A GZ and Jeff Halloween: Part 2

As promised, here is the end of the story. Enjoy!

Jeff Mauro laughed. “Well, he does live in the Hamptons. Not exactly a place for the economically challenged.”

“Maybe, but he never lets that go to his head, you know? He’s really down to earth, and he has a big heart.”

Jeff was touched by Alex’s loyalty to Geoffrey. He knew he was the same way himself. “But you

have to admit, there are things he’s a bit naïve about. Like grocery shopping.”

“True,” Alex admitted. “On the other hand, he’s great with his kids. He spends lot of time with them. Like you do with Lorenzo.”

Seven-year-old Lorenzo was Jeff’s pride and joy. He loved spending time in the kitchen with him, and Lorenzo was a natural when it came to cooking. Jeff liked to brag he would follow in his father’s footsteps someday.

“You two are going out on Halloween, right?” Alex asked.

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He scraped up what was left of the food on his plate with a contented sigh and glanced at GZ. The regal cat was contently licking his paws from the comfort of Alex’s lap. Something nagged at the back of Jeff’s mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on what the problem was. He was supposed to do something at some particular time, but what was it?

Oh damn! He mentally snapped his fingers. How could he have forgotten? He wasn’t supposed to stay all evening.  He had to make an exit early enough to change places with GZ, and then they would both make their reappearances in new costumes. Except Jeff’s wouldn’t be a costume, exactly. He’d be coming as his shifter alter-ego, a champagne-colored labradoodle.

Jeff yawned widely then chuckled.  “Guess all this food is catching up to me,” he said, hoping his laugh didn’t sound at all fake. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel, maybe call my fam and tell them good night before I get some sleep.” Which was a bit of a white lie, but one that couldn’t be proven without talking to his wife and son, and who would go to the trouble of doing that, and why would they?

“Good idea,” Alex said. “That reminds me. I should call GZ and see how he’s doing. I thought he was going to show up tonight. I hope he’s not sick.”

“I don’t think so,” Jeff said hastily. “In fact, I think he’s just running late. You know how he is.”

Wrong thing to say. Geoffrey Zakarian was never late for anything. He was the king of prompt. Jeff grimaced inwardly. Of all the stupid things to say about GZ, saying that to Alex Guaranaschelli was really stupid. She knew GZ better than just about anyone.

But Alex didn’t have any smarmy comebacks or witty retorts denouncing Jeff’s blatant lie. “I’ll wait a little bit and see if he shows up before I go all concerned friend on him. I’ll catch you later, Jeff. Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Alex. We should hang out more.” He reached for his companion, but GZ was already springing into action. He leapt into Jeff’s arms in one agile motion. Jeff positioned the feline beneath his arm, where he could still scratch the top of his head, and they made their way through the partygoers, bidding farewells as he went to the people he knew. Once outside, he waited patiently as the valet brought his rental car around. Jeff thanked him, settled GZ in the passenger seat, took the wheel and drove off.

But not very far. His destination was less than a mile away. He and GZ had met up in a deserted parking lot of a restaurant that was only open for breakfast and lunch. GZ had left his car there, now it was Jeff’s turn to leave his vehicle and shift. He waited for GZ to shift first. Once the chef was himself once more, he stretched his legs, then reached into the glove compartment and retrieved his glasses.

“Quite the soiree,” he commented. “We fooled them all, I think.”

“I think so too,” Jeff agreed. “Alex seemed quite taken with you, didn’t she? Of course, you made it easy by jumping into her lap like that.”

GZ laughed. “Just playing the part,” he said. “C’mon, it’s your turn. I’ll just grab my costume out of the back of my car. Be right back.”

Jeff watched as GZ exited his rental and approached his own luxurious sedan. He retrieved his costume from the car then disappeared into the shadows. Jeff waited for him to return, so he could get a good look at what his friend was wearing. He knew what GZ had told him, but seeing was even better. GZ had such good taste, he was going to look posh, Jeff just knew it. And sure enough, when GZ returned, he did not disappoint.

Geoffrey looked very elegant indeed. Jeff didn’t know what the names of everything was, but the fawn-colored pants flared at the hips and then narrowed into tall black boots. GZ wore a white ruffled shirt beneath a vest that may have been brocade, Jeff wasn’t sure.  A dark wine jacket that ended just above Geoffrey’s waist completed the ensemble, along with a black top hat and a walking stick.

“Wow, you’re quite the dandy,” Jeff commented in admiration. “Who did you say you were, again?”

“You hit the nail on the head, old chap,” GZ said in a faux British accent then laughed at his own wit.

 “Just call me Beau Brummell, one of the most famous dandies of all time.”

“Beau Brummell,” Jeff repeated the name. “Well, you certainly look spiffy, Mr. Zakarian. You should win a prize for that outfit.”

Geoffrey smiled. “You flatter me, Mr. Mauro. Well, you about ready to go back to the party?” He glanced significantly at Jeff’s unaltered state.

“Oh yeah, right. Let me change real quick. You sure you’re okay with me being in your car?”

“I trust you not to have an accident.” They shared a quick laugh before Jeff shifted into his dog self and GZ opened the car door for him.

The party was still in full swing when they arrived. Geoffrey had brought a leash for his canine companion—with Jeff’s permission. They were greeted by admiring comments and catcalls when they walked through the door.

“I thought you were going to dress up, GZ.” Anne Burrell approached them wearing a smile and carrying a drink. She eyed GZ up and down. “Isn’t that what you wear every day?”

Jeff yipped his laughter as best he could under the circumstances. He knew she was teasing but she was also right that GZ dressed better than the average chef.

“Very funny,” GZ replied. “I’m here as Beau Brummel tonight, what do you think?”

“I think you’re quite the dandy,” Anne said. “Who’s your little friend?” She knelt beside Jeff, cooing at him. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

Jeff responded by trying to lap from her glass. Anne held the drink away from him. “Doggies shouldn’t drink, it’s bad for them.” She glanced up at GZ. “What have you been teaching him?”

