Hours before the sun dropped behind the skyline the first sign that Lewis had called Holly’s bluff appeared on her door knob with a knock. Part of her wondered if he had somehow planned this from the start. She’d played into his hands, that much was apparent. When she innocently asked him what he was being for Halloween, Holly hadn’t known what to expect.
Of course he was going to say nothing, grown up don’t do Halloween. Men like Lewis especially don’t do Halloween.
And she had pestered him, really laid into him about it. Before it was over she had agreed to let him pick three costumes for her while she did the same for him. There were no rules or guidelines—that was her first mistake. The second was that he had until four in the afternoon to get them to her, there was no time for her to finagle her way out of the deal.
Holly glanced over to her tucked and tightened comforter that covered the bed. The three costumes stared back at her through their thin plastic wrapping. Her stomach knotted, flipped and turned. Lewis was an evil mastermind.
He was Verbal Kent.
He was fucking Iago.