Eve of Samhain

by Lisa Sanchez

  With morbid curiosity, I watched the Sex God search the bar, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The moment his eyes found mine, his expression softened. His jaw relaxed, his eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth turned into a lust-inspiring smile. “See you around, love.” With a wink and a nod, he turned toward the crowd.

  I looked away momentarily, embarrassed by the blush creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks.

  Stupid hormonal body. I will not react this way.

  I craned my head toward the exit, desperately trying to find him, but came up short. He was nowhere to be seen. He’d vanished. Impossible! I only looked down for a second.

  Without thinking, I rounded the bar and hurried to the exit, barreling out the doors and peering down the street. The sidewalk was empty in both directions. I let out a frustrated huff as I continued scanning the area. There was no one on the opposite side of the street either. Where the hell did he go? People don’t just disappear. Damn. I’d freaking lost my mind.

  With a sigh, I walked back inside and over to the table where Boobs still sat, staring off into the ether. “Are you okay?” I asked. She looked like a space cadet.

  Boobs turned her head slightly to look at me, but remained silent.

  Maybe if I tried a different tack. I got right in front of her face and spoke with slow, concise words. “Where did your boyfriend go?” Yeah, okay, my tone was a bit patronizing. I’ll admit it. But what was I supposed to do? Girlfriend was out of whack and stuck in some sort of trance. I needed to help her.

  A crease formed over Boob’s brow.

  Aha! Synapses are firing. Boobs does have a brain.

  “Huh? Boyfriend? I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

  Okay…she’s either playing games or she’s high.

  Now I was concerned. She was clearly confused and out of it. “Are you feeling all right?”

  Boobs shifted in her seat and cast me a nervous glance. “I’m fine. Why?”

  I gripped the back of the chair opposite hers and continued. “Well, you seem to have forgotten about the guy you came in here with.”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “I didn’t come in here with anyone. Actually, I don’t really remember how I got here.”

  Weird. Maybe she is high. Maybe the Sex God drugged her.

  “Well, you came in a bit ago with a very good-looking, albeit viper-tongued, man. You two seemed very close, and now you’re telling me you don’t remember any of it?”

  She narrowed her eyes and made a face. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.” She stood up with a huff and stormed out, grumbling the entire way.

  Okay…

  Too tired to give Boobs another thought, I finished out my shift. After clocking out, I changed into my pink velour tracksuit, grabbed a cup of black coffee from the break room, and put the bizarre evening behind me. I had an appointment with the Sandman, and the slight lag in my step told me I didn’t want to be late.

  Walking home at two in the morning probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, especially after the break-in at my apartment last week. I’d endured an hour-long diatribe from my roommate earlier in the day about the various dregs of society roaming the streets of Hanaford Park. My reasoning for walking was simple. I lived nearby, the fresh air would help clear my head after the bizarre evening I had, and dammit, I wasn’t going to live my life in fear. If I wanted to walk home, I would.

  Aside from the ass grab and my run in with Mr. Sex God Extraordinaire, the evening hadn’t been all bad. My feet didn’t hurt, and for once, no one spilled beer on me. I’d also made a killing in tips; one older man with a beard and potbelly left me a cool fifty. Woo-hoo! I suppose the craptastic booty shorts we were forced to wear while on duty weren’t all bad, even if they barely covered my Titanic tushy. At least they spawned good tips.

  One more year. The phrase played on an automatic loop in my brain, over and over again. I needed the job at the club long enough to get me through my senior year of college. After graduation, I’d move on to bigger and better things. No more slinging beer and hot wings. No more lecherous stares, crappy come-ons, and unwanted groping. Majoring in psychology, I fully planned on being a therapist one day. I couldn’t wait to get the hell outta Hanaford Park.

  The piercing blue eyes of Mr. Sex God kept popping in and out of my conscious thoughts while my mind replayed the events of the evening. I rolled my eyes at the nickname I’d given him. “Mr. Sex God. Humph! I wonder what your name is.” I heaved a sigh. “Those eyes…behind all that arrogance, they were so sad.”

