Chapter 18
I wonder, what exactly does Michelle mean by that? José paused and appeared to be puzzled as he turned off the Pinto’s engine.
Does Michelle have something planned I should be wary of? he mentally asked while starting for the passenger-side door. Or am I just letting my beliefs about her raise an unwarranted red flag? After all, there is a possibility she actually believes the party’s going to be so good, I’ll never forget it.
Michelle’s car door squeaked as it was being opened, and she turned to face him with a warm “I’ve-finally-got-you” type of smile.
“Do you really think the party’s going to be that good?” José asked in a raised voice, hoping he’d be heard over the music coming through the windows at a volume that most likely could be heard three blocks away.
“At least for me, it should be,” she said, romantically wrapping her arms around him the instant she rose to her feet. “And I’m sure it’ll be for you too. Trust me.”
José’s heart skipped a beat, and within the brief moment of his involuntarily hesitation, Michelle’s luscious moon-drop-red lips instantly slid closer and began to passionately press against his.
Wow! Have I just become the proverbial fly who’s hopelessly trapped inside the spider’s web?
José’s brain screamed a profound “NO." However, deep inside the slender eighteen-year-old’s chest, his rhythmically beating heart had already kicked itself into overdrive.
The instant José and Michelle approached Caleb’s front door, a minuscule red light embedded above its wooden frame briefly flickered, and an ultraviolet three-dimensional ghostly figure soon appeared, floating about a foot above the ground.
“Welcome,” it said, in a deep, resounding voice. “Master Caleb has been expecting you.”
José’s eyes rapidly widened. He has?
Michelle turned in José’s direction and distinctly displayed a frightened look. However, before she could speak even a single word - the apparition suddenly vanished and Caleb’s front door magically began to open itself - releasing an unmistakable prolong haunted creak.
“Step this way,” a six-foot skeleton staring in their direction beckoned. His humerus unleashed a distinct crackle as it pressed against the left shoulder’s radius and ulna when it extended its arm and pointed inside.
Repeating flashing strobes substantially interfered with his view, but as José continually tried to focus on the contents inside the smoke-filled room, a shadowy image of a band playing something that sounded something similar to Iron Butterfly’s ‘In A Gadda Da Vida’ momentarily came into view when a group of costumed guests ambled by.
Upon noticing their pace, he could not help but wonder if the teens simply had too much to drink or was there a possibility they perhaps were stoned. It was difficult, if not impossible, to tell which.
A sickly sweet aroma seemed to come and go like passing waves of an approaching cold front, and each person appeared to be holding a plastic red cup which one could easily deduce wasn’t filled with your everyday store bought carbonated soda.
“Welcome to my party, Michelle,” an early to mid-twenty-something youth wearing a vampire wolf’s mask said when the two of them moved toward the center of the room. “This must be José, the boy you previously mentioned.”
Michelle smiled in reply. However, José only glanced at the obvious familiarity shared between them, and his lips transformed into a small frown - before talking the stranger’s outstretched hand and giving it a cold, but polite shake.
Alfredo displayed a mischievous grin in return. No doubt, there was something rather important he was trying to conceal.
“If you like psychedelic rock with a bit of a Latin beat, alternated with some slow stuff thrown in so you can dance if you like; you'll probably enjoy tonight’s tunes,” he said, while gesturing toward the band. As far as refreshment as concerned, “Punch, rum and coke, and a few other various drinks are available on the table next to the coffin. … Any and all munchies available are located in the kitchen.”
José gazed in the direction where Alfredo was pointing.
“And what about the ….?” Michelle asked, deliberately omitting the last word.
Alfredo hesitated before providing her with an answer, even though he unmistakably understood the incomplete question.
“Didn’t Pepe tell you, this party’s a clearly B.Y.O.B.?”
“B.Y.O.B.?” José definitely looked puzzled. “Bring your own beer?”
Alfredo looked at newbie and released a chuckle. “No, my friend,” he answered, lightly wrapping a arm across José’s shoulder. “We’ve got far more than enough beer on hand for everyone to get bombed tonight. … B.Y.O.B. in this particular case, means ‘Bring your own bag.’”
José gazed at Alfredo as his cheeks involuntarily blushed a shade of crimson.
Oh my gawd! … It looks like Michelle was totally right. This party might become one that I may never ever forget.