These Boots Are Made for Stalking Read online

  “Hey!” Dempsey swung at the eyeballs with the ten-foot spear he’d used to accessorize his tiny red loincloth. “My mom got this at a tribal ceremony in Africa! She’ll kill you if it gets messed up.”

  “And she’ll kill you if she realizes her skirt’s missing from her display case,” Kristen chided her crush, tugging at the pewter Undrest chemise she wore over lumpy metallic leggings; she had a ski suit on under her costume in case she ran into her mom and had to do a quick change. The overall effect was more sumo wrestler than sexy trampire.

  Out of eyeballs, Derrington ran back over and punched Josh-slash-Victoria Beckham in the shoulder. “Dude, this is a family show. Keep it clean.”

  “Huh?” Josh Spice glanced down. Without Alicia’s C-cups to hold it in place, the black strapless minidress he’d borrowed from her was starting to inch down his chest. “Whoops. I guess I need a smaller size.” He grinned, cracking the perma-Posh-frown he’d painted on with lip liner.

  Alicia’s cheeks flushed to match her Stila-stained pout. “It’sbigonmetoo.”

  Cam let out a quiet snicker and Claire elbowed him swiftly in the ribs. Not that she was actually mad. Even in an umpire mask and blood-tipped fangs, Cam looked adorable. The furry bat on his shoulder had been Claire’s idea, and it was the perfect finishing touch for his ump-pire costume.

  “Claire, are you a judge on Dancing with the Stars?” Massie’s voice jolted Claire from her Cam-coma. Or, as Massie liked to call it, her Cam-a.

  “Nope.”

  “Then quit checking Cam’s every move.” Massie resumed her strut, leading the girls and their crushes toward the house.

  Busted. Claire grinned, relieved that Massie was in a good mood despite being crush-minus for the night. She was even more relieved that the Pretty Committee was finally back to normal. And it was partly thanks to her. When she’d figured out that Massie had hired actors for her new crew, Claire had taken matters into her own hands. She’d secretly convinced the actors to act clingier than a cheap jersey dress so Massie would realize who her true friends were. And now the PC was back and stronger than Zac and Vanessa.

  When they reached the end of the driveway, Dylan whipped her red feather boa around her neck with a flourish and tromped up the stone steps toward the arched wooden door.

  Claire burst out laughing at the sight of a very tiny Luke Skywalker coming down the steps, swishing a neon light saber at an imaginary opponent.

  “Huuuuuuuuuargh,” Chewie squealed.

  “Layne,” Massie snapped, the tips of her fangs showing slightly. “English, puh-lease.”

  Chewie swung her wrinkly rubber face in Claire’s direction.

  “Method acting,” Claire explained. “She can’t break character.”

  Massie rolled her kohl-lined eyes. “Actors,” she said, just loud enough for Dempsey to hear. Then she planted her Chanel Black Satin–polished nail on the doorbell, and a ghoulish wail echoed inside the dark entryway.

  Seconds later, a silver-haired man in a cornflower blue cardigan and a neon green Frankenstein mask answered the door. A giant glass bowl overflowing with colorfully wrapped goodies was cradled under his left arm.

  “Trick-or-treeeeeeaaaat,” Claire bellowed along with her friends.

  Except for Massie, who was sneaking a peek at her iPhone.

  And Chewie, who grunted, “Huuua huuaaaarrghhhhh!”

  The trampires extended their bags. They’d chosen the roomiest designer totes they owned, to maximize candy-filling potential. The boys and Layne had brought Hefty garbage bags.

  “Well,” a muffled, grandfatherly voice leaked from the rubber mask. “Aren’t you all”—the mask surveyed the trampires’ barely there costumes—“something.”

  “Given.” Alicia beamed.

  “Fill ’er up,” Dylan interrupted, elbowing her way to the front door and yanking open the black patent Versace rolling trolley she used for overnight trips.

  Frankenstein peered skeptically inside the suitcase, then dropped a tin of chocolate hazelnut espresso beans into the empty tote. It landed with a hollow thud.

  “Thanks.” Dylan didn’t budge.

  Frankenstein took the hint, digging a small gold box of chocolates and a pack of colorful gummies from the bowl. He dropped those in the bag too. Claire’s mouth watered and she shifted impatiently in her peep-toes.

  “Dylan.” Massie had stashed her iPhone back in her bag. “Are you a Barney’s twenty-four-hour sale?”