  A warm, yellow glow illuminated the courtyard of my apartment building and a twinge of relief washed through me. I picked up my pace, eager to get home. Precious sleep was just a few moments away, and I could almost feel the softness of my sheets against my skin.

  Out of nowhere, an eerie feeling crawled up my spine, and a terrible sense of paranoia stole my breath away. Someone was watching me.

  I fished my keys out of my Coach bag, gripping them in my hand to use as a weapon. “Damn.” I cursed myself for forgetting to throw my pepper spray in when I’d changed bags earlier. I’d stab someone with my keys if I had to, but much preferred the idea of hosing down any attacker from several feet away. My body seized up, shook, and swayed as I turned, and scanned the area. I was completely alone.

  Unable to shake the feeling there was someone spying on me, I called out. “Is anyone there?”

  Nothing.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. Stupidity was not a quality I admired, especially not in myself.

  Get a grip, buckshot. There’s not a soul out here.

  With a frustrated sigh, I turned back toward my apartment and reached for the door, all the while sensing a pair of eyes boring into my back.

  Chapter 2

  THE LOUD, BUZZING SOUND of my alarm clock wrenched me from my sleep. My roommate’s mother purchased the annoying but necessary contraption for me. Reaching across to my nightstand, I hit the snooze button, then rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I rubbed my eyes, which were still heavy from sleep, took a deep breath and groaned.

  After a measly four hours of sleep, the thought of crawling out of bed for an early morning run made me want to cry. Getting up at six a.m. on days where I hadn’t worked the night before was easy. But with classes starting up again, dragging my ass out to run on a mere four hours of shut-eye was hard. Damn hard. I’d do it anyway, regardless of how groggy I felt and how cranky I knew I’d be. People have told me on more than one occasion I have masochistic tendencies.

  My profuse hatred for running did nothing to sway my resolve. Sucky as it may be, I knew it was the best way to get in a great cardio workout. I may sling beer for a living, but I rarely drank the ass-expanding crap. At least, not anymore. Did I mention before I have a badonkadonk-sized kiester? No? Let’s just say that if I don’t run, and often, my backside will blow up to roughly the size of Texas. My roommate, Jessica? The skinny little thing’s got zero in the booty department. She suffers from what I like to call FAS, or Falling Ass Syndrome. Her pants, my God, she’s constantly yanking them up. Saggy jeans? Yeah…not so much of a problem for me. At five-foot-seven, most of my one hundred thirty-five pounds is spread between my ginormous boobs, which are my best feature, and a J-Lo booty that wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t come with the accompanying cellulite. I liked my cottage cheese in a plastic tub, not on my thighs.

  Thanks to a wild freshman year of scarfing down fatty commons food and guzzling Coors Lite every chance I got, I became the victim of what many refer to as the “freshman fifteen.” I’d been battling excess poundage for the past four years. At a size eight, I wasn’t chunky, but a bit thicker than I liked. If I went out, I always drank clear liquor, and I’d run my ass off the next morning to keep the excess pounds away. And carbs? Yeah…carbs were the devil as far as I was concerned.

  The alarm clock buzzed at me again.

  “All right. I’m up.”
I reached over and slapped my hand down on the early morning torture device a bit harder than I should have. The annoying POS crashed to the floor.

  The next thing I knew, the door to my room flew open, and Jessica stood glaring at me from the doorway. Half her blond hair was plastered to the side of her head, the other half stood on end, making her look like a wild woman on the verge of a rage attack. “Do you have to blare your alarm clock so loudly? Turn that thing down! Some of us need to sleep, thankyouverymuch!” She stared at me with one eye closed and ran her hand through her messy hair. “What are you doing up so early anyway? You worked late, and class starts today.”

  I scrubbed my hand over my face. Why was I up so early? Oh yeah…“Gotta run. Sorry about the alarm clock. Try to go back to sleep.” I felt like a shmuck for waking her up. No doubt I’d hear about it later.

  She mumbled something incoherent, leveling a harsh stare at me, complete with pointed finger and scowl, before turning to leave. I’d have to change the volume setting on my alarm clock pronto or she was liable to bash me over the head with it. Jess was a sweetheart but needed her sleep and became downright violent when she didn’t get it. Just because I got up at the ass crack of dawn didn’t mean she needed to.

