Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted

  Brooke & Ben

  Before Fate Interrupted

  by

  Kaitlyn Cross

  Brooke & Ben

  Before Fate Interrupted

  Copyright © 2013 by Kaitlyn Cross

  Cover design by AMDesign Studios

  Chapter One

  They had twenty-five minutes to spare before the party began. Platters of cupcakes – decorated as skeletons, black widows, and cemetery plots – competed for table space with trays of cookies shaped like zombie fingers, ghosts, and grinning pumpkins. Candlelight flickered off the eyeball cake pops filling the space between coffin brownies and mummy dogs.

  Mandy surveyed the impressive spread with her hands on her hips, her long dark hair freshly curled and ready for action. “You have to open your own bakery someday!”

  Brooke’s stomach rumbled, reminding her of its neglect. “Yeah right.” She snatched a chicken salad sandwich - the bread molded with a pumpkin cookie cutter – and bit down.

  “No, I mean it.” Mandy’s eyes traveled from one end of the dining room table to the other. “This is so beautiful, and would’ve cost a fortune from Mrs. Randall.”

  Brooke finished the small sandwich off with another eager bite. With everything that had to be done for tonight’s party, eating had been restricted to sporadic taste testing at best.

  Mandy picked up a yellow and orange cupcake, whipped cream coiling around its top like an albino snake, her nerves actually taking a moment to stop fraying around the edges. “This looks just like candy corn.” A smile stretched into her milky cheeks. “I am telling you, you have to open your own bakery and that’s all there is to it.”

  Brooke dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a purple napkin. “I wish! That would be a dream come true.”

  “It’s your gift!”

  Brooke reached into a ceramic bowl (a green hand reaching from its center) and pulled some M&Ms from the sea of black and orange swirling inside. “I thought my sparkling personality was my gift.”

  “I’m serious, Brooke. Everyone has a responsibility to find their gift in life and share it with the world.” Mandy set the cupcake back with the others, careful not to let her red cape get in the food.

  “So your gift is managing the makeup counter at Younkers?”

  “Hey, those old bitches love me. I keep their sex life active long past sixty.”

  Brooke laughed and started choking, the image of wrinkly skin slapping against hairy moles briefly quelling her whiney stomach.

  “And don’t try changing the subject. We’re talking about you now. Do you want to work for a catering company for the rest of your life?”

  Brooke inhaled a deep breath of the Witches’ Brew candle permeating the air around them, an inferiority complex rising inside her like the dead. The pay wasn’t anything to brag about and the clients were – for the most part - nice, but she loved getting her hands dirty. Making the desserts for Randall’s Catering was her favorite part, and big parties always wanted dessert. Always.

  “It’s fine for now.” She gazed across the lavish spread, allowing herself a few seconds to indulge the notion. Owning her own bakery felt right in her gut, and her gut was never wrong. Unfortunately, her gut was just as broke as she was. “You better eat something because this stuff will probably be gone in sixty seconds.”

  Mandy released a pent-up breath and smoothed the red skirt showing off her toned legs. “I’m too nervous to eat.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, first party in a new house.” She sighed. “I just want tonight to be perfect.”

  Brooke arched an eyebrow. “Oh, my God, you’re going to sleep with Ken tonight, aren’t you?”

  Mandy cocked her head to one side, a deep frown leaving shadowy creases in her forehead. “No, I’m not. And his name is Ben, not Ken.”

  Brooke tried stifling a laugh. “Wow, you are such a whore, Mandy.”

  “If I’m a whore then what’s that make you?” Mandy looked away, her cheeks suddenly matching the shade of her hooded cape.

  Brooke pursed her lips. She had first met Mandy three years ago after landing a job at Randall’s Catering and was still in awe of Mandy’s virtuous resolve to this day. But that didn’t stop Brooke from a little teasing once in awhile. “Mandy,” she said, taking her hand. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to bite the bullet and give it up. Everyone’s doing it.”