  Dylan shook her head, sending her professionally straightened locks swinging in a shimmering velvet curtain around her shoulders.

  Massie glanced at Alicia, Claire, and Kristen.

  “’Cause you’re taking ALL DAY!” the girls cackled, hip-bumping Dylan out of the way.

  Claire tried not to gawk as Frankenstein filled the rest of the PC’s designer candy bags. Comparing Halloween in Orlando to Halloween in Westchester was like comparing Keds to Kors. Here, Claire’s tote was filled with chocolates from the Godiva G collection, Dean & Deluca butter caramels, and gummy vampire fangs from Dylan’s Candy Bar. In Florida, the best Claire could hope for in her plastic pumpkin was a mini Snickers. Once, she’d gotten a tube of denture cream.

  Yip! Yip! Yip!

  Massie blushed under her pressed powder and hugged her bag to her chest.

  “What was that?” Claire demanded as they made their way down the steps.

  “What was what?” Massie asked lightly. They passed a gaggle of sixth-graders dressed as the cast of High School Musical who were pelting one another with reject candy. Ducking to avoid taking a cellophane-wrapped candy apple to the head, Claire furrowed her brow at Massie’s tote.

  “Your bag barked.” Claire cocked her head slightly to the right, staring directly into Massie’s eyes. It was the same look Massie gave Alicia when she suspected her of withholding good gossip.

  “Puh-lease. I invented that look.” Massie shook her head, staring over Claire’s shoulder into the chilly darkness.

  But Claire had learned from the best and she refused to look away.

  Massie sighed. “Fine,” she said, unzipping her bag and pulling out her iPhone. “It’s the SnoopDawg Web site. It barks every time Bean shifts positions.” She tilted the phone in Claire’s direction.

  “Uh… I don’t see anything,” Claire said into the black screen.

  “I know,” Massie huffed. “The charm got twisted around or something. It’s recording Bean’s throat.”

  Claire shook her head, swallowing a giggle. “Come on,” she coaxed. “Put the phone away. Bean’s fine.”

  “Fine.” Massie chucked her phone into her bag. “Happy?” But the gleam in her amber eyes proved she wasn’t really mad.

  “Let’s move, people,” Dylan interrupted. “There’s still six houses on this street.”

  Claire and Massie linked arms with Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen and turned to go.

  “Wait. Where’d the boys go?” Alicia sucked in her breath and stopped dead in her tracks, yanking Claire and the rest of girls to a halt. Keeping her elbow locked with Claire’s, she dragged the PC chain in a 180-degree turn, making them look like the Rockettes prepping for their finale in the middle of the driveway.

  Claire squint-searched for Cam. “Um, there.” She pointed to the front lawn, where her crush, the rest of the boys, and Layne were rearranging a giant spider lawn ornament in the yard to make it look like it was humping a defenseless jack-o’-lantern. Claire blushed.

  Kristen sighed.

  Alicia lowered her eyes to the pavement.

  “Come on. The boys’ll catch up later,” Massie ordered, steering them toward the street.

  At least it’s dark, Claire thought to herself, embarrassed for their crushes and Layne. Maybe no one would recognize Cam in his ump-pire mask. Josh Spice, on the other hand…

  “Hotz! Hotz! Hotz!” Suddenly the boys sprinted past the PC, egging Josh on as he ran barefoot into the street. He held the giant lawn spider over his head like an Olympic trophy.
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  “My pumps!” Alicia wailed, speed-leading the PC in the boys’ wake. “Those were vintage!”

  Behind them, Layne pity-patted Alicia’s shoulder with a hairy paw.

  “Yip! Yip! Yip!” Bean’s bark leaked from Massie’s bag again. She reached for her phone. Again.

  Massie stare-silenced Claire before she could say a word. “It just so happens, Kuh-laire, that this is the longest Bean and I have ever been apart. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t—”

  “No lights.” Josh huffed as the girls caught up to them in front of the next house on the street. He bent over like he was cramping from too many soccer sprints.

  “And no decorations,” Dempsey shuddered, his bare legs starting to turn a grayish-purple in the cold.

  “Which means no good candy.” Dylan leaned against her rolling suitcase, narrowing her eyes at the modest two-story brick house in front of them. A single, unlit jack-o’-lantern sagged on the front stoop.

  “Steeeeeeeer-ike three!” Cam called, baring his fangs.