  I forced myself from my warm cocoon and lumbered over to my closet, stubbing my toe along the way. A few choice words, most of which would cause a sailor to blush, blew past my lips as I hopped in place, clutching my injured digit. Not a great way to start the day. After pulling on two sports bras (Yes, two. Big boobs + running = black eyes), a t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers, I snatched my keys out of my bag, pulled the stretchy keychain onto my wrist, grabbed my iPod, and headed out the door.

  Rays from the early morning sun bounced off the side of the apartment building and through the tall oak sitting in the middle of the courtyard. A blanket of yellow and brown leaves covered the pavement, reminding me that even though it wasn’t cold yet, it wasn’t summer anymore. Autumn in Hanaford Park, California, was my favorite time of year.

  The crisp morning air was refreshing, and my body came alive as I filled my lungs. Placing my earbuds in my ears, I scrolled through my playlists until I found what I was looking for: Linkin Park.

  Jogging across the courtyard and out onto the street, I decided to circle the outer perimeter of the campus, which conveniently sat one block away from my apartment. Yep. You read that right. School: one block away. Work: two blocks away. My entire life took place within a two-mile radius. I was a real globetrotter.

  I picked up my pace. Since today was the first day of class, I wanted to make sure I’d have enough time to shower and get ready. Rank armpits and greasy hair on top of a large ass were a definite no-no. I didn’t possess a magical shrink ray to reduce the size of my backside, but what I did have was a great sense of style, and I would make damn sure I looked put together.

  I circled the campus quicker than I anticipated (woo-hoo!) and decided to go another round before heading home.

  The unsettling sense that someone watched me struck halfway into my second lap. Pants-pissing scared, every hair on my body stood at attention and an icy shiver shot up my spine. I’d experienced a similar feeling of being watched the night before, but this…this was different. A sick feeling of dread slithered across my flesh, making me want to jump out of my skin.

  Wigged, I scanned the area and stepped up my pace. There were a few other students jogging, and a deliveryman pushing crates of milk toward the campus dining hall. None of them paid any attention to me, and once again I felt like a member of the forty-watt club.

  My imagination was obviously running wild, probably a result of the measly four hours of sleep. The urge to slap myself for acting like an idiot was strong, and I hauled ass across the street, through the courtyard, and into the sanctuary of my apartment.

  Once inside, I tiptoed down the hallway, doing my level best to be quiet and not wake Jessica. My efforts were in vain. I tripped over a random shoe and tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle onto the floor with a loud “Oomph!”

  The door to Jessica’s room flew open. “Ryann?” She flipped on the hall light and rubbed her eyes furiously. “Are you all right?”

  I lay sprawled out in the middle of the floor, unable to contain my laughter.

  “Ryann, are you really okay?” she asked, trying to hold back her own giggling.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, gasping for air as I continued to snicker. “Sorry to wake you…again. I left the hall light off, hoping to go unnoticed. I was tiptoeing to my room and tripped over this,” I said, holding up one of Jessica’s shoes, which as usual, were strewn about the apartment willy-nilly.

  She reached for the offending footwear with a sheepish look on her face. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I thought I moved all of my shoes out of the hallway last night. I guess I missed one.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, waving her off as I got to my feet. Glancing through my doorway toward my alarm clock, I saw it was a few minutes after seven. “Oh snap. I have to shower or I’m gonna be late. My first class is at eight.”

  After hightailing it into my room and grabbing a set of fresh chonies and my robe, I made a mad dash toward the bathroom.

  Thirty minutes later, I darted across the hallway into my room with my hair dried and styled, and my makeup done to perfection. Digging through my packed (yeah, I like to shop, sue me) and extremely cramped closet, I decided on a pair of low-rise Lucky jeans that looked great as long as I didn’t bend or move too much in them, and a white Hollister t-shirt. I slid my feet into my favorite gold pair of Steve Madden flip flops and frantically searched for my large gold hoops and watch to match. Slightly OCD about matching accessories, I’d switch out the tiny stud in my nose daily, just so it would match the rest of my ensemble. That particular piece of jewelry was safe today as the tiny cubic zirconia stud matched my outfit perfectly.

