be contemplating this scenario a bit too long. Then, finally, his summation of the situation was revealed as thus: "Huh. Yeah, sounds like you guys really just wanna look at the results but your desire for competition with one another is manifesting in really unhealthy ways. If you're already using your unborn child as a manipulation device, I'd maybe just take a step back and do some self-examination before the kid's born, y'know, but hey, what do I know?" He grinned, chuckled lightly. "My penis is in a sling, ain't nobody makin' a baby with that thing."
All eyes fell on Adam in stunned silence. He nodded back with a gentle smile before turning with a light gasp.
"Oh! Be right back, forgot my flashlight. Can't hunt ghosts without a flashlight! It gets dark in those swamps. Whooooooo!"
Batman and Robin were walking down the hall. Adam West and Burt Ward they were not, and Timmy was growing more than slightly irritated at Russell's insistence on muttering "Bang!" and "Pow!", thrusting a hand against his mouth by the time they'd reached their neighbors door.
Timmy gave himself a final look over. "I suppose the whole comic book pandemonium never quite caught up to me, I was always so involved with academia...I don't look a touch ridiculous?"
"Nah, it's your color, man, you look great."
"My color? Red, green, yellow, I look as through a box of Crayolas exploded all over me."
"I wouldn't mind exploding all-"
"No."
Russell sighed in irritation. "Whatever." He pulled an item from his belt, excitedly. "See my Batarang?!"
"What?"
"My Bata- never mind, you're uncultured."
"All I know is these tights are riding up in all the wrong places."
"I wouldn't mind riding up in all the wrong-"
"Russell!"
Russell's eyes practically rolled back in his head as he set about mocking Timmy. "Neh, neh, neh, 'Russell! I hate when you do that, eeeee!', totally sounds like you, right? Did I nail it? Like I'm gonna nail you later, even though you totally hate me and everything I say?"
Timmy stared wide-eyed at Russell; now, this might have gone one of several ways. Timmy might have responded in the expected manner, either with dismissive acceptance that this was the life he was fated to, a life of eternal torture. He might have fought back with his own brand of sarcasm, a bit of tit-for-tat. But no, not this evening. This evening, Timmy snorted. He laughed, head falling against Russell's shoulder in a most affectionate manner. And Russell, taken aback at this response, but not at all displeased, patted the back of his sweet Robin, as if perhaps he needed comforted in this moment.
Perhaps he'd lost his mind.
When at last the couple made their way inside, they were greeted warmly by a smiling Jackie. "Hey, fellas! Food to the left, drinks to the right, mingle, mingle! Where's that hubby of mine, I know I saw him somewhere..." Quite abruptly, he pulled Timmy away by an arm. "Timir, I want you to meet somebody. Oh, my god, what a coincidence, we both snagged a bat tonight. BRADLEY, front and center!"
And there appeared Brad...dressed as a much more modern Batman, and chuckling at the sight of Russell.
"That is Russell Dunbar under there?"
"Brad. Hey, thanks for the invite."
"The invite you coerced, but yeah, you're welcome. Diggin' the costume, check us out man, kind of a generational thing."
"Yeah, back atcha. Except y'know, uh...Batman isn't black."
Brad pulled back only slightly at the remark. "You've never heard of the Dark Knight?"
"Good one."
"Take a look at Indian Boy Wonder over there..." Brad gestured towards Timmy, standing with Jackie and looking only slightly uncomfortable with over-enthusiastic introductions.
"What's your point?" Huh. Funny how irritating those words had been coming from somebody else. Why had that bugged him...just a little...?
"No, nothing. Just, for somebody in your position, you're head's kinda in the sand..."
Russell held himself apprehensive. "Define 'my position?'"
"Seriously, Russell, I've gotta lay this out for you? Have you looked in the mirror lately, you wanna go down the check list, here? You're in an interracial, May/December, same-sex marriage and you're gonna stand here stoppin' cars because Batman ain't black?"
"Hey, whoa, back it up here, DECEMBER?! Did you seriously just call me DECEMBER?!"
Brad groaned out lightly, realizing instantly how little he should be surprised. "Okay fine, November?"
Russell grumbled in apprehension.
"September, how's that do ya?"
"I-iii..."
"Not putting you in the summer, you can forget it."
It was the first drug shop Adam had spotted between their apartment building and their destination. The group had allowed him to stop their cab, begrudgingly, and had even followed him into the store after ten minutes of waiting.
The hell was taking him so long?
"They don't have my shade," he said, kneeling before a row of off-brand cosmetics.
"Just grab this one and let's go!" urged Jen.
"Oh, come on, do I look like an 'Ivory' to you?"
"You look like a moron! Nobody's gonna care about your face, stop acting like such a big baby about this."
In the next aisle over, the Binghams stood staring at a row of pink and blue baby accessories. They had to kill time, somehow...why not utilize these precious moments to their advantage?
A little leg up on the competition.
"Who knew they sold onesies at the drug store?" said Jeff. He pointed out a pink number and read the words imprinted on the front aloud. "Pretty Like Mommy."
Audrey pointed to the blue onesie to its side. "Handsome Like Daddy."
Somehow, this hadn't had the desired effect. Both Jeff and Audrey had a profound sinking feeling of guilt; they avoided looking at one another, now.
"Guess, uh...guess we'll just...have to buy both," spoke Audrey flatly. "Since, y'know...we don't know...what we're having, and all."
"Yeah!" jumped in Jeff, snatching both onesies quickly. "Yeah, sure. Sure, that's...that's what we need to do. Both onesies, mystery baby in there." And they hurried around the corner towards Jen and Adam, avoiding further conversation.
Glad for the distraction from more important emotional affairs, they glared towards the Rhodes, still knelt upon the floor.
"Having fun?" asked Audrey gruffly. "Seriously, what's the hold up?"