  Mandy yanked her hand back and grabbed a large bag of condoms. “Maybe I should borrow your bulletproof bracelets.”

  Brooke watched her fill a wicker basket with the condoms that – when unrolled - would turn a man’s stiffie into a white-sheeted ghost with black dotted eyes. “In other words you’re going to wait until you’re married.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to, but I’m telling you right here and now the biggest mistake you can make is buying a car without taking it for a test-drive first. You want a smooth ride, but not too smooth.”

  Mandy bit back an impish grin and threw the empty bag away.

  Brooke furrowed her brow, making her golden headpiece go crooked. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That look just now.”

  Mandy scooped a ladle full of their homemade punch into a plastic cup. “Nothing.”

  “No, come on. Now, you have to tell me. You’ve made way too big a deal out of it.”

  “You mean you did.” She offered the cup to Brooke, who politely declined.

  “Just tell me.”

  She turned to face Brooke and for a moment the issue was in doubt. “If you must know, I gave him a hand job last night.”

  Brooke clapped a hand over her red corset and inhaled sharply. “Oh honey, that is wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes and strutted away, her cape whisking through the air behind her. “You’re such a smartass. You really are your daddy’s girl.”

  Brooke followed her into the living room, thigh-high boots clacking against the hardwood, magic lasso bouncing against her hip. “It’s all about baby steps, girl. Start out with a hand job and slowly work your way up to the wheelbarrow.”

  Mandy stopped and turned, her face wrinkling in the soft light. “The what?”

  Brooke shook her head. “Never mind, you’re not ready for that yet.”

  Mandy returned her attention to the living room where fake cobwebs ran from the ceiling fan to the olive-colored walls like hairy spider legs. A banner wishing everyone a Happy Halloween hung over a fireplace flanked by plastic tombstones and carved out pumpkins.

  Mandy’s chest deflated as a weary breath escaped her. “We should’ve gotten the balloons.”

  “It looks incredible.”

  The fireplace popped when a log settled into a new position, sending burning embers rising up the chimney.

  “You don’t think it looks cheap?”

  Brooke’s gaze roamed the modest living room, snagging on a zombie they handcrafted from a mannequin Mandy had borrowed from work. It looked scary as hell but Brooke doubted the fake blood and cracked skin would heal in time by Monday morning. “For a hundred bucks, it looks amazing.” She looked down and stuck out an Angelina Jolie leg. “Besides, with these costumes, who’s going to be paying attention to the decorations?”

  Mandy laughed, her eyes scanning the tight Wonder Woman costume accentuating Brooke’s curvy hips. “Especially the way your boobs are popping out of that corset.”

  “Oh, you’re one to talk!” Brooke stuffed her assets back inside. “Can that skirt be any shorter?”

  “Yeah well, this Little Red Riding Hood has some gym legs to show off.” Sh
e turned one foot on the tip of a black high heel. “We all have to use the gifts God gave us.”

  Brooke took Mandy’s hand and pulled her roommate’s attention back to her. “You know I was just kidding, right? Don’t do anything you’re not ready to do. You’ve held out this long, so make sure it’s right and I doubt tonight is the right night. You hardly even know this guy.”

  Mandy’s blue eyes turned soft. “I know, but this guy is sooo fucking hot. And you know me, tats aren’t my thing but this guy is…different. I really want him to be my first. It feels so right.”

  “Give it some more time, Mandy. Just to be sure.”

  Mandy stared blankly out a sliding glass door that led to the patio out back. “He could be the chosen one.”

  Brooke tilted her head. “Come on, really?”

  “My parents would disown me when they saw his sleeves of tats, but that cock!”

  Brooke’s eyelids flipped back like roller shades in her head. “What?”

  “It’s so big!”

  Brooke swallowed dryly. “Seriously?”

  Mandy pressed a finger to her lips and began pacing the living room, her red cape trailing through the air behind her. “I don’t think I could ever have sex with him. It would hurt too much.”

  “Ooh, I want details,” Brooke said, resting her hands on her hips and looking every part the super hero.