“Don’t blame me, he has a mind of his own.” GZ chuckled. “I call him The Little Prince. Usually just Prince for short.”

Jeff snuffled against Anne’s cheek before laying a wet slobbery kiss on her. To her credit, she didn’t recoil from his touch or immediately attempt to wipe it off.

“Maybe you should feed him before he takes a bite out of someone,” Anne suggested, rising.

“Good idea,” GZ agreed.

Jeff had already eaten quite a bit, and not all that long ago, but hey, he could probably eat some more if the occasion arose. Which it just had. And to be fair, GZ had only eaten what little Jeff had given him. He must be hungry too.

They parted ways with Chef Anne, heading toward the buffet, greeting people they knew along the way. Well, Geoffrey greeted them in English, while Jeff woofed when required.

At the buffet table, their positions were now reversed, with GZ piling up plates for each of them, Jeff watching from the floor. Jeff was gratified to see his friend pile up a lot of meat on his plate. If only he had opposable thumbs, he could have GZ build him a sandwich. But alas, that was not possible in his current state.

“Well, well, Zakarian, about time you showed up. I was about to send out the St. Bernards,” a familiar voice came from behind them. Jeff raised his eyes to find Alex standing beside GZ, wearing an impish grin.

“If I’d known that, I’d have waited somewhere for the booze to arrive.” GZ returned her grin with one of his own. “I’d give you a hug, love, but I’m a little encumbered.”

“No worries, I’ll get one later.” She turned her attention to Jeff. “Oh my, isn’t he a cute one.” She knelt beside him and ruffled the fur on his head. “What’s your name, little man?”

“How’d you know he’s a he?” Geoffrey raised his eyebrows.

Alex cocked her head, looking up at him. “Oh, I can just tell. Is he a labradoodle? I’m surprised you don’t own an Afghan or a Russian Wolfhound or something.”

“He’s not mine,” Geoffrey hastily interjected. “I mean, he’s with me, but I don’t own him. He belongs to… a friend.”

Well, that might not strictly be true, but there was enough truth in that to keep Geoffrey’s veracity intact.

“Hey guys, you know what? It’s a really nice night for October. Let’s go outside, why don’t we? There’s a veranda at the back of the house with our name on it.” Not waiting for an answer, she took Geoffrey’s arm, first relieving him of the leash with a quick “I got this” and steered him in the direction she wanted to go.

Wrought iron tables had been set up on the patio for the use of the guests, with carved jack-o’-lanterns on each providing light. No one else was in sight. Personally, Jeff didn’t think it was cold, but then he came from Chicago. He was used to single digit temps. Plus, to be fair, he was wearing a thick fur coat.

Geoffrey set the plate of meat on the ground, then sat across from Alex, who had a drink but no food. He arched his eyebrows at her. “Not eating?”

“Not hungry,” she countered. “I ate before you got here. In fact, I was sitting with your friend Jeff.”

“Ah, sorry I missed him. Who did he come as?”

“Dr. Evil. And he brought his own cat. A gorgeous white one. Very elegant. A lot like you.”

Geoffrey laughed. “You’re too kind. You look beautiful, by the way. A veritable goddess.”

Jeff hadn’t paid any attention to what Alex wore before, and now he felt guilty he hadn’t complimented her when he could. But who was she supposed to be?

“How appropriate since I am a goddess.” Alex waved one hand to indicate her costume.

“Artemis?” GZ guessed.

Alex rolled her eyes. “Do you see a bow? No, I’m Athena, goddess of wisdom.”

“I don’t see an owl,” Geoffrey teased.

“You never know,” Alex said mysteriously. “By the way, that cat Jeff brought was adorable. He’s yours, isn’t he?”

“He’s part of the family, yes,” GZ replied evasively.

“Mmhmm,” was all Alex said.

Jeff turned his attention to his plate, wolfing down every last bit. Then he licked the plate for good measure before turning back to Alex and GZ. GZ had pushed his plate away, maybe half eaten. Jeff barked. Silly to let good food go to waste.

“You don’t like the food?” Alex asked.

“Oh yes, it’s good. Not very hungry, that’s all.”

“Or maybe it’s because you filled up on caviar and salmon last time you were here?” Alex suggested.

GZ’s mouth dropped open, and Jeff was too stunned to even bark.

** * *

Alex Guarnaschelli had to smile to herself at the two men’s discomfort. She’d figured them out a long time ago, just hadn’t said anything. Let them keep their little secrets. Until now.

“Boys, you can’t kid a kidder,” she said. “I’m on to you, face it.”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean,” the usually suave and collected GZ bluffed… badly.

“Yeah you do,” Alex said. “You know exactly what I mean. GZ, seriously? How long have we known each other? And Jeff, you weren’t hard to figure out either. Your labradoodle is adorable, by the way. Hyper, like you.”  She reached down and patted the dog’s head.

“I have an idea. Let’s go somewhere and celebrate Halloween in our own fashion. Like in those woods.” She pointed to the dark trees that stretched beyond the edge of the property. “Just for a little bit. You know, let it all hang out.”

Geoffrey looked as though he was going to continue to deny what she obviously knew, then gave up the fight. “What do you know about shifters?”

“More than you think.” She glanced around them, but the veranda was still empty, and there was no sign of anyone in that part of the house. “Come on, let’s just do it.”

“Let’s… as in us?” Geoffrey sounded confused.

“Us,” Alex confirmed just before she shifted into a beautiful barn owl. She hooted at them to follow

her and watched as Geoffrey quickly shifted to his cat form. Jeff barked his approval. Then the three friends headed toward the woods and a Halloween they wouldn’t soon forget.