"Adam forgot to cover up his pox face," Jen bemoaned, "he thinks everybody at the party's gonna freak out."
"Ah, c'mon!" Jeff yanked at Adam's arm, hoisting him from the floor. "Seriously, we pulled over for Cover Girl, here?"
Adam, ignoring the nay-sayers surrounding him, reached back down and grabbed his makeup of choice triumphantly. "I believe I'm a Golden Beige, thank you. I'll make my purchase and we'll be on our way."
The big jerks followed Adam to the counter, where he made his...uh...
Where he failed to find any means with which to pay for his purchase.
"Hey, uh, honey, I can't find my wallet, I think I left it at home..."
"Why did you leave your wallet at home?"
"These pants are super tight, ain't nothing fittin' in these puppies. I do have this..." From his belt he detached a small flashlight.
"Why, yes," said Jeff. "Pay the man in light..."
Adam turned to Jen. "Where's your purse?"
"None of my bags matched my outfit."
The Binghams stood in silent contemplation, coming to terms with the audacity of the revelation before them.
"So you guys..." Jeff let off an indignant laugh of disbelief. "You're leechin' off our cab fare, and now we're supposed to buy drug store makeup for Mystery Inc.?"
Jen shrugged with an apologetic smile. "Sorry..."
"You owe me." Jeff patted all about his barely covered nether regions; his face pulled in confusion. "Uhh...hey, Audrey, did I give you my wallet? Wow, those...are words I just said."
"Oh, yeah, it's in my purse."
"Which...is...where?"
"It's..." Audrey froze in realization. "In the cab, oh...my god!" She ran to the front door of the shop in panic. She peered out she door of the shop only to find... "The cab's gone!"
Stranded. Moneyless. In stupid costumes.
Yaaaay.
Russell had spotted a familiar figure not long after entering the room. He'd resisted her, finding her presence slightly discomforting, their last meeting having resulted in something of a revelation, a coming out, if you will.
Then again, he barely knew anyone at this party, and he had come to realize that these things weren't nearly so entertaining sans his once-usual beat of hitting up random women. He was bored. Let's go talk to the only people in the room he recognized at all.
"Hey..."
"Think I recognize the voice...take off the stupid bat ears..."
"A superhero never reveals his secret identity. Wanna see my Batarang? If you know what I mean..."
"Yeah, it's you. Holy crow, get a load of Super Sleaze!"
"Brenda. Showing off the goods tonight." Sure enough; a daring look for Brenda, perhaps, touch of the sexy kitty? Low cut top, pleather hugging all the right places? Intriguing. "Y'know, I'm willing to overlook that whole lesbian mess for a few hours if you are."
"Uh-huh. So, how's Timmy's penis?"
Russell popped his lips, sizing up his opponent. He drew a quick retreat. "Timmy's... Good, it's..." He coughed. "Real good, so what are you doing here? You're in with Brad?"
"Yeah, funny thing about that. We were both attending a Gay Agenda meeting, recently...did you not get your invite, yet? Well, we realized we both know Jeff, and Jackie enjoys my kabobs, so..."
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you made up parts of that story."
"Scout's honor."
"They let your kind in Scouts?"
"Where's your smarter half? Does he look as ridiculous as you?"
Brenda's answer came post-haste in the form of a grimacing, grumbling Timmy. He scarcely noticed her presence, focusing all attentions instead on the cause of his discontent.
"I'll have you know I'm five minutes from going home and stripping down to nothing. Here, drink this." Timmy shoved a glass of something undisclosed in Russell's face, taking a large drink from a second; he turned sharply only at the sound of Brenda's snicker.
"Think you could've skipped dressing like idiots and pouring liquor down his throat, he'd have gone straight to the stripping if you'd asked nicely."
Timmy's demeanor changed all at once at the sight of Brenda; all smiles and pleasantries, topped with a half-hug.
"Well hey, that answers my question," said Brenda.
"What question was that?"
"You both look ridiculous." She pulled up Timmy's cape, giving a small wink. "Think you pull off the tights better."
Russell wove a finger. "Watch it."
"Oh, yeah," snarked Brenda. "Totally switching teams for your husband's legs." Then, in whispered confidence to Timmy: "I might, though."
Timmy chuckled through a smile, raising his glass.
"Ugggh." Russell rolled eyes and sighed heavily. "Whatever, who here isn't lame?" And he began his slow journey away from a slightly uncomfortable reunion.
Timmy watched him go before returning to Brenda. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For...you know, the last time we met. Audrey's little photo shoot...the closet..."
"Oh, pft...no, hey, that was ages ago. So how are you guys? Still 'you guys,' obviously."
"Oh, yes, of course, rock solid."
"Dunno how you do it, Timmy."
Timmy shrugged, sloshing his glass of probably-wine, observing the liquid move. "How does anyone fall in love...how does anyone stay in love? These are the real mysteries."
"How much have you had to drink?"
Timmy looked back to Brenda with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Uhm...a bit, why do you ask?"
Russell was practically amazed at his newfound abilities of sexual suppression. This party was full of more tit and tail than you could shake a stick at, skimpy costumes out (and up) the wazoo. And while his body had attempted to respond as it always had, there'd been slightly less inclination to do so. Was he growing blind to the booty?
Something was shifting in his brain. Because he knew, for all the women he wouldn't be bedding tonight, there was a man who'd chosen to humiliate himself in ill-fitting tights and itchy spandex, all for Russell's fleeting emotional benefit.
Why did that turn him on more than a room full of beautiful women? How could it? Russell turned to where his Robin stood talking to the lesbian bar-hop and found his husband turn towards him with a smile, as though he knew he'd be looking at him, as though he could have sensed such a thing.
Hell, he was cute. Yeah...maybe they should have stayed home tonight...
"You look like just the hero I need."
Russell flipped towards the source of the voice. He found before him a women dressed in a tattered white evening gown, cut low. The rest of her pale white as well, ghostly so, and chestnut hair all array. She looked rather dead, at that.
