Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror, стр. 35

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Candy, Dentures, and Way Too Much Spandex

by R.S. Grey

“There’s been a murder in Paradise Springs!” Sandy exclaimed, clapping her hands wildly in the front row of the residents’ meeting.

“Well there will be,” I clarified, trying to calm the outburst that was sure to ensue.

Sandy’s grin gave away the fact that the theme for the Paradise Springs’ Halloween party had been decided in her favor. The small living room erupted into shouts as other residents clamored to be heard. As the head of the party planning committee, it was my job to make sure these meetings ran smoothly.

“I don’t think a murder mystery party will be fun for everyone,” a resident shouted.

“What’s wrong with doing the Hawaiian Halloween party again?” someone else yelled from the back. “Why does Sandy always get the final say in these things?”

I was standing at the front of the room, surrounded by drapes that hadn’t been updated since the 1950s and couches that always had a certain stench to them. I tried to get everyone’s attention, but it was no use.

I thought being a nurse would be glamorous. While I studied on nights and weekends in nursing school, I’d picture myself walking through the halls of a hospital in perfectly fitted scrubs. There’d always been an imaginary fan blowing my hair back, and I’d point to someone and wink as I walked by them in slow motion.

Sadly, reality hadn’t worked out that way. I’d graduated from nursing school during a year where the job market was flooded with new applications. As a mediocre human being with average grades and of average height, I’d wound up as a nurse at Paradise Springs, a premiere retirement community, or so it was described on the information packet.

“Everyone, calm down!” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the group.

There was no use in even trying. It was the start of October, and we’d just voted on what the theme would be for Paradise Springs’ Annual Halloween Party. And no, apparently “Halloween” isn’t a theme in and of itself. I’d had my head chewed off for suggesting such a ludicrous idea when I first started my job two years ago.

Last year’s theme was “Christmas in October”, and our Jewish residents had protested outside of the party with signs and tastefully done sugar cookies that involved decapitated Santa Clauses. For dramatic effect, they separated the heads and the bodies onto two plates. The year before that, it was a “Hawaiian” Halloween. They’d tried to stuff a live pig, but it escaped and ran around the community for two days before Animal Services had finally come in to catch it.

So you can imagine my surprise when the residents voted on a theme for this year’s party and it actually made sense.

This year we would do a Murder Mystery Halloween Party.

“How much does it even cost to hire one of those fancy party crews?” one of our residents asked. “You know, the ones who come in and set up the murder mystery for you.”

I glanced down at my clipboard where I’d circled the party’s total budget in red pen three times. I wouldn’t let them sweet-talk me into breaking it again this year. Last time it ended up coming out of my paycheck.

“Guys, we have $100 to spend on the entire party. That includes food, drinks, and decorations. I don’t think we can hire a party crew to come in and host the event.”

“What about having George write a script for us?” Anne asked from the front row. I smiled down at her, glad to have an ally during these monthly resident meetings.

“Oh please,” Sandy responded haughtily.

“What? I think he could do a great job,” Anne insisted, swiveling around in her chair to turn her green eyes on Sandy. The two did not get along very well, but I was team Anne all the way. You would have been too. She looked like a cooler version of Queen Elizabeth, and she was my best friend.

George, who had remained silent until that moment, stood up and straightened his black-framed glasses on the tip of his nose.

“I accept the role and will gladly write a murder mystery! The likes of which could grace the Broadway stage,” he said, holding his chin up high and exiting the room while we all watched him, confused as to why he was leaving considering the meeting wasn’t over yet.

“Are you kidding me? Him?” Sandy asked, pointing to the doorway that George had just exited.

“He’s worked in theater his whole life, and it’s not like we have any other options,” Anne protested.

I glanced around the room, toward the other silent residents, but no one seemed to want to volunteer to argue with Anne or Sandy.

“Okay,” I sighed. “It’s decided. We’ll have a murder mystery Halloween Party,” I said, setting the clipboard down on the table behind me. “I’ll talk to George about the script and make sure it’s ready in time.”

“Now, let’s talk about the food,” Sandy said, rubbing her hands together like she was planning something diabolical.

That was the point where I pretty much tuned out. It’s strange that nowhere in my nursing training had they discussed proper party planning techniques. Oh yeah, because they’d assumed I’d actually be a nurse. I mean, I did do some nursing duties, but when I first started at Paradise Springs, they’d been majorly understaffed. Management had asked me to help coordinate a few things, and I agreed without a second thought. As the months passed, and they continued to be understaffed, I fell even more into my “jack of all trades” role.

“No! No! I said Halloween Chic, do you think marshmallows made to look like spiders is chic, Mary Joe?” Sandy’s harsh words pulled me out of my daydream.

“Okay, alright.” I held my hands up in the air like an orchestra conductor. “Let’s settle down, everyone.”

Thirty minutes, one pair of missing dentures, and one hysterical Mary Joe later, I finally walked out of the meeting with Anne by my side.

“Boy, I tell you, that Sandy is a piece of work,” Anne said, taking her glasses off so that they hung limply from the lanyard around her neck.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, though. The party will be a hit, and George will make a good script,” I said as we rounded the corner toward Anne’s room.

“I hope so. My grandson will probably be attending the party,” she said, sliding her gaze to me from beneath her lashes. I knew what she was doing, and still, I was helpless to stop the blush that always crept onto my cheeks whenever she mentioned her grandson, Sawyer. A vision of his handsome appearance popped into my head before I could tamp it out.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably have a date, so we can introduce them,” I said, flailing for a response and landing on one that had no basis in reality.

October 31st arrived much faster than I had hoped it would. My plan had been to transform into a cooler, sexier version of myself before the Halloween party so that I could impress Sawyer, but as I stared at the mirror inside the employee bathroom of Paradise Springs, I decided I hadn’t even come close.

My pale blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut, and my brown eyes were rimmed by lightly mascaraed lashes. I mostly looked like a grown-up version of Tinker Bell, which I knew from experience, was not every adult male’s fantasy. On a scale of one to Kim Kardashian, my curves and sex appeal fell at about a one.