Bat Out of Hell

  Bat out of Hell

  Bernadette Franklin

  Bat out of Hell

  by Bernadette Franklin

  Copyright © 2019 by Bernadette Franklin

  Cover design by Daqri Bernardo (Covers by Combs)

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  In the creativity department, I scored a zero on my Halloween costume. I blamed Clarissa; if she’d given me more than three days’ notice I needed to go to a Halloween party with her, I would’ve been able to dress up as something better than a gothic witch with an unhealthy interest in bats and crystals. I should’ve gotten some fake teeth and gone the vampire route, but the damage was already done.

  Booh, the favorite of my felt bat monstrosities, lived on my shoulder, permanently attached to my dress.

  The dress would rise from the dead later and haunt me, of that I was sure. In a complete lapse of sanity, I’d butchered my Prada, a slinky black dress I’d saved for two years to buy, and I slapped on a belt which I’d decorated with clear quartz spears I’d acquired from a New Age shop. With a little luck, they’d offer sanctuary from the inevitable surge of creepers I’d meet at the party. Then, as I’d already slaughtered my self-respect, I raided my closet for my black shoes and only pair of fishnet stockings, which I doubted would survive the night.

  To add insult to injury, I wasn’t even sure why I bothered with the stockings; they were barely visible beneath the tattered ends of my abused dress.

  Next time, I’d leave my dignity at the door and buy one of the slutty witch costumes from a pop-up store rather than ruin my only nice dress for the sake of a friend.

  Clarissa owed me, but damn it, I was too nice to call her out on it. Miss Money Bags might recognize the Prada for what it was, but she likely wouldn’t think twice about it. She owned a zillion of them and wouldn’t miss one if it vanished from her closet. My jealousy surged, and I shook my head at my pettiness.

  It wasn’t Clarissa’s fault that her father was a banker, and her mother was a movie star with more money than any god. It puzzled me the family didn’t live in California, instead choosing New Jersey as their stomping grounds of choice.

  I still wasn’t sure how I’d become friends with the woman, but it was her fault I’d saved up for my Prada, and it was definitely her fault I’d lost my mind and trashed it.

  Reality smacked me between the eyes and left me with a skull splitter of a headache, the kind that’d leave me wanting to throw up the entire night.

  Right. I’d used my Prada because the party was taking place at a posh penthouse in the heart of Manhattan, where the attendees rolled in cash and likely bathed in it before bed each night. I’d gotten an invitation on the grounds of being a good, grounding influence on Clarissa, whatever the hell that meant. During the week, I worked at an upscale boutique while pretending I could afford the kind of clothes I sold. Saturdays, I washed dishes at an equally upscale restaurant.

  Neither job qualified me to be a good, grounding influence.

  And nothing qualified me to go to a damned Halloween party for the rich and famous, but according to my phone, I had no more than ten minutes before a limo arrived to cart me off to the most humiliating night of my life.

  Why couldn’t I have told Clarissa no?

  Oh, right. I had exactly three friends, and Clarissa was one of them. Sophia and Lily were more Clarissa’s friends than mine, but they tolerated my presence with grace.

  My phone rang, and the display informed me Clarissa wished to grace me with her stunning intellect and charm. Already regretting every decision in my life leading up to this moment, I answered, “Hello, Clarissa.”

  “You sound less than thrilled to be coming to the hottest Halloween party in New York, Shirley.”

  No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape my name. One day, I would pay the government to change it to something better. Anything other than Shirley. “Couldn’t you just call me Lee? Please? I’ll beg.”

  “But then I sound like I’m talking to a boy, and you’re no boy.”

  “I’m fine with this. I would rather be a boy named Lee than a girl named Shirley. This is proof my mother hated me from birth.”

  “Your mother adores you, and we both know it. Don’t make me call your mom and make her cry. She will, too.”

  My mother really would, and I’d never hear the end of it. It would lead to darkness and a family dinner my mother insisted Clarissa would have to attend, and if Clarissa got her way, her parents would attend, too. The disasters would be as plentiful as the food.

  My mother could charm the devil with her cooking, and she’d already won over Clarissa’s entire family. It’d taken only once for my mother to earn the love of Clarissa’s entire family.

  Clarissa often searched for excuses for my mother to host a family dinner.

  “You are not worming your way into Thanksgiving dinner this year,” I announced, acknowledging I lied even as I spoke the words. Without fail, her entire family would be over for the holidays. “You will not seduce my mother again with your sad sighs.”

  “Already have an invitation for the whole family.” Clarissa cackled. “You’re just going to have to deal with it, babe.”

  “I shredded my Prada for you, and I may never forgive you for this. Why am I coming to this thing again?”

  “My parents love you; that’s why. My mother yelled at me last week for not being born a man. Had I been born a man, I could’ve married you and made her dreams of having the perfect daughter-in-law come true. She then asked if we were either lesbians or bisexuals. She would’ve accepted pansexual, too, if she got to have you for a daughter-in-law.”

