I'll Be Home for Halloween

By Elizabeth Myles

When Clea was fifteen, she dated a pop star. Not because she was a star herself, but because her family signed on to appear on reality television with a famous boy band. For most of her sophomore year, one of the boys, seventeen-year-old London Lange, lived in Clea’s attic. The handsome and charming pop singer ate meals with her, rode to school with her, and eventually pretended to be her boyfriend in front of the cameras. As awkward as all of that could be at times, it was nothing compared to the most horrible thing London did while he was in town. He stole—and then broke—Clea’s heart.

Now Clea is twenty-two, and she’s done her best to move on from the past and from the show. She’s keeping a low profile, focusing on her budding career as a journalist, and, for the most part, doing fine. She still thinks about London. A lot. But she hopes someday she’ll learn how to let him go because chances are, she’ll never see him again.

Or will she?

During one special, supposedly enchanted, Halloween weekend, Clea gets her secret wish and runs into London on the street. He looks almost the same, and yet no one else seems to recognize him. While his anonymity bewilders Clea, she has more pressing concerns at the moment, like getting to the bottom of why London is back in Hillingham Hollow all of a sudden, and what happened when he took off years ago. Why did he lie and break his promises to her? Why did he crush her heart? And while a part of Clea is afraid to ask, she can’t help also wondering...after everything that’s gone on between the two of them, can they ever have a relationship again? A real one this time? Does London even want one?

The avalanche of questions twists Clea’s mind and heart into knots, all the more so when she begins to suspect the answers might involve something...well, not quite of this world. Something supernatural...

Content advisory for Book 4: I’ll Be Home for Halloween: sexual references, sensual kissing

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Myles
• Release date: Aug 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005439057

Elizabeth Myles

Elizabeth Myles enjoys reading and writing lighthearted romance. Her favorite stories feature sweet heroines and noble heroes. She is a graduate of Lone Star College-Tomball and the University of Houston. Her prize-winning short fiction appeared several times in Inkling: The Creative Arts Magazine of LSC-Tomball, and her novel, Fear and Laundry, received a notable entry honor in the teen category of Shelf Unbound Magazine's Writing Competition for Best Independently Published Book. Shelf Unbound subsequently included Fear and Laundry in a special contest issue spotlighting the work of “some of today’s best indie authors.”Elizabeth’s other works include the paranormal romantic comedy series The Sharpest Kiss and the contemporary/paranormal series Halloween Hearts.Elizabeth and her handsome husband, Steve, live and run together in Texas. When she is not writing, Elizabeth can be found reading, cooking, or baking, often while listening to Nine Inch Nails and other rock music. She enjoys watching sci-fi and horror movies, and her favorite television shows are Supernatural and The X-Files. Connect with her at elizabethmyles.com, and for alerts about new releases, please sign up for her mailing list here: https://elizabethmyles.com/mailing-list/

Book preview

I’ll Be Home for Halloween copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Myles

Cover and other images by Steven Myles using photos from Unsplash and Pixabay. Big Set of Dividers by starline on Freepik.

The cover image of this novel is used strictly for literary and illustrative purposes, and any models depicted in the cover image bear no relationship whatsoever to this work of fiction or to any of the characters or events depicted herein.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book or any part thereof by any means whatsoever, without written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

HOLLOW HAPPENINGS

From Hollow Happenings, the community newsletter of Hillingham Hollow, Texas

A ‘Joy’-ous Occasion in Hillingham Hollow: Former Hillingham High homecoming queen to wed celebrated doom-and-gloom rock musician in what many are dubbing a ‘marriage of light and darkness.’

By Lenore Shelley (@lshelleyhh, [e-mail])

Local entrepreneur, multi-industrialist, and noted philanthropist, Alistair Banes Alejandro III, held a press conference with his family in attendance on Monday to announce the engagement of his daughter, Autumn Joy Alejandro, age 20, to Corvin Covarrubias, age 28.

Ms. Alejandro, known as Joy, graduated from Hillingham High School in 20-- and will be familiar to Hollow residents not only as that school’s homecoming queen, but also as Hillingham Hollow’s own Harvest Festival Pumpkin Princess, and Miss Kettle Corn Celebration (a.k.a. Kettle Corn Queen) two years running.

