Page 11 of Pierced

“Myrtle,” Eden says. “That’s what Halloween is. We have to make it spooky.”

“No,” I say again. “I don’t do spooky either.”

“It has to be! Scaring people is the whole point!”

“You don’t need silly monsters to scare people. Two minutes ago I didn’t realize Halloween parties had a theme, but I do now. And the only black at my party will be the tuxedoes.”

“Tux… what? That’s not how you do Halloween.”

“It is now. Come on,” I say. “There’s nothing here for us. We’re going to that event planner place across from the art gallery. I’ve got a corporate credit card. If we’re going to throw a party to entice advertisers, we’re going to do it up right.”

Ten minutes later we’re standing inside “Corporate Affairs” speaking to Maggie, my new personal party planner, about what we’re looking for.

“I don’t understand,” Maggie says.

“What’s confusing about it?” I ask back.

“You want a Halloween party with no Halloween decorations?”

“I want an event, Maggie.” I look at her over the top of my eyeglasses. “One worthy of the Le Man name. Something visually stunning that will photograph well.”

“O-kay.”

“I want… I want people who match.”

“Match?” she asks.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Eden says. “We need people dressed up in costumes, pretty orange and black streamers, pumpkin spice cupcakes, and hard apple cider.”

“No,” I say, pointing my perfectly manicured red fingernail in her direction. “That is the opposite of what we need. Our theme is not Halloween.”

“It isn’t?” poor, confused Maggie says.

“No. It’s… I mean, I don’t really know what it is. It’s just not that. We need sophisticated. And mysterious. We need—”

“Oh!” Maggie says. “I know! A masquerade!”

“Yes!” Eden says. “A masquerade ball! That’s brilliant!”

“Thank you,” I say, polishing my fingernails on my Victoria Beckham coat. Maggie shoots me the stink-eye, because I suppose it was technically her idea. But if I hadn’t come in here insisting on something… chic instead of cheap, she’d never have had that idea in the first place. “I am a fountain of inspiration. So listen, Maggie,” I say, getting out my credit card. “I’ve got an expense account like you wouldn’t believe. I want every man in a tux, every woman in a little black dress, and I want masks. I want tables set like we’re hosting royalty. I want mysterious, I want seductive, I want a night these people will never forget.”

“Of course! Of course! When is the party?”

“Halloween,” I say.

“On Halloween?”

“Isn’t that when most people have Halloween parties?”

“But that’s a Monday this year. And people sometimes have children to take out trick-or-treating. Is this a family party?”

“Of course not.”

“Then we should have it the Saturday before. Which gives me less than two weeks.”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s tight. Eden, we’ll have to split up for this. You take care of Maggie here, I’m going over to the printers to see about invitations.”

“Paper invitations?” Eden asks. “We could just send e-vites.”