"Hey. Killer costume."
She stared at him. She stared practically through him, expressionless...
"Before you get any big ideas, I know the Dunbar charm is a real magnet but uh, I'm here with somebody, so..."
She had snatched him by an arm and dragged him forcefully away before he could say anymore. Russell peered back towards Timmy in desperation, but he'd already set his sights back on Brenda, chatting carelessly away.
Russell had already been pulled like a little lost puppy halfway across the room, attentions focused elsewhere as he pled wordlessly with his mankeeper, when he turned to ghost woman, tearing himself from her grasps.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing!"
She continued to give him the same blank stare, with large, practically glowing eyes, a distant look on her face.
"Are you baked or something?"
"You can help me."
"Lady, I've been there, summer of '97 I got slipped something, put my libido in a tailspin. I know you're struggling. But I told you, I'm here with-"
"You think a great deal about sex."
"Uh..."
"Sex is for the living."
Russell joined the ghost woman now in her deathly staring, for this statement had come across more than a touch ominous, and his only consolation seemed the room full of other living, breathing souls surrounding them.
That's when Russell realized something.
They were no longer in the center of the room. They were pressed neatly up against a wall, the ghost woman having inched nearer and nearer to Russell. Russell having inched further and further backwards, until he hit with a bam and held his breath, voicing only a soft, nervous laugh.
And this woman, it seemed, knew a secret.
For a moment later, she had pushed past Russell, opening the door hidden nearly flush behind his back, sending him hurdling to the floor, and out of the room.
Emily really should have known better. She'd heard the word "club," she'd agreed to his choice of venue, knowing next to nothing of the man or his tastes. And now panic had begun to set in. She'd blindly trusted Kevin, knowing only of the naturally inviting energy he exuded, and his connection to Russell seemed somehow a safety net.
But this club was loud, dark, and smelled of alcohol and sweat. This wasn't her scene...what was she doing here? Her scene was...what? What was her 'scene'? Libraries, museums, oh god she was crazy lame, play it cool now, Emily, he likes you, just pretend you belong here.
Why was she trying so hard impress somebody she clearly had nothing in common with?
Was this guy safe...really? She turned to him where they sat at the bar, cat ears still placed slightly askew atop his head. Cute. They'd attempted conversation for awhile but had fallen now into an uncomfortable silence, both tapping the sides of their glasses, searching for words. She drank a Coke; he drank a beer.
Emily reached for the phone in her pocket. "Oh, excuse me, I have a text message, I'll be just a second..." She had no incoming message. Instead, she sent one.
Emily: 411 on Kevin
Timmy: Why are you asking about Kevin?
Emily: I'm out with him right now. Don't tell Russell.
Timmy appeared to be typing for a long time...long enough to concern Emily, her heart racing, as though he were about to tell her some horrific revelation about the man to her side, and then...
Timmy: OMG
And no more.
And Kevin's phone rang.
Emily looked to Kevin, eyes wide as he reached for his phone. He looked to the caller ID, face pulling in confusion.
"I'm sorry!" she rushed, whipping a hand over her mouth, praying her cheeks were not presently turning deep crimson.
He answered with a meek voice, as if preparing himself for a lecture. "Hey, Timmy."
"What on earth are you doing, are you trying to get yourself fired...or better yet, killed? Do you have any idea who you're with right now?!"
"Yeah, I, uh...I kinda got the gist, man."
"What are your intentions with Emily?"
"Dude, you...you sound like you're the dad right now, what's the deal?"
"Well, in a sense, I am. Now, you listen here, if you think for one moment you're going to hurt that girl-"
Emily's hands had both proceeded to cover her face, but she cleared her mouth now, just enough to speak. "I made a mistake."
Kevin spoke away from the phone. "He's defending your honor."
"I forget sometimes he's my step-dad."
"You've got a weird family, Emily."
Russell had tumbled into the room only moments earlier, and found himself now unraveling his cape to find himself in a dimly lit bedroom. He stood, fumbling, breath heavy and confused.
"What the hell?!"
"Bloody Mary."
He flipped to face the source of the voice.
The ghost woman.
"You can call me Bloody Mary." She walked a slow, wide circle around him on light feet, practically floating.
"...Why are you doing this, Mary?"
"I am a lover scorned. I have died here. He killed me. And so... I shall kill him."
"Kill who...?"
She stopped just in front of him. She held out a hand, drifting closer and closer to his face, and then lingering.
She appeared to be lost again.
Should he run now? Where would he run to? Why did Brad and Jackie's place have secret doors, their place didn't have secret doors, what the hell was happening?!
She posed a question. "Who have you come with to this place, today?"
"I'm...I'm married."
"Oh..." For once the ghost woman showed a hint of emotion, head tilting down in shame. "Far be it for me to bestow the same betrayal upon another woman the likes of which I myself have felt the sting."
"A-a dude, I'm married to a dude."
Her head shot back up, eyes glowing, teeth gnashing in anger. "Death to all men!" She grabbed Russell firmly by the head, leg now straddling his side, and drew him to her, placing her mouth to his with a deep, rage-filled heat.
It took Russell a mere moment to register what was happening. And once he had, body full of shock in place of earnest lust, he drew himself free, in nothing short of a dead panic.
"What the hell, lady!"
She appeared confused by the denial, but a moment later laughed it off in a most wicked way, the low cackle sending a chill down Russell's spine.
"You could have all of this," she said, motioning up and down the length of her body, hands resting gently on a pair of heaving breasts accentuated with a tinge of what appeared to be blood.
Enticing.
"Yeah, I..." A deep breath. Steady. "Don't want all of that, so keep moving."
"Wow." She nearly broke, this ghost woman, demeanor surprisingly casual, as if she'd been putting on an act for his benefit this entire time. "You really are gay."