Wednesday Briefs: A GZ and Jeff Halloween: Part I

Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

Also, Happy Halloween!  In honor of the occasion, I have momentarily set aside my usual flash and I've written a Halloween story. I'm posting part one today, and I'll finish it tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it! This is especially for those people who, like me, enjoy watching the Food Network! See what my favorite chefs are up to! It might surprise you! Then see what the other Briefers have been doing. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!

A GZ and Jeff Halloween: Part I

Although he’d been skeptical of the idea at first, Geoffrey Zakarian—GZ to his friends and colleagues—had to admit that Jeff Mauro had been right about which costumes they should wear to the Food Network Halloween bash. They’d brought smiles to many faces as they’d made the rounds of their fellow chefs, adoring fans, and network executives.

Of course, no one realized that the Turkish Angora cat Jeff carried was actually the Iron Chef himself.  Although Jeff referred to the cat as GZ, everyone assumed he was making a joke in the absence of the chef. The fact that GZ was a cat shifter was a secret he’d only shared with Jeff, who’d become his best friend after they’d started working together on The Kitchen, back in 2014. Not even GZ’s wife or his children knew that the aristocratic white cat who deigned to grace them with his presence on occasion was their very own Geoffrey/Daddy.

“I like your costume, Mr. Mauro!”  Chef Alton Brown complimented the Sandwich King. “But I’m not sure who you’re supposed to be. Care to enlighten me?”

“Dr. Evil, of course,” Jeff replied. He  placed his little finger  at the corner of his mouth, striking an appropriate pose, then moved his hand down to stroke the white cat in his arms, sinking his fingers into the luxurious fur, as if to make his point. The two chefs stood next to one another in the buffet line, waiting their turn to pick from long tables laden with an assortment of epicurean delights .  Of course the whole night had been dedicated to eating and drinking—that’s what they did. Only the best for these well-trained palates.

“Ah,” Alton said. “I thought maybe you were supposed to be Dr. No. He came first, you know.” He reached over and chucked the cat under the chin, who purred compliantly. GZ was used to being petted. His children loved to pet the white cat they’d nicknamed Prince. And Jeff was prone to do so himself. Sometimes it was nice to curl up in Jeff’s lap, in front of a roaring fire burning in one of his seven fireplaces, and nap, something he had little time for as a chef. The life of an Iron Chef/restaurateur was not easy, and he took his luxuries where he could.

“Yes, I know,” Jeff said, grinning widely. “James Bond is cool and all, but Austin Powers… he’s totally hilarious. You gotta love comedy, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

The cat lazily raised its head and fixed wide eyes on Alton. GZ wondered how he could say that with a straight face when everyone knew that Alton’s show, Good Eats, contained equal parts information and humor. As did Alton’s stint as moderator on Iron Chef America. The man certainly had a poker face.

Jeff just laughed. When they reached the head of the line, he made sure to acquire the finest of tidbits for his feline companion, including but not limited to Beluga caviar and smoked salmon. Jeff eyed all the delectable comestibles. “Looks like I’ll need both hands,” he commented. GZ knew the drill. He climbed up Jeff and settled around his neck so Jeff could fill two plates.

There was no central location for eating. Guests were free to sit where they could find space. As Jeff looked around for an open spot, GZ heard a familiar voice.

“There’s room over here, Jeff. Why don’t you come and sit by me?”

GZ would have known that voice anywhere. Chef Alex Guarnaschelli was one of his best friends, as well as his fellow judge on Chopped, and at one time she’d once been his sous chef on Iron Chef America. When people asked if they were husband and wife, she liked to joke that she and GZ had been married for all of ten minutes. She was strong and tough and she was an amazing chef. GZ had a great admiration for her, in and out of the kitchen.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I think I will.” Jeff plopped down into the wing chair beside Alex, setting one plate on the small table between them so he could get settled. GZ clung tightly to Jeff’s neck, lest he fall, momentarily forgetting his claws.

“Ouch!” Jeff reached up and pulled the cat from his perch, settling him on one leg instead, one plate balanced on his other thigh. “Naughty boy, watch out for those things, willya?”

GZ meowed contritely.

“Let me guess, you’re Dr. Evil, right?” Alex said. “And that’s Mr. Bigglesworth? I thought he was bald?”

“The second one was, yeah,” Jeff said. “But this isn’t him, this is GZ. He’s just playing Mr. Bigglesworth tonight.”

Alex laughed. “Why am I not surprised you named the cat after Geoffrey Zakarian? Does he find that as amusing as I do?”

“Even more so, I think.” Jeff smiled. “You want to hold him?”

Not waiting for a response, GZ rose and leaped from Jeff’s lap to Alex’s, careful of Alex’s plate.

“Well, I guess he wants me to hold him whether I want to or not. He’s a smart kitty, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Jeff said enigmatically.

Alex began to stroke along GZ’s back. He relaxed at her touch, purring luxuriantly. “You are a soft fellow, aren’t you? I think GZ has a cat like you. His kids told me about him. They really love him, but he’s wild and he only shows up when he feels like it. You gotta admire someone like that, you know?”

GZ purred again, the only response he could make under the circumstances.

“Let me guess, that plate’s his?” Alex motioned toward the food on the table.

“How could you tell? It’s the kitty seafood special. He loves the stuff. Especially the caviar. Feel free to feed him, if you like.”

“He’s got the same rich taste as his owner.” Alex snorted.

to be continued

Now go see what's up with the other Briefers!

Cia Nordwell

J Alan Veerkamp

Johayan

Michael Mandrake

Carol Pedroso

                               

                               

Into the Spider's Web (Halloween Rose and Thorne) Part V - Conclusion

As promised, I'm bringing you the last part of the Halloween Rose and Thorne story. I hope you enjoy it! Now, here's the surprise I mentioned! I'm going to give one commenter a copy of anything from my backlist. What do you  have to do? Just comment on this post, and tell me what you think of Vinnie and Ethan, and would you like to see more of them? That's it. Than I'll pick a winner in a few days. Be sure to leave your email address, can't win without one!