  Claire’s heart fluttered in her chest.

  “Opposite of worth it,” Alicia decided after a quick re-gloss.

  “Skip it,” Kristen declared.

  “No way,” Claire said firmly. “N.H.L.B.”

  “N.H.L.B.?” Kristen echoed.

  “No House Left Behind,” Claire explained. “That means we hit every house, every year. No exceptions.”

  Cam’s blue eye filled with admiration. So did his green one.

  “We’re not in it for the candy, Kuh-laire,” Massie said dismissively. “We’re in it for the costumes.” She crossed her arms over her jumpsuit.

  “I’minitforboth,” Dylan clarified.

  Claire shrugged at Massie. “Whatevs,” she said, Cam’s encouragement fueling her like a mid-morning gummy fix. She stepped onto the front lawn, her satin-covered heels immediately sinking into the grass.

  Dylan popped another fistful of espresso beans, then leapt onto the lawn. “Coming!”

  Layne grunted her approval, lumbering slowly behind Dylan. Cam and the boys followed.

  “This better be good,” Massie sighed.

  Claire led her friends though the cold, wet grass, exhilarated. Last year, Massie definitely wouldn’t have given in to her so easily. It felt like catching Massie without gloss in the morning—a rare moment of vulnerability. Or maybe the alpha was finally letting go of her Lycra ways.

  Claire was the first to reach the door. An orange plastic bowl filled with candy sat on the front steps of the dark house, and a handwritten sign was taped to the bowl.

  TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT. THEN LEAVE.

  “Done and done.” Just as Claire was about to dig into the bowl, flickering lights to her left caught her eye. In a glass-enclosed sunroom off the side of the house, a giant flat screen broadcast a larger-than-life image of Janet Leigh showering in the Bates Motel.

  “Move it or lose it, Kuh-laire.” Massie and the other trampires crowded onto the stoop.

  “It’s Psycho!” Claire said, pointing to the TV. “My all-time favorite horror—”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” High-pitched screams erupted from inside, and bright white light from the screen illuminated a group of girls and guys crammed onto a leather sofa together. Two tiny puppies were curled up in a bowl on one of the girls’ laps.

  Claire froze at the sight of three very familiar faces:

  Landon Crane. Bean Block. And Bark Obama.

  On the screen, a dark, knife-wielding figure appeared behind the white curtain. Blood swirled down the drain. But the horror on-screen was nothing compared to the scene unfolding next to Claire.

  Massie’s eyes narrowed and her fangs gleamed in the blue light. Claire’s heart plunged lower than Josh’s neckline. Landon Crane had no idea, but his Halloween scare-a-thon was about to get seriously terrifying.

  WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK

  3511 HEMMING WAY

  Friday, October 31st

  8:23 P.M.

  Massie trudged through the holly bushes separating the front door from the sunroom. The spiky leaves felt like a million knives stabbing her calves with every step. But compared to the pain in her heart, the prickly leaves might as well have been tiny puppy tongues lapping at her wounds.

  “Eh,” Alicia breathed behind her.

  “Ma,” Kristen huffed.

  “Gaaaawwwrrrrr,” Dylan managed over a mouthful of dark chocolate caramels.

  Massie felt her already deathly pale cheeks turning Q-tip white. She wanted to scream, to curl up underneath her duvet and inhale every piece of Halloween candy she could find without even bothering to calorie count. Instead, she just stared through the window, watching the scene in front of her play out like a low-budget horror flick on mute.

  Inside, Landon was sandwiched on the sofa between two blond girls who were more tanned than Massie’s leather Hype Agyness tote. Miles and Ace, Landon’s buddies who’d modeled at Massie’s Ho Ho Homeless benefit, were wedged on either side of the girls. And Scott, a.k.a. DJ Re-Quest, who’d saved the day by DJ’ing the benefit, was stretched out on the floor. Bean and Bark were snuggling in a giant bowl of candy corn.

  Massie’s throat cinched tight. She tried to swallow the betrayal rising like a lump from her stomach, but it was impossible. How could Landon cuddle with two girls who weren’t Massie on the most romantic night of the year? And in front of Bean!

  An ice-cold hand gripped Massie’s shoulder.

  “What?” she whisper-snapped. Bronze and Bronzer were snuggling even closer to Landon, the hems on their too-short minis inching up their thighs. What were they dressed up as? Desperate?