Six months ago, Ms. Alejandro made global headlines when her relationship with internationally renowned model/actor/singer, Covarrubias (stage name, Vlad Harker) became public. The couple reportedly met while Ms. Alejandro, a film student at UT Austin, and Mr. Covarrubias, lately the lead singer of gothic rock band, Cold Glass Coffin, filmed a short segment together in the upcoming major motion picture Re-Vamp! The film, directed by up-and-comer Scout Remington, is a musical mash-up of the classic novella, Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and the long-running horror comic book series, Ace Van Helsing vs. The Fiends of Professor Nosferus.

Alejandro III confirmed Monday that his daughter will marry Covarrubias in Hillingham Hollow, and that a three-day festival, featuring a volunteer-run charity carnival and a trio of rock concerts, will mark the occasion of the wedding, taking place in Hillingham Park on Sunday, October 27th, 20--. All events, with the exception of the final concert by multi-award-winning rock group (and personal friends of Covarrubias, the band’s former lead guitarist), How to Make a Wolf Howl, will be free and open to the public.

How to Make a Wolf Howl, who have been on an indefinite hiatus since the release of their Greatest Hits collection in 20--, will play live for the first time in nearly four years on Sunday, October 27th, 20-- at the Vintage Meadow Civic Center. More than five thousand tickets to the show, made available online directly following Alejandro’s press conference, sold out in a reported nine minutes and twenty-two seconds. However, wristband passes, hand-delivered exclusively via horse-drawn carriage alongside Ms. Alejandro and Mr. Covarrubias’ wedding invitations this week, will allow an additional ~600 personal guests (every member of Ms. Alejandro’s high school graduating class, plus one guest each) entry to the event.

**Carnival organizers seek dozens of volunteers to build and run booths for a variety of local charities; please see sidebar for information on where and how to apply. See next page for concert schedule.**

flyer_20220522wedding_invitationmap_20220524

PROLOGUE

Hillingham Hollow, a suburb of Houston, Texas

Halloween night, seven years ago

"YOU ARE SO lucky, Clea, Lina McCurdy sighed, fanning herself. I wish my parents would hire a hot, famous guy to be my boyfriend for a year." Lina’s face was tinted light orange, and she had black triangles penciled around her eyes and nose. A jack-o-lantern grin outlined her lips, and she was wearing a bright orange mini dress, orange tights, black flats, and a green beret. She was staring across the room as she spoke, her dark eyes shining with envy as they took in my date for the evening.

It was sophomore year, and Lina and I were hanging out near the refreshment table at Jackie Messer’s annual Halloween costume party. Lina was here with her latest admirer, a guy names Grady, and I was here with a tall drink of water named London Lange. London was seventeen and a senior, and he was a member of a pop music group called Five with a Beat.

If that situation seems surreal and artificial to you, that’s because it was. I should have never even met London, much less dated him. As Lina had pointed out, he was hot and famous, and I was…

Well, I was nothing and nobody. Not an actress, not a singer, not any type of celebrity. Just someone whose parents had made the questionable decision to let cameras follow me around for ten months.

As of the beginning of the school year, I was on Five in the ’Burbs, a reality show featuring London and his other boy band members living in my hometown, Hillingham Hollow, trying to deal with everyday life in the suburbs—to supposedly hilarious effect.

Being on this show had not been my choice. Something of which I had already reminded Lina many times.

I shot my friend a bored look and said, Lina. How many times do I have to tell you? My parents did not hire London to be my boyfriend. All they did was sign up our family to be on his group’s stupid reality show for the school year.

Lina snorted. "I know. I’ve always thought your parents were dull, but that is, like, the coolest thing EV-er. Why couldn’t my parents have done something like that for me?!"

I twisted my lips into a skeptical grimace. I don’t know how cool it is. Being followed around by strangers and filmed all the time. And for what? I’d never even heard of Five with a Beat until my parents mentioned them to me.

Lina rolled her eyes. How could you not have heard of them? They’re from right here in Texas, and they’ve had three top ten singles.