I hope you've enjoyed this story even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hope you all had a Happy Halloween!

Into the Spider's Web Part V

“I’m very flattered, sir.”

Suddenly, I found her Hollywood smile a little too phony for my taste, and I thought she found Ethan entirely too appetizing. Especially since I was standing right there. Hello? Remember me? The Cleopatra that’s gonna send your poisonous ass to the moon if you don’t stop ogling my man? She held out her hand and Ethan bent over it like he was playing the courtier to her queen in some period drama.

Hey, wasn’t I supposed to be the queen here? I took a deep breath, forcing back words that would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap when I was a kid, my eyes trained jealously on the tableau before me.

If I saw even the slightest hint of his lips touching her flesh… well, let’s just say what would happen next wouldn’t be pretty.

Ethan raised his head, his lips never making contact with her skin, and I released my breath.  Unpleasant scene avoided.

Someone must have been looking out for us, for just at that moment, the actor we’d been discussing earlier made an appearance, his attention all for Miss St. Clair. “Caroline, darling!” he gushed. “Here you are! I’ve been searching everywhere for you. There’s someone you simply have to meet.”

With an apologetic shrug and a backward wave, Miss St. Clair allowed herself to be dragged off by the eager beaver, and we were alone once more. Relatively speaking.

“Back to business,” Ethan said in his no-nonsense voice, as I pushed the actress out of my head for more important matters. “I was watching Spider and the two cauldrons, and who he gave what to, and I’m pretty sure there’s something in those “special” bags he’s giving out. So I followed one of the recipients and relieved him of it when he wasn’t looking.”

“How did you do that?” I asked, amazed.

Ethan waggled his fingers at me and grinned. “Just a little skill I used to have, although I haven’t practiced it in quite a while. I guess I haven’t lost my touch.”

“I guess not,” I said in open admiration. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Could be,” he said—somewhat evasively, I thought—before changing the subject. “I think we need to check this out, and see if it’s what I think it is.” He held a small cloth bag in his hand, a far cry from the cheaper ones we’d been offered. He rolled it in his palm as if to gauge it.

I glanced around us. The party was in full swing by now, and everybody was too preoccupied with what they were doing to notice us. “Let’s go into that hallway. I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. Taking my hand, we casually but urgently strolled through the other guests, who were laughing and drinking and having a generally great time. At least one person was doing a line of coke. I made a mental note to do something about that later.

We darted into the hallway, no one paying us the slightest attention.  I kept an eye on the crowd, while Ethan opened the bag into his palm and whistled.

“What is it?” I glanced back at what he held.  “Wow, is that what I think it is?”

“Yep. Diamonds.” He moved his hand so that the stones caught the light, sparkling like tiny stars in his palm. “Can you imagine what these must be worth?”

“A whole lot more than you and me together.” I had a sudden thought. “Just think, if each of those bags had this many diamonds in it….?”

“That’s a whole lot of ice,” Ethan agreed. “Time to remove the spider from his web. I think we need to bring Anderson into this. He’s just waiting for the word to bring in his men.”

“But if he does that, how do we link Spider directly to the jewels? He’ll just say he doesn’t know anything about them.”

“You have a point.” Ethan frowned in thought. Then his brow cleared, as if he’d just thought of the solution to our dilemma, and he gave me one of his aren’t I so brilliant but you’re not going to like this looks.

I felt uneasy already.

“What?”

“You need to get Spider to give you one of those bags. Personally.”

“How the hell do you expect me to do that? Ask him? Please, Mr. Spider, can I have some of your lovely illegal jewels you’ve been smuggling as a souvenir of our non-existent relationship?  I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“I don’t think I’d put it quite like that to him, Vin.”

“Gee, really, Ethan?”

Ethan tried not to grin, but he failed. Miserably. “Use your feminine wiles on him.”

Wasn’t he just making things better?

I started to huff a very scathing retort when I heard a familiar voice intone,” My queen, you promised me a dance,” and the next thing I knew, I was being queen-handled into the main ballroom, headed for the dance floor, in the grasp of one Spider.

For a short, fat man, Spider moved surprisingly well. I tried to tug out of his hold, but to no avail. I caught sight of Ethan following behind us, indirectly, skirting the other guests in order to keep us in sight. I threw him a helpless glance. He held up one finger, as if to say be right back, then disappeared.

Great. I was all alone. Caught in the spider’s web.

As we approached the dance floor, the music, which had been thumping and bumping, turned soft and romantic. I had to believe that wasn’t a coincidence. His next words verified my impression.

“I told them to play something soft and slow,” Spider told me with a lascivious leer. Other than Ethan, why did I seem to attract such creeps? I wondered where Mrs. Spider was. Probably guarding the goodies. He probably gave her some excuse, or maybe he just told her to stay there.

Spider might not have eight legs, but I sure thought he had at least that many hands, and they were all over me. As soon as I removed one from my ass, another found its way to my fake bosom. I wondered why he didn’t know the difference. Maybe his marriage wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not my business and I didn’t really care.

“Ah, ah, ah,” I kept warning him, trying to maintain a girlish lilt when what I really wanted was to kick him in the nuts and tell him hands off. By the time the music ended, I knew how a fresh piece of fruit at the supermarket must feel, constantly being groped. And I was still no closer to the jewels. 

Not his, the diamonds.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. “Mr. Geist…” I began.

“Please, call me Spider. All my friends do.”

I forced myself not to gag and gave him a brilliant smile instead. “Spider,” I conceded, “how about we get some fresh air?” I wondered if he would take the bait, considering how smoggy the air over LA generally was. But he seemed very amenable to my suggestion and before I could even get in another word, he was power walking me toward the front door.