"Yes!" Russell saw his out, standing tall and self-assured. "Gay, totally gay and you're creepy as hell so there's no way this is happening, huh?" He found himself relaxing, a bit too prideful in his denial. He walked nonchalantly to the center of the room, leaning against what he shortly came to realize was a bedpost...and pulled his hand away, tucking it under his arm with a smile. "Boy oh boy, would love to do things in this bed right now with other men, no women, hate women. Wanna do gay things. With my husband. Just my husband, married man, did I mention that?"
She looked him up and down, taking note of his obvious discomfort in this present situation. And those large, intense eyes bore back into Russell. "I can read men like an ever-open book, and you've left your pages wide for me to see."
"Wh...what?"
"Doth protest too much. You're a scoundrel and a cad. You want this body, you're the same as any other man...why do you resist? No man can be so good..."
"Yeah, well..."
"Why is this so complicated?! All I wish to do is rip out the hearts of men, for this I should be punished?!"
"Russell?" A new voice. Both Russell and Bloody Mary turned towards a door, Russell bolting towards it, the ghost woman bolting in the opposite direction.
And Timmy, upon entering the room, appeared quite unprepared for the emotional assault that was to come. Russell grabbed him quite firmly, forcing him inside in a death-grip of a hug. When at last he had let him go, he turned towards an empty room, pointing.
"A-ha! I told you I had a-" But she was gone.
Timmy could voice nothing but a hollow, "Uhhmm..." for he was already a touch inebriated this evening and his brain was working to catch up.
"The ghost lady, Bloody Mary!"
"You do look as if you've seen a ghost...why are you in here? I've been looking for you, this apartment has a most peculiar layout..." It was now that Timmy made clear the bottle of wine he held, taking a swig quite casually as he looked about the room.
"I'm telling you, it was this ghost chick, she took me through the wall and made a pass at me, something about death to all men..."
"You're telling me a woman came back from the dead and the first man she chose to throw herself at was you?" Timmy walked past Russell with a low chuckle.
"Dude! I'm serious, this..." Russell grabbed Timmy by the shoulders, flipping him back around. "It really happened, she forced me in here, she kissed me, she said she wants to rip out men's hearts or something, you might have just saved my life!"
Timmy, appearing far too calm given the circumstances, stated simply: "You're delirious."
Russell nearly shook the man. "Timmy!"
Timmy found a strange pleading in Russell's eyes, one of fear and just a hint of lust.
(The opposite of many a night spent under Timmy's domination, where the look of lust surpassed the hint of fear...but that was quite beside the point, of course, and Timmy's mind was not at all drifting to thoughts of...)
"Timmy!"
"What? Oh, the woman, she...wait, you said she kissed you?"
"Are you...have you been drinking?" Russell snatched the bottle from Timmy's hand, finding the liquid content far too low. "Dude..."
"Well, I...you said this woman made a pass at you...she kissed you? Where?"
"Right here, in this room, you just missed her!"
"No, I meant-"
The men were startled abruptly by the sound of screaming; a man and a woman, and coming from the other side of the room...a hallway leading out, they came to find, dashing madly in the direction of the voices, halting just outside the exit of the room. They spoke in hushed whispers.
"That sounds like her, that's the chick!"
"Who is she talking to?"
"I don't know..."
Timmy peered down the hall, unable to find the source of the voices. "How big is this place? Do you think they're paying more in rent than we are?"
"We don't have any secret bedrooms..." Russell grumbled. "Barely fit all our crap into one place."
"Do you suppose they leased two apartments and tore down a wall?"
"I dunno, how crazy are these people?"
"Brad and Jackie? They seem normal enough."
Russell jumped at a loud shriek. "We should really be paying attention to..."
"The scuffle down the hall, yes."
But everything had gone quiet, now; too quiet, mere moments earlier having heard a great deal of heated commotion between Bloody Mary and some mystery man. And so the two consulted silently with one another for a moment. Russell relinquished Timmy's wine bottle to the floor, setting Timmy onto a minimal amount of fussing, before the men set about treading lightly, surreptitiously down the hall, knowing not what they would find. They held onto one another's arms, both growing ever more nervous at the ominous silence accompanying them down the hall until finally their legs forced them to stop, having run into an object upon the ground.
Russell and Timmy looked first to one another, holding breath. Then, slowly, verrry slowly, they turned their heads down to find...
"Oh, shit!" Russell let loose of Timmy, jumping back from the body.
Timmy held steady, examining the man upon the floor, but his voice rose just a touch in pitch. "Russell...calm...calm down..."
"Dude, she said she was gonna kill somebody! Something a-about being a scorned...a scorned lover, she axed this guy!"
"He's probably just...unconscious, o-or-"
"He's covered in blood!"
Upon further examination Timmy saw red covering the poor man's torso, and took a step back; his breath grew visibly hard in his chest, and still he maintained composure as best he could to counter Russell's lack of ease. "He's...in costume, likely...a vampire, prop blood, he...can't be..."
"No...! No...! She was psycho, man, what the hell, we're witnesses to murder!" Russell began to hyperventilate, hands flailing rapidly in a dead panic.
"Please, Russell, you have to calm down!" Timmy looked all about, and, finding no other chance of resolution, slapped Russell firm across the face.
Russell, stunned speechless, glared at Timmy briefly; and then, having no better means of retaliation, slapped him straight back.
So there they both stood, hard breaths and wide eyes, scarcely recalling where they were or why they'd forced the stings of pain that had awoken them both in this moment. Yes, this had been something of a mistake, as they grabbed one another thereafter and met mouths in a fit of passion, thinking nothing more of the matter at hand.
Until, that is, Russell's foot chanced brush against the man upon the floor, and he pulled his tongue from its familiar home in Timmy's mouth, crying desperately, "Oh, my god, what are we doing, there's a dead dude on the floor!"