Two, I said. "They’ve had two top ten singles." And both songs had come from the debut album, not the current sophomore effort. London had admitted to me that the group’s latest release wasn’t performing as well as the record label had hoped it would. The reality show was an attempt to boost the band’s profile, but since it was airing on a lesser-known streaming service, who knew how many people would actually watch it? For my own sake, I hoped it wouldn’t be too many. I knew there was no stopping the residents of Hillingham Hollow from obsessing over it, though. Lina was a perfect example. Lately, the show—and London—were all she wanted to talk about with me.

Who cares? she asked me now. I still don’t see how you couldn’t be familiar with them. I opened my mouth, but she held up her hand to cut me off. "No, I know, I know. They’re not your kind of music. Which only makes it worse. You’re, like, the ONE girl in Hillingham Hollow who doesn’t appreciate starring on a TV show with these guys. Talk about irony."

I’m hardly starring on the show.

You’re on every week, thanks to London living with you. She looked away from me again, fixing her focus on the subject of our discussion, her eyes narrowing as she looked London up and down. I was surprised he didn’t feel Lina’s hungry gaze biting into him from a distance, but if he did, he gave no sign. He kept his attention on the group of kids surrounding him—other students from Hillingham High, where London was attending with me for the rest of the school year. And where he had, of course, already racked up about a million friends. Not hard to do, I guessed, when you were hot and famous.

I chewed my lip, knowing Lina was right. The Beat guys ranged in age from seventeen to twenty-one, and the older ones all lived in a house together. Since the show had been filming, they’d been working part-time jobs sacking groceries, stocking books, and even flipping burgers. The producers had been mining the guys’ interactions with the townsfolk for laughs. Dozens of people from Hillingham Hollow had the chance to be on the show in some capacity each week. Yours truly, however, was featured on every episode, thanks to my family hosting London Lange in our spare attic bedroom.

He only lives with me because he’s the youngest member of the group, I said to Lina. He’s still a minor, and he needs to finish high school. The producers thought it would be better—more family-friendly—if he lived with a set of house parents while he went to Hillingham High.

Yeah. Lina’s mouth crimped in a sardonic smile. "And the fact that he lives in your attic means you get to see him every day. Spend all that time with him. None of the rest of us girls at school could compete with that. No wonder you hooked him so fast."

I winced. "I did not hook him. We’re not dating. We’re just friends."

"Don’t give me that. You think no one’s noticed how the two of you have started holding hands this week? And don’t try to tell me you don’t like it, either. You may not have been a fan when he first came to town, but I’ve seen the look on your face when the two of you are together. You like him just as much as the rest of us do. Only, like I said, you have an unfair advantage with him."

I worked my mouth, not sure what to say to that. Because I couldn’t deny it. London had been holding my hand this week, and paying me more attention. There was a reason he was doing so, but I couldn’t tell Lina what it was. My parents had signed an agreement saying our family would keep everything about the series a secret while we were filming it.

And I couldn’t deny the other thing Lina had said, either, about liking London. Of course I liked him. How could I not? Maybe I had been unimpressed when I first learned a pop star was coming to live with my family (Lina was right; it wasn’t my kind of music—not nearly enough pounding drums, ear-splitting guitars, or screaming vocals for my taste), but within minutes of meeting him, I’d understood why London was a teen idol. He was tall and blond, the cutest boy I had ever laid eyes on, and his homespun charm was irresistible. Like Lina had pointed out, he was from Texas like us, born and raised in a tiny town called Slaton, and despite how famous he had quickly become, he had remained wide-eyed and humble about it. He had a winsome accent, a touch of bratty rakishness to his otherwise mannerly personality, and he could smile at you in a way that made your clothes feel as if they were disintegrating and sliding to the floor around your ankles.

In other words, I had been doomed from the start.

Lina shot a sharp glance at me, challenging, and I finally blurted, It just happened, okay? I’d thought London was going to live in the attic and ride to school with me in the mornings and that was it. I never would have expected—

I wouldn’t have expected to fall for him.