  “You okay?” Claire’s voice sounded muted over the sound of Massie’s heart drumming in her ears. “This is totally my fault.”

  “Gawd, Claire, not everything is about you,” Massie hissed without tearing her gaze from the window. Even though she did blame Claire, a little. But mostly she blamed herself for handing her heart to Landon so he could shred it like a pair of Rich and Skinny distressed boyfriend jeans.

  Just then, the brassy blonde to Landon’s right squealed at the screen, flirt-burying her orange face in Landon’s shoulder. “Maybe those girls are, like, Landon’s sisters,” Kristen whispered hopefully. The trail mix on her breath smelled like pity.

  As if sensing Massie’s despair, Bean sat up suddenly. Her nose sniffed the air and her eyes zeroed in on the window. She leapt out of the candy bowl, hurtling toward Massie. A second later, she careened into the glass-paned door with a thud.

  “Beeeeaaaan!” Massie wailed, pressing her fingers against the tiny snot smudge on the window. Bean staggered backward, shaking her head from side to side. The PC dropped to the ground behind Massie and dragged Layne down with them. On the lawn, the boys snickered.

  Startled, Landon looked up from the movie and squinted directly at Massie. Rushing over to the window, he picked up Bean and cradled her in his arms, Bark speed-circling his caramel Puma Black Labels.

  Massie? Landon mouthed silently from the other side of the glass.

  As casually as possible, Massie leaned against the window and flicked her flat-ironed locks over one shoulder, as if to say, Oh, heyyyyy. I was totally just in the neighborhood. Weird running into each other like this, right? Love the sneakers, by the way. Oh, and if you let those girls touch my puppy, I’ll show you a real-life Psycho.

  Landon motioned for Massie to go around to the front door. Then his eyes slid down to the ground, where Dylan, Alicia, Kristen, and Layne were still crouched at Massie’s feet.

  “Thinkheseesus?” Dylan muttered.

  “Thedoorisglass,” Claire murmured back.

  “Ehmagawd, would you guys get up?” Massie snapped, stomping through the prickly bushes. The holly leaves dug into her jumpsuit, as if trying to hold her back. She ignored them, hurrying along the edge of the lawn to the front door. The rest of the PC, Layne, and the boys fell in behind her.

  When she reached the front of the hous
e, Landon was standing underneath a flickering porch light in the doorway, still cradling Bean. The puppy practically flew from Landon’s arms into Massie’s the second she saw her.

  “Hua hua huarrgh,” Layne shrieked, glaring down at Bark Obama, who was humping her feather-covered leg.

  “He’s a major Star Wars fan,” Landon laughed, the skin around his bluish-green eyes crinkling in the most irresistible way. When he focused them on Massie, she dropped Bean to the brick steps and leaned against the doorframe. It was partly to look sexy but mainly to keep herself upright.

  Massie snuck a peek at Landon’s eyes. Even in the dark, they seemed to change color every few seconds. Now they looked exactly the same color as the ocean water in St. Barts. Instantly, the anger she’d felt toward Landon for ditching her on Halloween evaporated like cheap lip gloss.

  “Wanna come in? We’re just watching a movie.” Landon looked quizzically over Massie’s shoulder at her entourage, lifting his hand in a wave.

  “Sure!” Massie grinned. Immediately, she cursed herself for not acting like she might have had something better to do. Behind her, the Pretty Committee exchanged glances. Why was it that one look at Landon made her forget how to act alpha?

  “Awesome.” Landon led the group through the dark foyer and into the sunroom, where the girls, Miles, Ace, and Scott were still glued to the movie. The tiny room smelled like cheap vanilla body spray, sugar, and warm puppy. Massie’s eyes slid from the worn sisal rug to the pilled Aztec-patterned throw draped over the back of the worn leather sofa. A decorative clay urn held the door open. Had Landon seriously turned down a night of trick-or-treating with the PC to hang in a room decorated in early American tacky?

  “You guys remember Massie. And her friends,” Landon announced.

  Scott lifted his hand from the candy corn bowl to wave. “What up.” He dropped his hand back in the bowl.

  Miles and Ace nodded.

  “And that’s Brianna and Liz,” Landon said, wrapping up introductions.

  The girls glanced up briefly, then returned to the movie, ignoring Massie completely. On the flat screen, Norman Bates looked ready to go on a killing spree. Massie could sympathize.