Timmy nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes, uhm...uhm, ch-check his pulse, have we checked his pulse?"
Russell fell to the floor, placing fingers upon the man. "Nooo pulse..."
"Ohhh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god."
"What do we do?!"
"We...we go, and...and tell somebody, we have to..."
Russell heard a thump, and turned to find Timmy fallen, passed out upon the floor.
Jeff and Audrey had split the trail from the kids a few minutes earlier, vowing to meet up again if they found anybody; pick-pocketing on Halloween night in the middle of nowhere dressed in practically nothing, this was fun. The group had spotted what appeared to be a small park on the opposite end of the street, and it appeared a better option than standing on the corner dressed as...well, whatever they were dressed as, waiting to be picked up by whatever types were willing to pick them up on Halloween night in New York City...they'd make it worth their while, surely, but Jeff wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of a career move.
They were already late for this stupid party they didn't really want to go to. They were too busy with a stupid bet they couldn't remember the rules of, sitting on a secret that wasn't even a secret. Something to do with babies and both of them being stubborn asses, so what else was new, and-
There came a breeze; Jeff caught a glimpse of Audrey shivering. They were painfully underdressed for the end of October, and he held an arm around her now. She smiled up at him.
And together, they saw somebody coming down the other end of the path...
The club sucked. Kevin had realized shortly after the fiasco that was Timmy's phone call that he and Emily were in the wrong place, and needed to breathe...to get to really know one another someplace a bit more secluded.
They chose the park. Just a little place nearby that Emily knew, better than music and madness. They were walking a slow journey down a path, talking leisurely now that they could really hear one another without the intrusion of a hundred other voices.
"But he really doesn't mean to come across that way," Emily insisted. "Timmy is a little...high strung."
"You wanna know how we met? They were sleeping together at work."
"What?!" Her nose scrunched in confusion...too cute, she was too cute, he nearly lost his train of thought.
"Ahh...no, uhm, in his office, literally asleep. I caught on later that they'd gotten stoned the night before-"
"No! What?"
"Yeah, passed out high...on marijuana...on your father's office floor. I'm in solid, now, he keeps things cool between me and Russell, so I mean, this...? This thing that's happening right now? That's why. Your dad can't keep an assistant to save his life, he is the world's worst boss, and frankly the last thing I need is that guy for a father-in-law, but..."
"Who-o-oa, back the train up!" Emily's feet came to a grinding halt.
It seemed Kevin had realized straight away his blunder, for his face had pulled quite profoundly and the breath he pulled in created a long, slow hiss. He was in for another lecture.
"You're talking marriage, I don't even know your last name!"
"I...was getting to that!"
She nodded rapidly. "Oh, were you, you were getting to that? You seem so fixated on the fact that I have Russell Dunbar for a father that you can't relax for five minutes and realize that you're here with me right now! Do you see Russell, anywhere?"
Kevin made a point of barely turning his head at all...no. No, of course he wasn't there. It didn't stop every nerve in his body from rapid firing, but for all intents and purposes, he could say with very little reasonable doubt: "No."
"Okay! Then hello, my name is Emily Swanson-"
"Not Dunbar?"
"No! Illegitimate daughter, we just met, keep up!"
"Stoker."
"...What?"
"Kevin Stoker."
And all the tension fell from Emily, all at once. She smiled that warm smile that so drew Kevin in...and for a moment he felt as if he might grow quite foolhardy. So what if they'd just met? Hell, he knew her last name now...
Pick her up, whip her around like they do in the movies, tell you you've just met her but you've fallen madly in love with her, kiss her on the lips and say-
"Oh, thank god we found somebody, we are in desperate need of money."
Kevin and Emily turned to face the Binghams, who, despite looking quite relieved, set Emily about in instant panic.
Perhaps it had been the request for money in the middle of the night; perhaps she was already on edge, this evening, and Jeff was quite a harrowing character, barely visible and barely dressed.
She screamed. A rather high-pitched scream, leaving everyone around her startlingly confused. "I have pepper spray!" She began rummaging through her purse. "S-somewhere!"
"Real effective," said Kevin, far too relaxed for Emily's liking. "By the time you spray Prehistoric Man he's already robbed us blind, good going."
Emily stopped rummaging long enough to give Kevin a cross glare. "I don't see you trying to stop them, we're being held up by a team of costumed criminals and the best you can do is stand there making fun of me, just great!"
"Hey, Emily..."
"Timmy was right, I should have left you back at that club, now I'm gonna get robbed in the middle of this park, in the middle of the night..."
"EMILY! I know these guys!"
"And I didn't even get a second date out of it...wait, what did you say?"
"I mean, acquainted...not intimately...I used to deliver their pizzas."
Jeff snapped his fingers, pointing in excited recognition. "Kevin, buddy! They've got some new guy on your beat now, always late with the pies...I mean, we get free pizza out of it, but we miss your face, where'd ya go?"
Audrey smiled affectionately. "Sure kept you busy for awhile, there. Did we pay your way through college, or what?" Then, with a sly nudge: "Who's your lady friend?"
"Heh..." He avoided the question with a compliment. "You look great, Mrs. Bingham, I see the baby's coming right along. Pizza does a body good, huh? But, uh...I'm using my degree now, graduated from pizza. Assistant to a top executive, you know how it goes."
The Binghams nodded, quite impressed at this announcement, until...
"There you guys are!" Adam and Jen came jogging up the path. "No luck, man, not another living soul in this park."
"We got a live one," Jeff indicated.
Adam appeared quite pleased at the sight of- "Kevin! Dude, what are you doing here? What are the chances of that?"
Adam held out his ever-trusty flashlight, shining it first on Kevin's face, then on each person before him in succession, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. "Heh...bet you guy's aren't makin' fun of this little baby now, huh?"
"You two know each other?" asked Audrey, getting back to the point.
"Oh. Of course we do. This is Russell's assistant."
