Heart on the Run (17 page)

“
I’m not sure that’s Zorro.” She changed the subject. “You look more like a seventies libertine. A Don Juan of the first order. Do you have a thick gold chain and some really tight jeans?”

Blinking rapidly, Chaz glanced at himself in the mirror. His mother was right. The costume consisted of a black satin shirt with a wide open collar, and tight-waisted, flare-legged black pants. “Yeah…that’s what I look like all right. Some slutty tramp from the past.” Damn it. It wasn’t the image he wanted to portray, was it?

“
Sweetie, I’d trade the pants for jeans, add some klunky jewelry and dark shades. Tell people you’re Elvis at home or something.”

Chaz snorted. “A red-headed Elvis?”

“
Well, Zorro was a Spanish nobleman. He didn’t have red hair either.”

Couldn’t argue with that logic. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’ve got too much to get done before I go meet…”

“
Yes, sweetie? Who are you going to meet?”

“
My…uh…” He scrambled for a term that wasn’t boyfriend, because Sprocket wasn’t his boyfriend.
Then what is he? What do you call it when you eat meals together, take breaks together, make love together?
“Lover.” He seized on his mother’s word, even though it was uncomfortably close to the idea of love…it seemed far less intimate than boyfriend. “I’m going to meet my lover at a haunted house. I don’t need to look sexy, I need to look scary.”

“
I’ll leave you to it, sweetie. Scary isn’t really my thing. The last horror movie I watched was when I was seventeen and Wolfman Jack was howling on the radio.”

A seed of an idea blossomed. “That’s it, Mom! Thanks. Enjoy your meal with Marcel. I’ll talk to you later.”

***

“
Holy shit!” Chaz jumped into Sprocket for the fifth time that night…and yeah, Sprocket loved it.

Loved it enough to wonder if there was such a thing as a scary corn labyrinth, something à la
Children of the Corn
. Oh, or a
Shining
hay maze would be cool. He’d settle for anything that kept Chaz jumping into his arms for the rest of his life.

The zombie finally turned away from Chaz to scare the couple a few feet behind them. The man shrieked while the woman clapped her hands and smiled, both of them sans costumes and easily in their forties.

That was what Sprocket loved about anything scary—houses, movies, books, roller coasters—really just anything that caused adrenaline to pump through your veins. The thrill was addictive, a better rush than any drug or alcohol could provide. Legal too. Bonus!

Sprocket learned early in life that anything could happen to anyone. His father left when he was just a baby, hence why his mother moved them into his grandparent’s house—she needed the support financially and physically. Sprocket had been a bundle of energy from the moment he’d entered the world, and nothing slowed him down. Just a few years later, when he was at the delicate age of five, his mother overdosed on her drug of choice that month. She succumbed to the pressures of life and single-parenting—even if his grandma had refused to allow him to openly think like that, Sprocket knew.

He mourned her, of course, but he hardly remembered her and didn’t remember his dad at all. That didn’t stop both of them from teaching him life-long lessons.

Such as there had to be better ways to feel alive than drugs, hence his addiction to frights. All kinds too, from physical to psychological, it all worked on him. Nothing made his blood pump as hot…well, nothing except the man standing next to him.

Sprocket leaned closer to the man gripping his arm like a lifeline. “Which way, Wolfman Jack? Left or right?”

The unsure grimace on Chaz’s face morphed into the most stunning—and toothy—smile. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

Sprocket bit his bottom lip, holding in his corny thoughts about how those fangs would feel against his skin, dragging against his cock, digging into his inner thigh. He always enjoyed a little bite with his pleasure.

“
You know, I can’t see you in here with your…um…costume. All I see is the skeleton thanks to the black lights. It’s really freaky,” Chaz mentioned, running his fingers down Sprocket’s arm to hold his hand.

Sprocket had to agree. His body was coated in matte black body paint, having to use a second coat on some of his tattoos since their vivid colors broke through the first layer. Mase had used fluorescent body paint—a white and yellow mixture to simulate decaying and brittle bones—to draw an unconnected skeleton all over his skin and clothes, from front to back and top to bottom. Hell, they even painted his black FiveFingers running shoes, the old pair he hadn’t worn in over a year.

He took a gamble the haunted house would use UV-A lights, though granted it wasn’t a huge gamble since most Halloween setups used some sort of ultraviolent light. In normal illumination or dark places, the white was bold and stood out, but with black lights it was fucking amazing, it grabbed you and slapped you upside the head a few times with brightness and an eerie glow.

“
Yeah,” he agreed with Chaz, “Mase did a helluva job painting me.”

They headed down the right corridor, stepping over wiggling vines and size-twelve spiders.

“
Mason painted your body?” Chaz asked as a long blonde-haired woman with a blood-smeared face, a periwinkle tank top, and white jeans came screaming down the middle of the hallway. Leatherface chased after her with what sounded and looked like a real, smoking chainsaw.

Sprocket and Chaz plastered themselves up against the wall, watching the show as the woman laughed maniacally while trying to escape her fate.

“
Is that a real chainsaw?” Chaz gasped as they finally stepped back into the walkway.

Sprocket shrugged, grinning. “I wouldn’t worry. She survives in the movie. This house is probably child’s play for her.”

“
Well, that’s comforting,” Chaz stated sarcastically, grabbing Sprocket’s hand as they continued down the corridor.