  “Ooh, cute sandals,” Jessica said, admiring my footwear from the doorway as she sipped her morning coffee. “And your hair…I absolutely love the cut. You didn’t tell me you were going to take that much off. I’d be too scared to cut mine that short.”

  My hands automatically reached for my new shorter hair. “Thanks.” I’d gone in before work the previous day and cut my longer, brunette locks into a trendier A-line style. My hair was now stacked in the back, angled down to two wicked points in the front, and sported several chunky gold highlights. My stylist, Jolene, was the bomb. Now, if I could do something about my shit brown eyes and oversized chest, I’d be in business. No luck there, though. The thought of touching my eyeballs turned my stomach, so contacts were a definite no-go. And yeah, I may know how to flaunt my girls, but given the chance, I’d gladly trade them in for a set of B cups. I wasn’t looking forward to my golden years when my twins would be hanging down to my knees.

  “When is your first class?” I asked.

  Jess looked at me like I’d flashed in from another planet. “English Lit at ten. Duh. We both have it, dummy. We picked our classes together, remember?”

  I bent down and snatched my bag from the floor, groaning, because it looked like I’d be vacuuming later in the day. “I’m functioning on four hours of sleep here, Jess. Work with me.”

  “Besides,” she said, scrunching her nose up and grimacing. “I am not a morning person, so I made sure my first class didn’t start until later. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. Mornings are the worst.”

  “Coffee helps,” I said and grabbed the half full mug of java out of her hand, downing it in one large gulp. I stuck my tongue out. “Needs sugar.”

  Jessica let out a large gasp and yanked the empty mug out of my hands, while she glowered at me. “Ryann! That was…” She fidgeted in place, eyes darting left and right as she racked her brain for a put down. “You’re a…a…”

  I sighed. Watching her struggle was painful. Jess wasn’t proficient like I was in the insult department, and she fought to come up with something witty. Never one to back down from an opportunity to mock
others, or myself, I jumped right in. “Crappy-ass roommate? Janky ho?” I tried to keep a straight face and failed. Jess flushed scarlet. A product of her mother’s good upbringing, curse words and slander didn’t come easy for her. It took two years of constant teasing to get her to say the word “ass” instead of “bottom,” and she still referred to her box as her “private place.”

  Jessica had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We’d met in junior high at the town’s local All Star cheer gym. Though she wasn’t tall at five foot five, her shoulder length, blond hair and bright blue eyes gave her an open invitation into the popular crowd. Despite the opportunities afforded by her appearance, she was far from plastic. A spattering of freckles crossed her nose and her entire face lit up when she smiled. She alone knew of my all-consuming obsession with bags and shoes, and my love/hate relationship with dairy foods and carbs. I’ve heard it said, time and time again, how you could count your good friends on one hand. Jess was the first finger on my one hand, and I loved her dearly.

  With a snicker, I grabbed the empty mug, dropping it into the kitchen sink on my way out.

  I heard her holler as I reached the front door of the apartment. “I hope that coffee burned your mouth, stinker!” Ooh…scathing comeback!

  I laughed and threw her a quick wave. “See you at ten!” With a smirk, I closed the door behind me and burned rubber to class.

  ***

  Ninety minutes later, I strolled into the quad at the center of campus, taking a seat on one of the hard, metal benches. My stomach growled and I eyed the small coffee cart a few feet away, trying to decide if the mile-long line snaking its way around the quad was worth it or not. Frustrated, I craned my head to get a better look at what they were pushing and groaned. Frappucinos and…donuts. Why? Why couldn’t they peddle fruit? Hell, I’d even settle for a bran muffin. Regularity is a thing of beauty. But donuts? If I so much as sniffed one, my butt would take on beach front property, and extra Zumba classes were a no-go. I was Zumba’d out. I took a deep breath and sighed. Looked like I’d be practicing restraint.