Near riotous laughter emerged from both Tarzan and Jane. Silent onlookers in the still of the night witnessed their great amusement at Kevin's expense.
"You left pizza for Russell!" managed Audrey at last.
"Top executive," said Jeff, recovering with a deep breath. "Ah boy, that was great stuff, right there."
"Okay, very...very funny, yeah. Best date of my life, out with the boss's daughter, angry calls from the husband, let's just run into everybody he's ever known while we're at it, I swear to god if I see Russell tonight I'm just gonna-"
"Do what?" asked Emily, a touch sternly.
"Tell...tell him he has a lovely daughter."
Jen was the first to pick up on the pertinent details of this exchange, rushing to the front of the group. "Wait, are you Emily?!"
Emily smiled small and soft. "Oh, ah...yes?"
"Oh my gosh, we've heard so much about you! This isn't exactly how I thought we'd meet..."
"Wait, who?" asked Adam.
She turned back to the group, excited. "Russell's daughter, Emily!"
And suddenly Emily was being glomped upon by the likes of Jen, Adam, and Audrey. Kevin made his way slowly over to Jeff, who suddenly felt the safest party on this trail.
"Gonna go out on a limb, here," said Jeff.
"Yeah...?"
"You're in way over your head."
"How well do you all know Russell and Timmy?" Kevin asked hopefully. Maybe not very well. Maybe they barely ever spoke.
"Russell's gonna know by tomorrow that you were out with this girl."
Kevin moaned out long and low, pressing his face to his hands.
"Now, get us a cab, New Timmy, we're late for a party."
Upon finding his way back out of the winding maze of Brad and Jackie's hidden hallways...seriously, why wasn't their apartment anything like this?!...he was relieved to find the only three people he knew at this damned party congregated in one convenient cluster.
"Timmy's passed out on the floor next to a dead body!"
They were less than responsive to what Russell clearly deemed an emergency; as a matter of fact, Russell found that Brad, Jackie, and Brenda did little more than laugh dismissively in his face.
"Passed out next to a dead body?" Brenda snorted. "Is that any different from his marriage to you?"
"First of all...ow, who pushed your bitch button? And second of all, this is SERIOUS, what's wrong with everybody?! He didn't believe me either until he saw a body!"
Jackie wove Russell down with a chuckle. "Thank you for the compliment, I did go all out on the decorations this year. One of my skeletons must have fallen, you boys mistook it for a corpse, could happen to anybody."
Russell smiled with a laugh. "Oh. Oh, yeah, super job on the decor there, real great, just wondering, uhm..." He grabbed Jackie by the collar, shaking. "Do plastic skeletons bleed?!"
Brad pulled Russell from his husband. "Hey, whoa whoa, chill out! Chill. Okay, we're listening. Now, where's Timmy?"
"No, no, no, this can't be happening!"
They'd found Timmy. Right where he'd left him, passed out on the floor.
But the body was gone.
"How much have you had to drink?" asked Brad.
"I'm not the one who's been drinking," said Russell as he went to work trying to revive Timmy. He grabbed him by the arms, shaking him harder and harder, but to no avail.
"Hey!" Brenda reached for Russell, curtailing the jostling. "What, are you trying to shake his brain loose, cut it out, you can't wake him up that way!"
Russell stood back up, gazing down on a limp Timmy. "This is all the ghost chick's fault."
"Ghost chick?" queried Brad.
"I tried to stop her, told her I was married, but she kept pushing it, ghost chicks are horny."
"Let me get this straight," said Jackie. "Some woman came back from the dead and out of all the men at this party she tried to throw herself at you?" Upon Russell's narrow-eyed glare he fine-tuned the insult. "I mean, look at me, I'd have a better chance."
"Okay, I get it..."
"I could leave here, go straight to a Pride rally, still land your ghost chick."
"Yeah, I got it!" Russell turned back to Timmy on the floor, collapsing to his knees. "I've gotta wake him up."
Everyone was losing patience. Brad shook his head. "C'mon, what are you gonna do? We'll just leave him here, he'll wake up on his own, he'll...oh."
Russell grabbed Timmy by the head, firmly, and kissed him. Deeply, tongue in mouth, just work the tongue. It was a bit like kissing a corpse, he wagered...but he knew it would work. Just...a little...longer...
There we go. To the surprise of somewhat sickened onlookers, Timmy's arms wrapped behind Russell's back, pulling him instinctively deeper. And then came the soft moaning. He, uh...he was awake. Clearly.
"We should go," said Brenda.
"I'm repulsed," said Jackie, "yet...strangely fascinated." He found himself unable to remove his eyes from the scene on the floor.
"Okay," said Brad, "so I've got Batman and Robin making out on my floor, Batman claims there's a ghost woman wandering around and somehow this all has something to do with a dead body that gets up and walks away all on its own." He turned away with a sigh. "Last party I ever invite the Dunbar-Patels to, I ain't kidding this time."
Kevin and Emily watched as the Binghams and the Rhodes left the cab, making a straight line for Russell's apartment building...funny.
"This is where we started," noted Kevin as the cab took off.
"Yeah, I guess so," said Emily. "Not much of a first date."
"So this was a date? And, uh...first implies there's going to be more, so...just to make this perfectly clear, I mean, first you say we're not dating, then you keep calling this a date, I just...you know...pfffft..."
"Well, there's a fundamental difference between going out on dates and dating."
Kevin held both hands to his face, gathering the strength to continue this conversation. Women. Ugh, WOMEN.
Well. Let's just take a shot, man. "Fine. Uh. Since the club was so loud, y'know, didn't get to talk much, and your dad's horde crashed our little moonlit stroll..."
"Tomorrow."
"What?"
"I'm free Tomorrow night, you can pick me up at home. I'll text you the address. Get my number from Timmy. I won't talk to him or Russell, you lay low at work, we should be fine."