I was making this up on the fly, and I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something.  As we headed into the foyer, I was hard put not to fall behind. You’d think he was on his way to a fire. I was grateful that the sandals Ethan had gotten me were flat. I’d hate to think what would have happened if I’d had to stumble after him in heels.

I spotted his waspish wife where I thought she might be—by the cauldrons. I wondered how she would take his hauling me out the door like he’d just won me in a box of Cracker Jacks? Probably not very well. Probably like a woman scorned… Hmm, I wondered…

As we came abreast of the cauldrons, I managed to dig in my heels, enough to slow him down, since he wasn’t expecting any resistance on my part. Mrs. G gave me a suspicious look, and her husband a very dirty one. I noticed the one cauldron held far less than it had before. If I didn’t act soon, there would be no jewels, and he’d have succeeded in eluding arrest once more.

“Oh, Spider, thank you so much for a wonderful time!” I impulsively threw my arms around my unsuspecting victim and hugged him. He sure didn’t put up much of a fight, especially considering his wife was standing right there. And there went that pesky hand again, right to my ass. Didn’t he even know what a woman’s ass should feel like? Mine sure didn’t feel like that, I knew.

“Frederick!” his wife hissed, probably trying to maintain some sense of decorum when what she really wanted to do was scream at him. Ignoring her, he dove in for a kiss, and I barely managed to side step him.

“Naughty boy!” I managed to haul my royal ass to the other side of the cauldron, next to his wife. Without pausing for thought, I plunged my hand into the cauldron, feeling about for one of the cloth bags which I knew held the jewels. I picked one at random and lifted it out.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Spider gaped at me.

“Spider promised me,” I lied, hoping to light a spark inside of her.

It worked.

“No, you can’t have that, you silly little tramp. He never gave you those, you’re lying, I know you are.”

“But they are his to give, yes?”

“Yes, but he would never give them to the likes of you, you’re not on the list…”

“”Madeline!” Spider realized what was happening, too late, and lunged for the bag in my hand. Being taller, I managed to hold it out of his reach. Furious, he snapped his fingers. I should have seen that coming. Didn’t it stand to reason he had bodyguards? Big burly ones who looked as though they meant serious business, and wouldn’t care if I was a woman or a man.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it ends here,” Spider said. “Return those to me this instant.”

“You mean I can’t have them?” I pouted, thrusting out my lower lip as sexily as I could. “You want them for yourself?”

Come on, say it, buster, say it….

“They are mine, you silly bitch!” He thrust his hand out. “Either give them to me or suffer the consequences.”

The first bodyguard had reached me by then. He was big and burly and built like a gorilla. “Be a nice girl and give that back,” he tried to cajole me.

“Don’t wanna be a nice girl,” I told him just before I kneed his nuts and ran toward the door.

“Get her!” Spider screamed.

I was dimly aware of an ensuing pandemonium as all hell broke loose. Guests screamed, the bodyguards were chasing me, and I was doing my best to get the hell out of Dodge. One of the gruesome team managed to get ahead of me and tripped me, sending me flying. I held tight to the small bag as I skidded across the floor. Once I stopped moving, I rolled onto my back as he closed in for what he thought was the kill, only to back off when I punched him unexpectedly hard in the jaw.

“You don’t hit like a lady,” he complained.

“I wonder why,” I muttered, regaining my feet just as the front door burst open, and in came the cavalry, led by my own personal hero, Ethan.

“Vinnie, watch out!” he yelled, pointing behind me.

I ducked and whirled, only to find Spider, his gun aimed at me. He fired over my head, thanks to Ethan’s warning. I pulled my weapon from my thigh holster and trained it on him. He stared at me open-mouthed, even as his wife began to screech, “You sure know how to pick’em, don’t you? A lady cop? You idiot!”

“Shut up, Madeline,” he warned her before he turned to me and his eyes grew big. I looked down at myself and I realized why. My falsies had come awry, and one boob was a lot higher than the other. I wrenched the offending bosom back into place.

“What’s a girl gonna do?” I gave him a sweet smile and watched as one of LA’s finest cuffed him, and began to read him his rights.

“There’s where the jewels are,” Ethan pointed out to Anderson even as he hurried to me, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

He threw his arms around me and pulled me close, and we held on to one another in the midst of the chaos as arrests were made, and the guests were politely taken aside and asked to please give statements.  More real excitement than the dramas they generally saw on their movie sets.

We were still standing there when Anderson  approached and patted each of us on the back. “Good job,” he said. “You did good work. We got everything on tape, thanks to your wire, plus we have the evidence. He won’t be able to easily wriggle out of this one.”

“Good. I hope they throw the book at him, handsy little bastard,” I muttered.

“Handsy little… what did he do?” Ethan demanded to know, and I saw his own green-eyed monster rise to the occasion once again. I admit to feeling a little bit of satisfaction at that.

“He tried lots of stuff, but he got nowhere,” I assured him. “Can we go now?” I turned big puppy dog eyes on Anderson. Sometimes they worked on him.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. I’ll get your statement tomorrow. Get some sleep, why don’t you?”

That sounded like a damn good idea. I wanted nothing more than to put this behind us. To go back to our apartment in Richmond and leave LA far behind.

That night we lay in bed together, snuggled tightly about one another. I’d stripped off every vestige of the Queen of the Nile, more than happy to shed that heavy ass wig, and that dress, and all of it.

“I don’t understand how he didn’t know,” I repeated for about the tenth time. “Seriously, I do not look like a woman.”

“Baby,” Ethan tried to explain again, “when you get all made up and put on one of your dresses and everything… you’re as beautiful as any woman.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that and decided to let it go for now.

“You know something, Eth?”

“What’s that?”

“If that’s what a Hollywood party’s like, I hope I never see another one.”

He laughed and held me closer. I snuggled into his warmth and decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. “Happy Halloween,” I murmured sleepily.

“Happy Halloween, Vinnie,” I heard him respond just before I fell asleep.