  “Don’t you have brothers, Clarissa?” Clarissa had three brothers: one a year older than her, one a year younger than her, and one two years younger than her. “Don’t encourage your mother. You have brothers.”

  “My mother has informed them that they are not good enough for you. She’s dressing up as Babe Ruth this year just so she can walk around with a baseball bat should they get any ideas.”

  How had my life become so surreal? I, a poorer-than-dirt New Jersey denizen, had zero business brushing elbows with the rich and famous or being considered a grand prize future daughter-in-law. “Please explain to me how this happened.”

  “Well, it started yesterday, actually.”

  “Just yesterday?”

  “This specific incident started just yesterday. It’s your own damned fault you’re so nice. So, shush and let me tell you a story. The driver should be there in a few minutes. You are ready, right? Also, I changed the plans. You’re coming with me because my idiot brother changed his mind about attending, and we didn’t have enough vehicles. Your limo went to said idiot brother, so we’re sharing. In exchange, we have booze for the ride. Mom handed over a half bottle of sparkly to fortify us. It’s out of control. The party is actually taking place over the entire top floor now; the neighbors all decided they’d pitch in and host. It’s going to be insane.”

  “Can I refuse to come?”

  “No. We’re almost to your house. Get your ass outside so we’r
e not clogging up the alley that’s stupidly registered as a street. I don’t want the limo’s wheels stolen. If we sit here for more than five minutes, our wheels will be stolen. This is a fact. I need you to move out of this hellhole immediately if not sooner.”

  “The rent is cheap, and I shredded my Prada for this event. Now I no longer have a Prada, but my rent will still be cheap.”

  “You can move in with me. Mother would love if there were a responsible human being keeping an eye on me. According to her, I need to marry a good, responsible man who can rein in my insanity.”

  “Does such a man even exist?”

  “Apparently, he exists, but he was born a woman named Shirley.”

  Clarissa’s mother needed help, and I knew a few psychiatrists, thanks to my father. “So, remember my dad?”

  “How could I forget? He was a nutcase, but he was the nicest nutcase in Jersey. Even Mom and Dad miss him and that’s saying a lot. He was colorful, but he was cool.”

  I missed my father despite everything, including the early onset dementia that had claimed his life. The diagnosis had terrified my mother, and when Clarissa’s mother had learned about it, she’d offered to pay for my DNA testing herself. Fortunately for my pride, my insurance company had been willing to cover the test.

  I’d tested negative for the syndrome, though I do carry the gene responsible for my father’s demise. “I know his doctor, and I’m sure he’d be happy to schedule your mother in for an evaluation. I can even put her in touch with my insurance company since they’ll foot the bill for DNA testing.”

  “I still can’t believe you gave my mother a copy of your DNA testing results. She forced us to get tested to make sure we didn’t have the gene, too. For the record, we don’t. She did find out we’re predisposed for six types of cancers, so we’re being screened yearly now. Failure to show up for our scheduled screenings results in a spanking. I only know this because Damian attempted to skip his screening this year. Dad gave him a spanking.”

  I decided to ignore the idea that Clarissa’s father had given her older brother a spanking. Ignoring the problem might make it go away, so I replied, “It was something I could do for myself, so I did it.”

  “For the record? That right there is why my mother has a crush on you. If you hadn’t been so damned self-reliant, she wouldn’t be crushing all over you right now. You only have yourself to blame for this.”

  As there was no escaping Clarissa on a mission, I grabbed the drawstring pouch serving as my purse, tied it to my belt, and headed out of my apartment, triple-checking I locked the door behind me. “Also, just for the record, if you ‘for the record’ me one more time, I’m inserting my heel directly into your ass. And, you need an appointment with my father’s doctor, too.”

  “Oh, I know I’m crazy. I don’t need some damned old man with a PhD to tell me that. I just wanted you to be aware the party is bigger than initially anticipated. It will be chaotic. Please don’t insert your shoe in my ass. It takes forever to get one of your shoes out, and I’d rather not need surgical assistance with that task.”

  “You know my terms, Clarissa.”

  My friend spat a few curses, hesitated, and cursed some more. “This is cruel and unusual punishment. We’re pulling up now.”

  I trudged down the steps, shoved through the rusting gate responsible for keeping the riff-raff out of the building, and shook my head at the monster of a stretch limo, which had started its life as an SUV. I waited for the vehicle to come to a halt before letting myself in. A giant, inflatable t-rex waved at me.

  I closed my door, buckled up, and slapped my head. “The sparkly was a lie, wasn’t it?”

  “Underneath this t-rex costume, I’m dressed up as a hooker vampire. I just wanted to make a spectacular entrance, and nothing screams a spectacular entrance more than a t-rex emerging from a limo at the hottest party in town carrying a flute of Champagne. You can carry a flute of Champagne, too. I brought two.” Clarissa lifted her foot and showed off her heels. “We’re Prada girls today. Also, I can’t believe you did that to your Prada. That’s just insane. My mother is going to see what you’ve done, and the first thing she’s going to do is hunt for her designer friend to show you off. We’ll have a betting pool over her friend’s reaction. It’s going to be priceless, no matter what happens. There’s just some things you don’t do to a designer dress. This is one of them, Shirley.”

