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Mischief by Tiffany Reisz (8)

Chapter Eight

Nora screamed and Nico spun around so fast his boots sent gravel flying everywhere.

“Oh, oh...sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman apologizing was about Nico’s age, wearing an off-the-rack sexy witch costume that showed ample bare flesh. The tip of the pointed hat on her head was rakishly tilted to one side, and she was holding onto her broom with both hands.

“You’re dressed as a witch and you’re in a cemetery at night sneaking up on people,” Nora said, still panting. “Are you sure you didn’t mean to scare us?”

The girl cringed, winced, and squirmed in her shoes all at once.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she said in a small voice. “I was just cutting through the cemetery. It’s on my way home from work.”

“Where do you work?” Nora asked. “A nightmare factory?”

“Two Keys Tavern, down the dock,” she said. “I’m a bartender. We all dress in costumes during October. This was about the last outfit left at the costume shop. It was either slutty witch or slutty nurse. Or slutty nun, which I didn’t know was a thing.”

“It’s a thing,” Nora said.

The woman had a light Boston accent so that “dock” sounded like “dahck” and “bartender” came out “bahr-tendah.”

“There’s always next Halloween,” the slutty witch said. “I’m Justine, by the way. Sorry again for scaring you.”

“Justine?” Nora said. “Like the Marquis de Sade novel?”

“No…Like Justine Bateman from the TV show Family Ties,” the girl said, narrowing her eyes at Nora. “But now we know something about you we didn’t know before.”

“I knew,” Nico said. The girl, Justine, laughed. It was good laugh. Good laugh for a cute girl. Very cute. She had laughing eyes and a sweet face and hair the color of apple cider. And the slutty witch outfit was definitely working for her.

“I’m Nora, by the way. This is my Nico.”

“Nice to meet you, Justine,” Nico said, shaking her hand.

“Ah, good accent. Is that...Italian?” Justine asked.

“French,” he said.

“Better accent than mine,” Justine said, grinning. “So I guess that answers my question. You two aren’t from around here?”

“New Orleans,” Nora said. “And a vineyard in the south of France. Just here for Halloween. We were ghost-hunting the Smiling Girl.”

“Waste of time,” Justine said. “I’ve been in this graveyard a million times. Never seen her. And I know every dead person in this place. Hey, can I give you a cemetery tour? I owe you after scaring the shit out of you both.”

Nico nodded. “Sure,” Nora said, incapable of saying no to cute girls dressed as slutty witches. “Lead the way.”

With her broom, Justine pointed down the path. “Follow me...into hell,” she said in a dramatic voice.

Justine started off, and Nora and Nico fell in step right behind her.

“Welcome to St. Patrick’s Cemetery,” she intoned in a bland tour guide voice. “Established in 1796 at the edge of town in response to a cholera outbreak. We had more bodies than holes to put them in. Oh yes, people were puking and shitting themselves to death back then. Do you ever wish time travel were real? Well, don’t. Nobody but fucking idiots would go back in time.”

“Is this part of the official cemetery tour?” Nico asked Justine.

“I’m a little off the script,” Justine said. “Carrying on.” She pointed with her broom at a large headstone on her right. “Here lies General Robert McMahon of Revolutionary War fame. Hero. Legend. Total asshole.”

“You think so?” Nico asked.

“Well yeah, his wife is buried on the other side of the cemetery, and she died after him, so...you put two and two together, you get an asshole.”

“Those numbers add up for me,” Nora said.

“And over here,” Justine said, doing a little twirl wherein she tossed her broom in an arc to point at another grave, “lies Elizabeth Dunne, famous for maybe having boinked Nathanial Hawthorne.”

“She boinked Nathanial Hawthorne?” Nora asked.

“What’s boinking?” Nico asked.

“What we were doing half an hour ago,” Nora said.

“Ah,” Nico replied. “Boinking.”

Nora loved teaching him English slang.

“According to local legend,” Justine said, still employing her tour guide voice, “she owned an inn he frequented, and she was reputed to be very attractive. And something of an ass freak.”

“He got a piece of her scarlet A,” Nora said.

“A whole lot of scarlet A,” Justine said, nodding. “But no judgment here. I’ve been known to enjoy a little scarlet A myself every now and then.”

Nora started after to follow her but Nico stopped her with a hand on Nora’s arm.

“I like her,” Nico said, soto vocce.

Nora pitched his cheeks. “I’m so proud of my boy.”

“You two coming?” Justine asked. “So many assholes, so little time.”

“Story of my life,” Nora said.

The impromptu tour lasted another twenty minutes. It wasn’t a very big cemetery, though according to Justine, it had more than its fair share of assholes and ass freaks.

“And that concludes our stroll through St. Patrick’s,” Justine said with a little curtsey.

Nora and Nico golf-clapped.

“Thank you,” Nora said. “You were a fabulous tour guide. I’m glad to know that so many early settlers were...what did you call them?”

“The Salem Bitches,” Justine said.

“Right,” Nora said.

“So, yeah, really sorry about scaring the bejesus out of you two earlier,” Justine said, smiling impishly.

“Are you?” Nora asked.

“Hmm…I admit I kind of did it on purpose. Hate all the fucking tourists we have to deal with in October, but if I’d known you two were so adorable, I might not have done it,” Justine said.

“We are pretty adorable,” Nora said. “Want to go get a drink somewhere? I’m buying.”

Justine grinned broadly but the smile faded when she glanced down at her phone.

“Ah, shit. I’d love to, but I gotta get home. I’m working the morning shift.”

“At a bar?” Nora asked. “This is a rough town.”

Justine smiled. “Taking my grandma to her hair appointment. Why do old people get up so early? And really, she’s ninety. Who’s she trying to impress?”

“Nico,” Nora said, causing him to smack her on the ass again.

Justine raised an eyebrow.

“She teases me because I like older women,” Nico explained.

“I’ve got eleven years on him,” Nora said.

“Now I’m kind of sad I’m only twenty-eight,” Justine said, a twinkle in her eyes. Nico brought out that twinkle in a lot of ladies.

“That’s two years older than me,” Nico said, wearing a sly smile to match her twinkle. “It counts.”

“Is he flirting with me?” Justine asked Nora.

“If he knows what’s good for him, he is,” Nora said.

Justine pointed her broom at them. “I like you two. You’re good people.”

“We’re going to a costume party tomorrow night at the Highbury. You want to be our date?”

“That sounds amazing. But...I wouldn’t be a third wheel?” Justine asked. She looked eager but nervous. She’d probably never gone on a date with a couple before.

“If you’re a tricycle, you need a third wheel,” Nora said. “We’d love to hang out with you more.”

“You twisted my arm,” Justine said. “I’m in.”

They exchanged numbers. Nora hugged Justine, and Nico kissed both her cheeks goodnight. Justine took great delight in having a Frenchman kiss her in the classic bise-bise French style.

Nora and Nico watched Justine stroll off to her apartment. Just before she disappeared out of sight, she turned and blew them both a kiss.

“I told you it wouldn’t be hard,” Nora said.

Nico slowly shook his head in wonder and said one word:

Rembrandt.”