Edit: Here's a picture of Vinnie, as I see him, without his make-up

As to how he learned how to make-up, I believe that happened when he received his first assignment to play a drag queen :)

Into the Spider's Web (Halloween Rose and Thorne) Part IV

Happy Halloween everyone! As promised, I have the next part of Rose and Thorne, but as it turns out, it isn't the last! Come back tomorrow to find out what happens! I hope you're enjoying my little tale! Have a wonderful Halloween!

Into the Spider's Web Part IV

If I’d had a fan, I would have giggled girlishly behind it and tossed out a quick “Fiddle-dee-dee”, but I didn’t. Not like it would have gone with the costume anyway. That would be Scarlett O’Hara, not Cleopatra. So I did the next best thing. Staying in character, I gave the object of our surveillance a regal smile, and managed a breathy, “I’ll get back to you on that, sir.”

Well, didn’t my offhand remark have an immediate effect? I was surprised to feel Ethan stiffen beside me—and not in a good way—and for once he didn’t make a smart-ass reply.

 Well, well, well, Mr. Thorne does have a jealous bone, doesn’t he?

Meanwhile, the wife’s face had become mottled with very unbecoming red blotches, and she seemed in imminent danger of blowing a head gasket.

I wondered if she’d be angrier or relieved if she knew her husband was actually hitting on a guy wearing a dress?

Ethan, in the meantime, had managed to recover his equilibrium and turned back into his normal charming self. “Thank you so much for inviting my fiancé and me, Mr. and Mrs. Geist. You have a very lovely home.”

If looks could kill, I think Ethan would be dead, judging by the expression on Spider’s face. So would I, for that matter, considering the lasers that beamed at me from Mrs. G’s eyes. I quickly averted my gaze.

Two cauldrons filled with gift bags sat beside Spider. I’d noticed that he’d given something to everyone who’d been ahead of us in line, either from one cauldron or the other. We each received a small novelty bag. I wondered what was the difference between the two? Maybe one was for preferred guests and held a better class of gifts, while the other was for B-listers like us.

Time to blend into the woodwork and take stock of the situation.

“We’re very glad you could attend,” Mrs. Spider was saying in a voice so sharp you could cut yourself on it. We quickly made our excuses and hurried away, allowing other guests to run the gauntlet.

The main event was taking place in a room that could have passed as an airplane hangar. It contained a variety of seating for those guests who preferred not to stand, as well as plenty of room for everyone else to mingle and tangle or whatever you might choose to do in such a crowd. There was even a decent-sized dance floor, and a live, honest-to-goodness band and not a DJ. When these people threw a party, they went all out, apparently. When you lived in La La Land, I guess you had to keep up appearances.

Tables filled with refreshments took up one side of the room, and a bar was set up in the corner. I half expected to see liveried footman in powdered wigs making their appointed rounds. Maybe they had the night off.

Ethan and I stood together, away from everyone. Not that I thought we could be overheard over the music, or the general hubbub of conversation.

A couple passed by us, fluted champagne glasses in hand.  I took a second look. There was something very familiar about the guy. I frowned as I tried to think where I might know him from.

“Hey, Wolfy.” I lightly nudged Ethan’s side.

“Yes, Lotta?” he quipped.

“That guy who just walked by us, do you recognize him from anywhere?”

Ethan gave a subtle glance toward the man in question. Luckily, he’d stopped not far away to speak to someone and his profile was turned in our direction.

“You mean the guy with the winning smile talking to the short bald guy?”

I tried not to scowl too much at Ethan’s description. “Yeah, him.”

“Of course I recognize him. His face is all over the tabloids, every time we go to the store. Plus we saw his last movie. You know, the one about the CIA?”

Oh yeah and duh. Damn, I should have realized. It suddenly dawned on me there were a lot of people from the film industry here. Not surprising, considering where we were and who Spider was. Movie stars and criminals seemed to go hand in hand.

“Think any of them are part of what’s going on?”

“Naw, I doubt it. I think they’re just here to hobnob with the criminal element, you know?”

Yeah, I knew what he meant.

Some of Tinseltown’s most famous faces were represented. I tried not to stare. Pretend I wasn’t as impressed as I was. Resist the urge to ask for someone’s autograph.

“Want a drink?” Ethan asked.

I wrinkled my nose. “Probably not a good idea.”

“Afraid Spider might start looking good to you?”

I rolled my eyes and didn’t deign to answer his ridiculous question. “I don’t think it’s likely we’ll see him again, anyway. Not with all the guests he has, and considering we’re the least among them.”

“Oh yeah? Then why is he headed in this direction with that I-want-to-dance look in his eyes.”

“Oh hell and shitfire!” I swore. “Ethan, quick, take me out on the dance floor. Right now!”

“Yes, my queen,” he intoned and I had to refrain from kicking him in the shins—if not a higher location—as that would entirely defeat my purpose.  He took me by the hand and we almost raced toward where the other couples were moving and grooving to the beat of the music the band was producing, losing ourselves in their midst. I breathed more easily as we fell into step together.

“You know what I’m thinking? Maybe you should cozy up to Spider a little bit?” Ethan suggested.

I gave him a horrified look. We were doing a two-step to something slow and romantic, and I gazed up into his eyes.

“Maybe he has loose lips? Just a thought, baby.”

Damn, he had a point. “Let’s look around first, see what we can see,” I said, wanting to postpone what appeared to be the inevitable.

“Good idea.” He pulled me closer, our thighs meeting harmoniously as we swayed back and forth. His hands caressed my lower back, and his touch felt so good I had to remind myself we were working.

“Dance over this way a little bit.” Ethan nodded toward one side of the dance floor, the side which was closest to where we’d come in.

“Why?”

“I want to see something. I have a theory.”

I had no choice but to acquiesce to his request, and we two-stepped our way through the rest of the dancers, keeping a wary eye out for Spider, before taking up our new position.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I just want to see if I can tell any difference between who gets which cauldron.”