It had all been spoken as if in direct order, as if perhaps they were involved in something quite clandestine, both spies in the midst of a secret undercover operation. The next thing he felt was her hand slither upon his leg, though her eyes now faced forward. And he watched crawl upon her face the most coy of smiles; irresistible.
Tomorrow night, then.
Russell sat on a plush sofa staring miserably forward, drink in hand. In the other hand he held a mask, a set of bat ears, staring into his alter-ego, contemplating life itself. His aim now was to get drunk. Very, very drunk.
He knew what had happened. He knew that chick had thrown herself at him, he knew that guy had been laying on the floor. He and Timmy had conducted a brief manhunt upon Timmy's revival. Nobody had seemed overtly interested in joining them in this endeavor, and they had come up empty.
They were just gone.
"I hate to say it," said Timmy, sitting to Russell's side.
"Say it."
"Perhaps...now, this may be the wine talking, but perhaps what happened here tonight was not...entirely within the realms of...it may have been..."
"She was an actual ghost."
"It sounds stupid when you say it. But then, better she were a ghost. Anybody who attempts intimacy with you will find they've lost the will to live, she merely skipped a step."
"Hey!" Russell nudged Timmy rough against a tighted thigh. "You're one to talk... Mr. Not Dead."
"Can you be sure of that?" He tilted his head down in such a manner as to peer at Russell from the top of his eyes, reaching out one hand in a menacing manner.
Russell let off a soft chuckle, amused yet growing slightly nervous as it grew clear Timmy would not be letting up. "C'mon, Tim, knock it off..."
His hand inched closer to Russell, whose breath caught, Timmy's outstretched fingers all at once grasping him by the neck.
And upon the other side of Russell's neck came Timmy's head, latching fangs, which might have drawn blood if he'd only aimed them to. Russell held Timmy's head to his, falling into laughter.
Brad leaned against the back of the sofa with a curious huff out. "You guys have an apartment down the hall, you know that, right?"
Timmy righted himself as he attempted to piece together a reasonable explanation for his lack of decorum this evening. Nothing, he could reason out nothing. And so, instead, he excused himself from Russell, pulling Brad aside to speak in confidence.
"This evening hasn't gone as planned..."
"Hey, it's cool. Just don't have sex in my living room, and we're good, man."
"No...no, I..."
"Brad!" Jeff joined the scene, crew in tow. "We tried to make it earlier, we really did, but..." He paused, looking Timmy up and down. "Ridiculous."
Timmy nodded. "Yes, well..." He motioned towards all of Jeff, then gave a grand wave towards the rest of the gang. "Save for Jennifer, of course, lovely as ever."
Jen smiled warmly at Timmy, who smiled back.
"And Audrey, questionable ensemble, but I shan't begrudge a pregnant woman her beauty, you're ever radiant."
Audrey curtseyed, granting an appreciative smile.
"Hey, Tim," shot Adam. "How do I...?"
"No."
Russell had forced himself to join the group by now, and Jeff looked down on Batman and Robin with a slight chuckle. "Excellent. I must remember this." Turning back to Brad, "Listen, we've been trying to get to the party, but Pox Face over here-"
"Adam, my name is Adam!"
No time for explanations, for a moment later came screaming quite riotous from the opposite end of the apartment. All eyes were on the commotion, all party-goers focused now on a couple locked in near fisticuffs.
And Russell grew unfurled, practically shaking; indeed literally shaking his companion, face quite near to Timmy's as he proclaimed in high-pitched excitement: "That's her, Bloody Mary, it's the ghost chick!"
Brad intervened, pulling Russell aside. "That's the woman you saw?"
"Yeah, man, that's her, she threw herself all over me!"
"Ugh!" Jackie seemed overwhelmingly unimpressed at this revelation. "Mary-Beth, I hired her as an apprentice at the studio, she's such a drama queen. I heard she was a theater major before she switched to fashion...her and that plus one of hers have just been..." He wove a dismissive hand.
Russell and Timmy looked to the couple, then to one another, proclaiming in unison. "Her plus one!"
"That's him, that's the body!" Russell nearly took to pulling out hair in desperation. "Ah, god, I need a stiff drink..." He swerved in search of alcohol; Timmy pulled him back.
"You said he was dead," Timmy stared Russell down in great aggravation. "The man is clearly alive, you said you couldn't find a pulse!"
"What do I look like, a doctor?!"
The Rhodes and Binghams, having just arrived and already thinking better of it, had taken a step back, speaking softly amongst themselves.
"Lovely party," said Jeff, leading the group to a table of hor d'oeuvres.
"What kind of dip do you think this is?" inquired Adam.
"French onion, perhaps." He took a bite. "Delightful."
The women stood to the side; Audrey held her stomach. "I think the baby kicked," she said in total monotone.
"Oh," said Jen with a smile, placing her hand to Audrey's stomach. "That's nice!"
Jeff approached the women, stuffing his face full of dipped chip. "New Timmy left us here without any way to get home, y'know that? Guess we're bummin' off of Old Timmy."
Jen's smile fell into a grimace.
Old Timmy was quite preoccupied at the moment, for it seemed the bickering Dead Couple had made their way towards the Dunbar-Patels.
"This the guy?" asked Dead Man, and in quite an accusatory tone, shoving Russell against the chest.
"Hey, whoa, now," said Brad, attempting to stop a fight before it started, but no good. Jackie pulled him back, foreseeing escalating drama. Let's not harm a perfect face.
A crowd was forming...
"You been hittin' on my woman?"
Russell's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Excuse me?! Nyah, nyah, nyah, I dunno what she's been telling you, but this broad came on to me."
Dead Man turned sharply towards Ghost Chick. "You told me he came onto you, Mary-Beth."
Ghost Chick looked to Dead Man with those huge, glowing eyes of hers that so did lure the men. "Well...I..."
Not this time. "Mary-Beth! This guy?!"