  Mandy stopped wearing out the floor. “Brooke, you should have seen my face when I pulled it out of his jeans. I about had a heart attack.” She paused to tighten her gaze. “Are all penises that big?”

  Brooke shook her head like someone had just rung her bell. “Wait a minute, just how big are we talking here?”

  “Big like fire hose big. But with tats on it.”

  A sharp breath stormed Brooke’s lungs, making a high-pitched squeal and puffing out her already puffy chest. “Shut! Up!”

  “I’m dead serious. It’s the craziest damn thing I’ve ever seen. A tattooed peter!”

  Brooke looked around the room at a complete loss for words, a rarity in her world. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “Because I had to focus on getting this party straight or else I was going to be sitting around thinking about the anaconda hiding in his pants.” She met Brooke’s stunned eyes. Her face turned grave. “This thing could eat small pets.”

  Brooke set a hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath. “Maybe you need an invisible fence.”

  “Plus, I just kind of want to get it over with, you know what I mean?”

  Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Get it over with? Sweetie, there’s no rush. Trust me.”

  Mandy laughed sharply. “Easy for you to say! I’ll be twenty-four in January.”

  “Mandy, this isn’t Little House on the Prairie. People don’t get married and have kids right out of high school anymore, or even college. You don’t have to feel that kind of traditional pressure.”

  Mandy took a deep breath and released it, her gaze returning to the Party City decorations. “Well, I guess this place is about as good as it’s going to get.” She checked a large wall clock hanging above the couch and headed back into the dining room. “I almost forgot!” She took a marble sized rock from a small bag, dropped it into the punch bowl and stepped back. They watched smoky trails creep from the spiked brew and ooze over the glass rim like ghostly tentacles on a moonlit night.

  “That is so cool.”

  “And the best part,” Mandy started, scooping a ladleful into a plastic cup and knocking it back, “is the dry ice doesn’t alter the taste.”

  “You better be careful, girl, or you’re going to pass out before anyone even gets here.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You haven’t eaten all day.”

  “I had some grapes.” She scooped out another cup.

  “You better eat something while you’ve got the chance because I’m not holding your hair while you throw up Spiderlicious punch all night long. I know how you get.”

  A loud knock at the front door made both of them scream in unison. There was a brief pause before the hammering grew louder, more urgent, unwilling to let them collect their breath.

  “Hang on!” Mandy dropped the ladle back into the fog and clicked her heels across the floor.

  The banging continued, uninspired by Mandy’s reassurance, rattling the skeleton’s bones dangling from the arched front door. She grabbed the glass doorknob and whipped the door back with Brooke peering over her shoulder. Their jaws hit the floor at roughly the same time.

  “They’re all dead,” the girl whispered coldly. Her teeth chattered in the pale orange porch light. A jagged rip ran across her blood spattered tank top, exposing the soiled bra beneath. Tears carved dark paths down her cheeks, mixing with the grime and blood smeared across her twisted face. She held out her hands, bound at the wrists by a thick rope caked in grease and dirt. “Please.” Her pleading eyes flickered from Mandy to Brooke. “Untie me.” She looked over her shoulder into the night. “Before he comes back.”

  Mandy yanked the girl inside by the rope, slammed the door shut and locked it.

  “Jesus Christ, Tasha!” Brooke stepped back for a better look, heart jack-hammering in her chest. “What happened?”

  Tasha snapped her watery gaze back to the front door like she had just heard something out on the front porch. “Some sick fuck broke into my apartment.” She burst into tears and buried her face in her filthy hands.

  “What?” Brooke and Mandy cried in unison.

  She looked up, fear swimming in her eyes, red scratches running the length of one cheek. Tasha shook her head vehemently. Leaves fell from her long hair, now matted with what looked like blood or oil, taking dirty blond to a whole new level. “He killed the old couple across the hall and tied me up. Took me to some garage or basement. I’m not sure.”