“You don’t think it’s a matter of importance? Famous people versus nobodies?”

“I don’t think so. I think there’s more method than that to this madness.”

Since I couldn’t see out of the back of my head, I let Ethan play observer, and I just melted into his arms and enjoyed the dance. All too soon, of course, it ended.

“C’mon, something’s really fishy,” he said. “Let’s head toward the refreshment table, and maybe we can see more from there.” He took my arm in his and escorted me across the floor. I gawked about me as we dove through the throng.  Wow, Spider sure knew a whole lot of celebrities.

The refreshment table was stocked with enough food to feed a starving nation. Hot food, cold food, finger food, forked food… Caviar and canapés, an array of different kinds of meat and fish, as well as a wide assortment of fruits and vegetables, pastas and soufflés, and things I couldn’t even begin to identify. I debated whether I should get something to eat just to fit in then decided I didn’t really want anything. I was too keyed up with the adrenaline of being on the job to consider eating.

“Mind if I leave you here for a minute?” Ethan asked. “I think I’ll be less conspicuous by myself. You can distract people with your great beauty from over here.”

Such a smooth talker. “Go ahead,” I encouraged him. “See what you can see.”

He kissed me softly. “My pretty queen,” he murmured, and before I could say anything about not being a queen, he’d already gone.

I continued to scan the selection of foods on the table nearest to where I stood. I didn’t want to stare after Ethan, and maybe draw attention to him, and there was really nothing else to do. Lost in contemplation of the cornucopia before me, I was surprised by a voice that came from beside me. I knew it wasn’t Ethan—this voice was feminine.

“I love your costume. Doesn’t that wig weigh a ton? I know mine usually do.”

I glanced at the speaker. She stood a little shorter than me and had the most gorgeous red hair with golden highlights which glittered in the light from the ginormous chandeliers which hung above us. She had beautiful emerald eyes, which sparkled with humor, and well-sculpted ruby lips, which were smiling at me.

Sudden recognition washed over me. This was Caroline St. Clair. The Caroline St. Clair. Ethan and I were huge fans of her work. And here she was standing right next to me.

It took me a minute to process what she’d said. My brain just wasn’t cooperating. Neither was my tongue. I imagined she was used to such a reaction when she went out in public. I tried to remove the deer-in-the-headlights look from my eyes and manage something at least halfway intelligible. Plus I needed to remember I was supposed to be a lady, so I had to try and keep my voice from dropping into more masculine registers.

“Thank you,” I managed, finally. “It is pretty heavy, I admit. But it came with the costume.” I shrugged, as if to say what could I do? “Your costume is beautiful,” I added, actually looking at it for the first time.

The actress was dressed in a sexy green outfit which clung to her curves like a second skin. It was covered in matching leaves, and had a corset top which overflowed with her half-bared bosom. Green satin gloves ran from her fingers to her upper arm, and her thigh-high boots would have been the envy of any dominatrix. I was drawing blanks as to whom she was meant to be, sadly.

“Poison Ivy,” she supplied the name. Duh. I should have known. “And thank you. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Oh yes, very much,” I lied through my teeth. “You?”

She shrugged. For just a moment, the corner of her mouth went down, and I saw an expression of sadness in her eyes. But then it was gone. I must have imagined it. I tried to remember what I’d read about her recently, something about an engagement? A quick glance at her hand confirmed this in the form of a large diamond ring. The kind I’d probably never be able to afford in this lifetime or the next.

She must have noticed I’d spotted her ring. “My fiancé couldn’t come,” she explained. “What about you? Are you stag tonight too?”

I was surprised her studio hadn’t supplied her with an escort. I was about to respond to her question when her gaze went past me. “Wow, that Marc Antony is very sexy. By any chance, does he belong to you?”

I turned to look behind me. “Oh yes, he’s mine,” I informed her, hoping I didn’t come off as possessive as I thought I did. He was headed our way, and I could just tell he had information to share. He had that certain gleam in his eye which I was more than familiar with.

“You’re so lucky,” Miss St. Clair said, and I knew I wasn’t imagining it this time—there was a wistful quality in her voice.

“I know it,” I said, honestly.

As Ethan approached and recognized who I was talking to, I saw his eyes grow a little wide, but he had the couth to hide it better than I had. “Well, well, the two loveliest ladies at the party, how lucky can a guy get?”

Miss St. Clair giggled, and I refrained from rolling my eyes as he dropped to his knees at my feet. “My queen,” he said, in a voice that was too reminiscent of Spider’s. I stamped my foot, and he wisely took that as a sign to rise.

“Good evening,” he greeted my companion. “That’s a very lovely costume. Almost as lovely as the lady wearing it.”

O good Lord…

 to be continued

Into the Spider's Web (Halloween Rose and Thorne) Part III

As promised, here is the next part of my Halloween tale. Look for the end tomorrow, as well as a giveaway!

Into the Spider's Web Part III

Nothing to be done but grin and bear it. While bitching and whining might have been more psychologically satisfying, it would have got me nowhere and would only have delayed the inevitable. And there really was no sense in arguing with Ethan, since he really was a silver-tongued devil, so I decided to just go with it.

Ethan volunteered to shave my legs, so I peevishly agreed to let him. I decided that for what he’d done,  I deserved to be pampered and he deserved to be punished, although I suspected he didn’t view it as punishment. Especially since it was his idea in the first place. How could I really object, though, since he had a very gentle touch? And he kissed my legs as he worked. Bet that’s something I wouldn’t get in any fancy salon, even out here in the Land of Weirdness.

Once that was out of the way, I shaved my face and showered, being careful not to get my hair wet. Then I pulled it back into a bun on top of my head, flattening it as much as possible so it wouldn’t poof up the wig. “You know how much fucking trouble I’m going to for you?” I practically shouted from the bathroom. By now, Ethan was probably already dressed in all his glorious Roman-ness. “Do you have any idea how horrid this lighting is? Don’t complain to me if I botch this make-up.”