Only, I did not want to say that, so I pinched my mouth closed to keep the embarrassing admission locked up inside my head, where it belonged. Not that it mattered, anyway, because Lina had stopped listening to me. She had swiveled her head to gape at London again, and this time he seemed to feel the weight of her stare. He turned to look at her. Lina’s lips curled in a smile, and she waved. London lifted a hand in return. He glanced at his companions, excused himself, and made his way to Lina and me.

Oh, here he comes, she hissed under her breath, as if I couldn’t see for myself that he was heading our way. She fluffed her hair and straightened her dress. Do me a favor, Clea? Don’t be greedy, okay?

I arched my eyebrows. "Greedy?"

Yeah. Like I said, you get to spend all sorts of time with London. Way more than anybody else does. When he gets here, give me five minutes to talk to him, would you? Just five measly minutes.

What I gave her was an incredulous frown. London can talk to whomever he pleases, Lina. For however long he wants. Not like I have anything to say about it.

She didn’t answer me, and the next second, London had reached us. Lina jumped in front of me.

London! His name erupted from her on an excited huff. "How’s it going? How are you liking the party? You look so good in that suit. All you guys do. It’s so funny that y’all decided to dress up like the Beatles." She reached out to stroke his tie. A string of giggles tittered out of her, and she blushed under her face paint, which turned her skin closer to the color of a tangerine than a pumpkin. Beside her, I cringed in secondhand embarrassment.

London didn’t seem to notice. Probably because he was used to girls treating him this way. To him, this level of exaggerated gushing was normal, probably even mild. He gave Lina a slight nod, straightened his tie, and said, Party’s great. And thanks for the compliment. But you know there are only four Beatles, right? That’s why Mikey had to come dressed as Buddy Holly.

Lina lowered her eyebrows and blinked. Who?

London’s smile crumpled. Oh, nobody, he said. Just one of the most influential pioneers of early rock n’ roll. Basically the inventor of the modern rock band. And that was all. He didn’t compliment her on her costume in return, or try to encourage the conversation with her. He stepped past her and turned his attention to me. Hey, how are you doing, Clea? I’m sorry I got waylaid and left you on your own for so long.

I felt my mouth slant up on one side. Not a problem. I can handle myself. And anyway, you can’t help it that you’re so popular and everyone wants a word with Your Highness. Did everybody get a chance to kiss your ring?

He shook his head. They were mostly talking about sports. I didn’t even know what to say. I’ve been trying to wrap up that conversation and get back here to you for at least half an hour. He paused, a merry twinkle lighting his irises. You know, you could have come over and rescued me anytime.

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Rescued you? Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in distress, damsel."

He stepped closer to me, turning so that most of his back was to Lina, and gazed down at me. Seriously? You didn’t notice the desperate signals I was trying to send you with my eyes?

What signals?

"These signals. He cocked his head and intensified his stare, widening his eyes in a silent plea. You didn’t see me making that face over and over again?"

Oh, that, I said. "Yeah, I saw it. I thought maybe the ceviche had sat out on the buffet too long. Given you food poisoning. I thought that was your ‘My stomach is killing me—where’s the nearest bathroom?’ look. Figured one of the guys would tell you, sooner or later."

Behind London, Lina’s eyes bulged, and she turned tangerine-orange again. She made a choked noise, as if she couldn’t believe I would say such a crude thing to someone as handsome as London. But that was only because she didn’t understand my dynamic with him. I might have had a crush on London, but that still didn’t make me one of his fainting fans. I honestly had never heard of him before we had met eight weeks ago, and his fame meant nothing to me. So, basically, I treated him the only way I knew how, the way I did my older brother—with affectionate derision. And he seemed to love it.

Case in point, London threw back his head in a laugh. No, my gut’s fine, he said, and patted his flat stomach. "Thankfully. That was my ‘Clea, I’m drowning over here, please feel free to interrupt and get me out of here pronto’ face. Just for future reference."

Ah, I nodded. Okay. Got it. So…I take it you’re ready to leave, then?

He nodded, too, with emphasis. I already said goodbye to Jackie. How about you?