Laughing, Sprocket agreed. “Isn’t it, though?” They took another right and immediately a door flung open and Bloody Mary floated out. “Say my name…look in the glass, your future husband’s face will pass,” she shrieked, holding up a warped, rusty mirror.

Even though they stood shoulder to shoulder, Chaz was the only reflection in the mirror. It had to be a trick of some sort.

Sprocket played along and whispered spookily, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bl—”

“
No!” Chaz leaned forward to close the door, but Bloody Mary stood in the way. “Um…” He looked at her then the door. She curtsied to him and winked at Sprocket before stepping back so Chaz could close it completely. Evidently the door closing threw her back into character, she cackled on the other side, declaring she almost had them.

“
You were going to say her name five times,” he seethed under his breath as Sprocket walked them farther down the seemingly never-ending hallway.

“
Three times,” Sprocket corrected. He knew they were in a haunted house and smiling wasn’t the appropriate facial expression, but he couldn’t stop. Between the overnighter, them working on the party decorations, the spontaneous kitchen debauchery, and now this… Well, this past week might go down in the books as one of his favorites…ever.

“
Huh?” Chaz asked.

“
You say Bloody Mary three times; it’s Candyman you have to say five times,” Sprocket explained as he steered them away from a hand reaching in from a window on their left.

Chaz pressed against him, muttering, “Good to know.”

An old crone grabbed Sprocket’s wrist and held a wicker basket up to him. “Would you like an apple, my prince?”

“
Do not take one,” Chaz hissed.

She humphed at Chaz and shuffled toward some other visitors.

One of the best things about anything done in small towns—you didn’t have to worry about all the rules that big cities abided by. Most of the commercial haunted places had a strict no touch policy, but here they were more lax with less troublemakers. Sure, the scare-actors still had to use their common sense and make judgment calls, but overall the experience was much more personalized.

More twists and turns, more screams and jumps, and finally they were standing in the backyard surrounded by an apple orchard. There was a concession stand selling seasonal treats like spider popcorn balls, white chocolate covered apples dripping with red blood, and lemonade with plastic syringes of blood available if you need an O-positive pick-me-up.

Sprocket grabbed Chaz’s hand and gestured to the gourmet treats. “Hungry or thirsty?”

“
Oh yeah, I’m hungry.” Chaz leaned back and looked Sprocket up and down.

“
Really now, are you curious if this paint covers all of my body?” He raised an eyebrow at Chaz and smirked.

Chaz pulled his hand away and walked over to the snacks, mumbling, “I think I do need a drink.”

Did it suddenly get cool? Well, cooler than his black, short-sleeve compression top and mid-thigh shorts already made him. He would’ve worn his neoprene surf suit with the ankle length pants and long-sleeve shirt, but the bright orange stripe on them ruined the effect of his costume. Plus, he didn’t really care if the paint didn’t wash out of the shorts and tee. Thankfully, even though it was chilly, he could handle it…well, before Chaz’s cold front blew in.

He followed Chaz, standing close behind him, and held up his hand to signal the guy behind the table to double the order. He paid with one of the folded bills he’d stashed in his waistband—his wallet safely locked in his car—and accepted the drink and little paper bowl with two eyeballs staring at him. The round white balls had red veins drizzled over them and one blue eye, one green eye.

“
Chaz?” Sprocket asked, staring at the eyeballs staring at him.

“
What?”

They both strolled to the side, still in the yard with all the others, but relatively out of the scare zone. Pumpkinhead didn’t even look at them when he chased a couple of pre-teens. “What did you order us?” He shook the bowl and watched the eyeballs roll back and forth, clinking against each other.

“
I don’t know, I just pointed.” Chaz shrugged.

Balancing his bowl on top of his cup, he snagged one and held it up in a mock toast. “Okay, I’m going in.” He bit into the optical treat, and as soon as he got through the hard shell, his teeth sank into the inside goo with no resistance. “Oh, that’s awful,” he mumbled around a mouth of marshmallow fluff, white chocolate, and the pupil M&M. “I’m gonna go into a diabetic coma.” He turned his head and repeatedly flicked his tongue out, hoping the goop would fall, but the damn sticky shit was attached to his teeth.

Chaz burst out laughing. Sprocket turned to look at him. “Oh, you think this is funny?” he asked, giving up his attempts at spitting the stuff out, and finally, just swallowing. “How would you like a taste of the evil eye?”

“
Which one?” Chaz continued chuckling, his arms shaking so much from his laughter that the blood he shot into his lemonade mixed up, leaving it a light pink color.

“
Ha ha.” Sprocket grinned right before he popped the half eaten eye in Chaz’s mouth. “Bon appétit, lover.”

Chaz chewed a few times before grimacing. “Oh, that really is bad.”

“
I know,” Sprocket agreed, nodding as he leaned over. He swiped his tongue across Chaz’s bottom lip and smiled. “But it tastes perfect now.”

Chapter Thirteen

“
Hang on.” Sprocket pushed Chaz’s arms away and nudged him toward the bed. Chaz squirmed, trying to get closer, to wedge his now free hands under the waistband of Sprocket’s athletic shorts to touch skin not covered by black paint. “Just a minute.” He held Chaz off with a hand square in the center of his chest.