“Baby, you’re always beautiful, no matter what.”

Ethan stood in the doorway, striking a pose. Damn, that costume looked good on him. Made his legs look even sexier. I eyed the skirt critically. “Are you going commando under that?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He grinned and I scowled.

“For your sake, you better hope you’re not, because if I have to focus on you and keep an eye out for Hollywood wolves trying to cop a feel, I might miss something important going on around us, if you know what I mean.”

“I know just what you mean. Don’t worry. I’m not,” he assured me. He took a step into the room, and I felt my temperature begin to rise. And other things.

He kissed me sweetly, glanced south, and smirked. “Good thing that dress isn’t completely sheer. That won’t show as much.”

“Yeah, real lucky,” I muttered. “I feel like I won the lottery. Now shoo while I put on my face.”

He obediently left the room and I turned my attention to my face in the mirror once more, going extra heavy on the coal black liner, and adding gold shadow that made my blue eyes practically pop. A touch of blush on my cheeks, and the barest hint of lipstick completed my look.

“Ethan, hand me the costume, will you?”

He stood in the doorway and watched as I shimmied into the too-sheer gown. Luckily there was an under layer of skirt that was a little darker and didn’t reveal the silhouette of my gun in its holster. I had nowhere else to carry it, and I wasn’t about to go unarmed.

Finally, I added the wig. It fell in a sheer black fall down my back, and was as heavy as I’d dreaded. I’d probably have a headache by the end of the night. I set the crown on my head, and slid the arm bands into place, followed by the bracelets.

“Come, my queen, and I’ll help lace your sandals,” Ethan offered.

I placed my fingers lightly atop his palm and he led me regally into the bedroom. I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed while he placed each sandal on my foot and laced it up my calf.

“I think you’re the one who’s going to be fighting off wolves tonight. I think I just might have to kick a little Hollywood ass in order to defend your honor.”

I flushed and rolled my eyes. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re full of it?”

“You do, all the time.” Nothing ever fazed that boy. He had a comeback for everything.

I had a thought. “So, if you’re Wolfgang, who am I? I should have a name in case someone asks me what the hell it is.”

“Of course you have a name. How about Brunhilda?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” One look in his eyes and I knew he was.

“How about Carlotta?” he suggested. Much better. I could handle that one. Even if it did mean manly. It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances.

“Are we married?” I wanted to know. “We should get our stories straight in case we get separated and someone tries to grill us.”

“If we were married, the invitation would say Mr. and Mrs.,” Ethan pointed out. “How about engaged and very much in love?”

“I can live with that. We can go over details on the way there.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “You ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As we headed out the door, I hoped tonight would not provide any actual scares. For us, anyway.

* * * *

Spider’s estate sat on the top of a steep hill which offered a breathtaking view of nighttime L.A. It was lit up brighter than the Vegas Strip. He had several valets parking the guests’ cars. Where they were parking them, I had no idea. I hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite us in the ass. We turned over our car at the foot of the hill and walked up the winding driveway.

The house looked like something straight out of Gone with the Wind, only Hollywood style, with a Halloween theme added for good measure. The lawn, which resembled an airplane runway, was littered with headstones, and what seemed to be freshly dug earth. I half wondered if maybe these graves were occupied by actual victims,  and I had to resist the urge to dig one up to find out.  Maybe later.

Zombies walked through the graveyard, scaring guests at random, eliciting screams of excitement. Nothing terrifying. Just good clean Halloween fun. Witches on broomsticks flew through the sky, so real you could almost forget you saw the wires they hung from. Vampires and ghosts and goblins, oh my. No stone had gone unturned in the search for the proverbial thrills.

We reached the doorway, where we presented our invitation to the bouncer at the door, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Frankenstein’s monster. I wasn’t going to be the one who asked him where he got his costume, only to learn he wasn’t wearing one.

He looked from the invitation to me. “How does the lady wish to be announced?”

Well, knock me down with a feather. The monster had manners. I told him and listened with satisfaction as he announced, “Wolfgang Meier and Miss Carlotta.”

We stood in the middle of a huge foyer. A chandelier the size of the State of Liberty’s torch hung above us, its prisms sending rainbows of color cascading about the room, painting the guests in their myriad costumes. We joined what was obviously a reception line. Playing my part to the hilt, I laid my hand on Ethan’s arm as we approached the couple who were undoubtedly the host and hostess.

Spider was surprisingly short, not at all spidery, as I’d imagined. He had dark hair, carefully groomed, and fleshy cheeks, and under his rather large nose a caterpillar had taken up residence, perhaps in search of shade. When he smiled, I could see that he’d made some orthodontist a very happy man—a perfect smile, gleaming to the best polished perfection money could buy.

In contrast, his wife was thin and tall and blond, standing a good head above her husband. She didn’t smile, so maybe she hadn’t received the same great dental care her husband her, or maybe she was unhappy about something.  There was no warmth in her eyes at all. Which just goes to show money can’t buy happiness, ‘cause she sure had the money, but no sign of the happiness.

Of course, that was just a quick assessment based on zero acquaintance. But hey, it’s what I was trained to do.

He seemed to be dressed as an undertaker, while I think she was supposed to be a shepherdess, judging by the crook in her hand, and the sheep at her feet. Not a stuffed animal, mind you, but an honest-to-goodness baa baa black sheep. With honest-to-goodness black sheep droppings on the floor.

Now that’s something you don’t expect to see at a swanky Halloween party.

As we approached them, I saw Spider’s eyes light up, and for a moment I was afraid we’d been made somehow. But then he made a low, sweeping bow before me. “My queen,” he intoned like he’d seen too many old mummy movies, “my beautiful Queen of the Nile, I am yours to command.”

Oh, brother…

 to be continued