  “Oh my God,” Mandy said faintly, going to work on Tasha’s binds with shaky hands.

  Brooke blinked back to reality as the cell phone on her dresser popped into her mind. “I’m calling the police.” Her red boots beat a heated path to the bedroom she rented from Mandy for three hundred and seventy-five dollars a month.

  Tasha screamed so loud Brooke tripped over her own feet and stumbled. She caught herself against the hallway wall and whirled to see Tasha bending over and howling with laughter.

  “What the hell?” Mandy took a few steps back like Tasha might be infected with some kind of contagious virus.

  Tasha straightened up and flipped her tangled hair back, pointing at them with a grimy finger. “You should’ve seen the looks on your faces!”

  “What is wrong with you?” Brooke stomped back over, face pinched with anger.

  Mandy pressed her lips together until they turned white. “God, Tash, you scared the shit out of me!”

  “That’s the point, Mandy. It’s Halloween. Remember?”

  Brooke traded an uneasy look with Mandy before taking a closer look at Tasha’s getup. “I thought we all agreed on sexy costumes this year.”

  Tasha’s smile dissolved. “You can see my bra, Brooke. Hello?”

  “What are you supposed to be?”

  Irritation settled into the corners of Tasha’s bloodshot eyes. “I’m a scream queen.”

  They stared blankly at her in the dumbfounded silence that followed.

  Tasha raised her brow. “Ya know, the hot damsel-in-distress who always gets tied up and tortured in slasher flicks.”

  Their expressions remained unchanged.

  “Sexy and seductive but attainable to the average guy.”

  Mandy and Brooke stared at her with matching looks on their faces.

  Tasha let out a defeated breath. “No?”

  “No,” Mandy said, pointing at Tasha’s costume. “And that is not sexy. It’s gross.”

  “You’re gross.”

  Brooke laughed. She had known Tasha since the third grade and the girl still managed to surprise Brooke at every turn along the way. “Hey Mandy, tel
l Tasha about your new boyfriend.”

  This time Tasha was the one to look surprised. “What boyfriend?”

  Mandy clasped her hands together and held them to her chest. “I am so excited for you guys to meet him tonight! He is such a sweetheart.”

  “Since when have you had a boyfriend?”

  Mandy shrugged. “Not long.”

  “No, I mean tell Tasha about his...”

  “Punch anyone?” Mandy asked, cutting Brooke off with a heated glower and heading back into the dining room.

  “Oh my God,” Tasha muttered, following close behind, hands bound before her. “Does he have a Chiquita dick?”

  “No, he doesn’t have a Chiquita dick.” Mandy scooped some fog into a plastic cup and handed it to Tasha.

  “It’s a fire hose with tats.”

  Tasha took the cup with both hands, her dubious gaze bouncing from Brooke to Mandy. “No way.”

  The hint of a devilish grin pulled on Mandy’s shiny lips that were just as red as the rest of her. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  Tasha reeled her jaw back in. “Tattoos of what?”

  Mandy passed a cup of swirling vapor to Brooke and poured herself another round. “I’m not sure; I didn’t get the best look. But I know I saw something green.”

  Tasha frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Maybe he’s a porn star,” Brooke said. “I once saw a guy who bedazzled his entire shaft.”

  Tasha and Mandy screwed up their faces.

  Brooke nodded and tipped the cup back, sending smoky streams trickling down her cheeks.

  Tasha shook her head to clear it. “Wait, you already had sex with this guy?”

  “No, I didn’t have sex with him.”

  Brooke coughed into her fist. “Hand job.”

  Tasha’s eyes widened. “I don’t believe it! You don’t start giving out hand jobs until the seventh date.”

  “Eighth,” Brooke corrected out the corner of her mouth.

  Mandy shrugged. “What can I say? He’s a keeper. And I think he feels the same way about me.” She smiled, staring off through faraway eyes. “Least I hope he does.”

  “Awww,” Brooke cooed softly. “I’ve never heard you talk like this about a guy before.”