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Maybe, but I won’t hold my breath.
ChapterEleven
Iget a text from Willow at six o’clock, giving me an address and the command to be in costume. Behind that, a very serious looking emoji.
At five-fifty-nine, I knock on the door of the duplex. When the door swings open, I can hardly keep my jaw from dropping.
Willow has always been a cute, sweet girl. Tonight, Willow is a fucking goddess. She’s wearing a tight, black bodysuit, fishnet stockings, black, thigh-high boots, and a black and white spotted cape. Long, red gloves cover her arms to the elbows, leaving the rest bare. A black and white wig replaces her usual honey brown hair, and bright red lipstick paints her pouty mouth.
“You’re the sexiest Cruella I’ve ever seen,” I say.
She smiles, her cheeks turning pink. “Thank you. Come inside real quick.”
I follow her into the cozy apartment, all of the lights off except the one in the kitchen, which is where she leads me. Spinning around, she eyes me up and down.
“Okay, I’m trying to guess what this could possibly be, but I’m getting nothing. You didn’t take any of my ideas.”
“I’m Wolverine.”
She chokes out a laugh. “You are not.”
“I am. Look, a white tank top. Jeans.”
Willow sputters out another laugh. “Stop it. You’re not serious. You don’t even have the claw things, or the hairstyle. Or sideburns!” She cracks up some more.
I chuckle along with her. “It’s the best I could do on short notice.”
She waves her hand in the air. “No, we can do better.” Turning around, she rifles through some drawers and tosses items on the counter.
I can’t help but check out her long legs and plump ass cheeks that stick outside the edge of her bodysuit.
“The tank top I like,” she says, spinning back around and studying my arms. “But let’s add to it. You don’t care if this gets ruined, do you?”
“No, it’s fine.”
She holds up a red bottle. “Blood. Well, fake blood. Take off your shirt so I can make some adjustments.”
I pull the white material over my head and hand it to her. Her hazel eyes drink me in before she snaps out of her daze and gives me a shy grin. “Thanks.”
I watch over her shoulder as she cuts a tear into the front of my shirt and uses a variety of tactics to cover the material with fake blood.
By the time she’s done, it has a couple bloodied handprints, some darker drops and streaks, along with a spatter.
She washes her hands and puts her gloves back on before reaching for the cigarette holder on the counter. “Come on, darling. Let’s let that dry,” she says in her best Cruella voice before sashaying into the living room.
“Nice work.”
She laughs. “It’s Halloween. You can put blood on anything and make it work. You could either be a victim or a killer.” She freezes. “Wait! Come back in here.”
She takes hold of my wrist and brings me back to the kitchen. After grabbing the small spray bottle she used earlier, that’s mixed with paint and water, she turns to face me.
“Can I?” Her eyes move to my torso as she holds up the bottle. “You can’t just have a bloody shirt. If you killed someone, you’d have blood on your skin too, right?”
I stare into her eyes and shrug. “I guess.”
She sprays the liquid on my chest, the cold making me twitch.
“Sorry,” she says with a giggle before spraying my arms and my neck. “There. Don’t worry. It’ll be easy to come off.”