"You cheated on me! What was I supposed to do?!"
"But this guy?!"
Russell threw his hands up. "I get it, I suck, let's move on!"
"It wasn't enough ya had to punch my lights out?! And I woke up covered in that crappy mixed drink ya tossed on me, that red stuff's never coming out, this is my best shirt, too!"
Jackie sniggered from the sidelines. "Oh, honey, if that's your best shirt, I'd hate to see the runner up."
"What the hell ever, Scott, you deserve a lot worse than what I gave you. You're not worth it, no man is worth it, no man is-" Ghost Woman felt a tap upon her shoulder. She turned around to find Timmy staring her square in the eye. "The hell do you want?"
"Excuse me, but...you've caused a great deal of calamity this evening, were you aware?"
"What's it to you?"
"Well, it's just...you see, I'm married to this man. That one, the one in the stupid looking Batman get-up, the one I hear you tried to have your way with this evening, rather against his will, so...just for clarification, this is in fact what happened, yes, not the other way around? You did in fact lay lips upon this man?"
"So what if I did?"
"I'm going to take that as a yes."
And with this Timmy closed in very near the woman in a most threatening manner. So near in fact that a hush fell upon the crowd, so near that Russell felt the need to jump in, to hold back Timmy's arms...just in case.
Timmy's eyes narrowed. His breath heavied. He nearly spat in the woman's face, he had grown so bitterly disgusted at the sight of her. There appeared a touch of fear behind her eyes, and he was satisfied at this. Yes. She...should...be...afraid.
"Don't you ever...ever lay hands upon my man again. Do you hear me, you two-bit trollop?"
"Yeah...whatever. Psycho..."
"Oh, you haven't seen psycho, yet...bring it..."
From the sidelines Jen voiced a low, "Whoa..."
"Oh, I know you didn't just step to me, you little...!"
The Ghost Woman attacked. Dead Man held her back, but she yelled and gnawed and kicked towards Timmy, who suddenly did much the same, despite Russell's sudden attempt to pull him back.
So there it was, folks, the battle of the century: Robin vs. Ghost Woman, held back only by Batman and Dead Man, who looked over their flailing partners to one another in a stunned silence.
...What the hell had happened here, tonight?
Russell dragged away a kicking, ever vocal Timmy, all the way to the front door. "Had a great time," yelled out Russell. "Don't call us, we'll call you. Ah, hell, who am I kidding, you're not gonna call." And that was the last anyone saw this evening of Mr.'s Dunbar and Patel.
Brad ushered out Ghost Woman and Dead Man shortly thereafter, once he was quite sure the coast was clear. And all fell quite briefly at Brad and Jackie's disaster of a party. A moment of relief. Still.
Until at last, Adam broke the horrible silence. "Wow, that was sure something, huh?" He watched as eyes looked to him awkwardly, unsure what else to do. "I mean, man. Who expected any of that? Weeeeird stuff, huh? What a Halloween this has turned out to be. Boy, oh boy. Boooy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy-"
Two voices in unison screamed out in desperation: "IT'S A BOY!"
Jeff and Audrey both looked to one another slowly, shocked at themselves...what had they just said? Why had they just said it here, now, in the midst of all this chaos, why-
Ah, the hell with it. Audrey smiled at Jeff. Jeff smiled at Audrey. And they went to one another, hugging deeply.
No more secrets.
Adam grinned lovingly; he started a slow clap. And gradually, having no idea what had just taken place or for what purpose they were participating in the gesture, their captive audience began to applaud the Binghams' news. "Congratulations," came a random voice. For what, who knew. Whatever. It had been a strange night.
Brad collapsed to the sofa, tired. Jackie patted him against a shoulder. "There's always next year."
"Uh-uh. Nah. We're moving," said Brad.
Timmy had fallen asleep on the living room sofa; Russell had left him there upon coming home, to let off steam. Funny, he'd been the one affronted this evening by a crazed demon woman, yet it had ended with Timmy nearly beating the living daylights out of the woman in question. Timmy had been a touch drunk, of course; he'd regret the ordeal upon awaking.
Their therapy sessions so often revolved around Russell's possessive inclinations. A touch of irony this evening, perhaps, although Russell was rather admiring of Timmy's sudden compulsion to protect his territory. Even if it was the wine talking.
He sat in a chair now, watching his husband as he slept. And despite his better efforts, Russell's thoughts drifted to months before, and a fight over another kiss of another kind.
Russell's first thoughts back then hadn't been to attack ghosts of girlfriends past directly. He'd gone straight for Timmy instead; he'd tried to kill a marriage. But then...Russell had resisted the lips of another, tonight. Timmy had wanted it...he'd wanted Allison. Hadn't he?
Of course, it wasn't really about Allison. It never truly was. It was everything she represented. Insecurities. Fears. Fears of losing something he never thought he could have. Somebody he never thought could ever truly love him.
Damn it, why did his thoughts always drift back to this, why could he never let this go?
"Russell?" He was awake now. Sitting up.
"Hey, babe..." Don't look through him. Don't look through him. He's right there, don't look through him.
"Ohhh." It was all coming back to him. "Well, that's the last party we'll ever be invited to."
"Heh...yeah."
Timmy stood. He held out a hand. "Tell the truth, am I better than a 'ghost chick', or what?"
"Better if you get outta that stupid costume." He accepted the lift up, and was pleasantly surprised to find Timmy's lips meet his.
As their mouths parted ways, Timmy spoke, hushed and heated. "You can help me out of it." He met Russell's eyes. "Was that part of the childhood fantasy, darling?"
"Uhh...it...it is now."
Timmy, satisfied at the evident arousal in Russell's voice, turned a sharp circle, leaving him quite alone. As he walked away he assured, "I could have taken her, you know."
"Yeah...yeah, baby, I know." Russell allowed himself a smile and a chuckle. Damn it, he loved that guy.