No. I almost laughed. But I doubt she’ll care. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. Jackie and I had never been friends. London was the one she had wanted to invite to her party. She knew if he attended, she would get stuck welcoming me, too, as his companion, but it was worth it to her because he would also bring along the rest of the Five and the camera crew. Speaking of which…the other band members had left almost an hour ago, but the camera guys were loitering in the corner. They had ignored me while I was talking to Lina, because London wasn’t around, but now they were filming us. I was impressed with how unobtrusive they could be. You know how people on reality shows say that eventually you forget that the cameras are even there? Well, it’s true. I’d had most of my days filmed for the past two months, and I rarely thought about the cameras anymore. No one else seemed to pay attention to them, either. If I thought about it too hard, I realized how strange—and likely unhealthy—that was.

We can say goodbye to Lina, though, I said, and I craned my neck to peek around London’s shoulder at Lina, who was still standing there, wringing her hands and staring at the back of his head with longing.

Oh, right, he said, and angled himself to face her again. He waved and said, See ya, Lina. Hope you have a good night.

’Night, London. She gave him a weak smile. Then she flicked her gaze to me and added, "’Night, Clea. Thanks for the five minutes."

I shrugged and waved as London took my hand and tugged me toward the Messers’ front door. I was sorry Lina hadn’t gotten to talk to London the way she had wanted to, but it wasn’t my fault. Like I had said, he was his own man, free to talk to whomever he chose. I couldn’t help it if he had chosen me. Besides, I knew he was only playing it up for the cameras. As of this week, he and I were supposed to be falling for each other. The producers had decreed it, and so it was happening. It was all just a put-on, but you would never guess it from London’s behavior. Like every other performance in his life, he took his role as my fake suitor seriously, and he was trying his best to make a good show of it.

Outside, London held open the front gate for me, and we started down the sidewalk together. He didn’t let go of my hand. I took note of how warm and powerful his grip was, and of the slight roughness of his fingertips. He was the only boy whose hand I had ever held, and while we had been touching like this for over a week now, I still wasn’t used to it. The novelty sent sparks of excitement crackling through me.

We took a right at the end of the block, heading in the direction of my parents’ house, and I shivered, knowing the night wouldn’t end when we got there. We were heading toward another novel experience for me, something even more electrifying—and if I was being honest, emotionally risky—than holding hands. Something that, now that I let myself think about it, was making my knees wobble.

Hey, it’s going to be alright. London’s voice was so low I barely heard him. I was certain the microphones hadn’t picked it up.

I glanced up into his cool blue eyes, and he offered a sweet smile and pumped my hand once. He was trying to comfort me, I knew, and to ease my nerves, but he was only ratcheting up the anticipation. I gave him a tiny nod to let him know I had heard him and that I appreciated what he was trying to do.

The neighborhood was quiet and still, the hours for trick-or-treating long over. The moon smiled down on us from behind wispy clouds, silvering the pumpkins, plastic skeletons, and fake tombstones decorating some of the yards we passed.

London spoke again, and this time his voice was louder, signaling his comments were meant for the cameras’ benefit. So. Clea. How’d you like the party?

I shrugged. It was alright.

Thanks for coming with me. I know it’s not your sort of thing.

Eh, this one wasn’t too bad, as far as parties go. Except…

Except?

Well, I don’t think most people understood my costume.

He glanced at my clothes: the sky-blue dress my mother had sewn from a vintage pattern, the pearl necklace, low heels, auburn wig, and wide headband. What’s not to understand? You’re clearly a Beatles fan, circa 1964.

I thought it was obvious, too, but people kept asking me what I was supposed to be. Then Mark Tony said he thought I was dressed as myself.

"Yourself?"

Yeah. He said ‘Oh, I get it. Everyday is Halloween for you, Clea. So tonight, you’re made up like a normal person. Or what you would look like if you weren’t such a weirdo the rest of the time.’

He didn’t. Shock underscored London’s words—and maybe a touch of offense.

Yep. But don’t sweat it, I thought it was kinda funny.

He shook his head. "For whatever it’s worth, I think you look great. Really cute." He raked an appreciative gaze over me, taking his time.

My cheeks started to prickle with heat. It wasn’t the first time he had said that to me tonight. Or in the past. London was always generous with his compliments. Thank you, I said. You look nice, too, Mr. Lennon.

His only response to that