  “I didn’t have any other black dresses.”

  “You could’ve been a happy white witch of happiness, summoning cheer to all who meet you. It would’ve been amazing. Also, your belt is stunning. Actually, your entire outfit is stunning. I want to be you if I ever decide to grow up. And my mother’s right. There’s no way in hell my brothers are good enough for you.”

  I couldn’t see my friend’s face, but I could imagine her expression, which involved a whole lot of cunning married to a splash of evil. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but the answer is no.”

  “I have to protect you from my brothers, so I must find a suitable bachelor for you. Though, with you looking like that, you’re going to have an entire herd of admirers. You might even bag yourself a secret admirer. Do you know what happens when you bag yourself a rich secret admirer?”

  “I don’t want to know. Rich men tend to forget boundaries and indulge in excess. It would be a disaster.”

  “But it would be a disaster presented in a Tiffany box.”

  “Why would a secret admirer use a Tiffany box?”

  “That blue box is how rich men try to convince the new love of their life they’re really interested.”

  “Uh huh.” I shook my head and poked around the interior of the limo until I located the bottle of Champagne and the promised pair of flutes. As warned, it was a small bottle, and there’d barely be enough for half a glass each. “Please tell me this party will have alcohol.”

  “A glass a person limit. We’re not totally dry, but we’re doing one toast only, and that’s it.”

  “You’re crushing my dreams of rich people parties being drunken revelries, Clarissa.”

  “There are a lot of people who don’t drink a lot, plus it’s a work night. There will also be a bunch of kids around, so we’re going the safe route. One day, I’ll bring you to one of the drunken revelries. I’m sorry to crush your dreams of having a dalliance with a hot rich guy at a packed party while shit-faced drunk. Maybe next time.”

  Why was I friends with Clarissa? When I thought about it, it was rather obvious: she made life fun and interesting. “I could have a dalliance with a hot rich guy while sober.”

  “You could. It would be hot, too—and public. While the penthouses are pretty spacious, there won’t be a lot of privacy. Public’s not your style, babe.”

  “Damn. Why am I coming to this party again?”

  “You love me.”

  I did. “Before you showed up dressed like a t-rex, I thought I was too nice of a person to shove this in your face, but you so owe me for this—and you need to replace my Prada. I will take you for every penny of my new Prada, Clarissa. Mark my words.”

  “How about a Carter dress? You’d rock a Carter.”

  Sometimes, I worried for my friend’s sanity. “If I have to save for two years for a Prada, what makes you think I can afford a Carter?”

  “Why are you using logic against someone dressed in an inflatable t-rex costume?”

  “Because I’m an idiot.”

  Clarissa sighed. “If you can afford a Prada, you can afford a Carter. Sure, you can’t afford one of the custom Carters, but you can afford a Carter. Some of the outfits are actually cheaper than your Prada. Also, I can’t believe you took scissors to your Prada. Also, I’m astonished how good the Prada looks after you helped it to an early grave.”

  “Witch costumes have tattered dress hems. My Prada didn’t have a tattered hem. It needed all the help it could get.”

  “The accessories are a really nice touch. I’m surprised. You went all in.”<
br />
  “I figured I couldn’t have gotten away with going to a pop-up store and slutting it up.”

  “You totally could have gotten away with going to a pop-up store and slutting it up. Hell, most of us are going to be slutting it up because we can. You will wish this wasn’t the case by the time we’re done. I’m pretty sure my mother is going as a Baywatch girl if she doesn’t show up as Babe Ruth.”

  “Those swimsuits had a surprising amount of coverage.”

  “And Mom has the cleavage to turn the swimsuit into something terrifyingly scandalous. I’m just glad I’m no longer embarrassed by anything my mother does.”

  “It’s hard for you to get embarrassed when you’re shameless, Clarissa. And don’t even bother trying to deny it. You plan on strutting into a Halloween party in an inflatable t-rex costume while holding a flute of Champagne.” I checked the bottle. “Pardon, sparkling wine, as it seems you went on the cheap and didn’t get any actual Champagne.”

  “Harsh. What did I do to you?”

  “You made me come to this party. Let’s start with that. Then, fool that I am, I shredded the only nice piece of clothing I have to come to this party.”

  “We’re a match made in heaven. Why aren’t we lesbians?”

  I snorted at that. “We like men too much.”

  In my case, I liked looking at men too much, as I didn’t have the time or space in my life for a man. But damn, some days, I wish I did. Cheap thrills only went so far, and nothing ruined my day quite like kicking an ass out of bed before things got good because he had no idea how to play it safe even if I smacked him with a manual and provided the condoms.

  “Life is unfair. Why do men have to be so hot when they take their shirts off?”

  “Good question.”

  “Well, in the worst-case scenario, we should get some good eye candy tonight. I hear Tarzan is currently in fashion.”