Page 81 of Haunt the Mall

“Really?” I arched my eyebrow. “People in horror movies don’t usually survive that sentence.”

He smirked over his shoulder. “Good thing we’re in a romance.”

I laughed and pushed off the dividing wall. That cheeky spider man was slick. Did he even have an emergency or was he planning something elaborate? A prank? A kink? Anything was possible with him.

Especially in a dark, empty theater.

I stretched my neck and smiled. My skin tingled with anticipation. Was there anything I could do to surprise him? Strip naked and sit spread eagle on the chairs for when he came back? Or would that be too indecent? Maybe I could find Bitsy before the big reveal. He could’ve hidden her around here after he got my text.

The door cracked open without a sound. I held my breath and tensed. Was Victor waiting on the other side for me? If so, that was quick. His pranks usually happened quickly. They didn’t lure me into a jump scare.

Heart pounding in my ears, I crept closer.

The door waivered. Was this part of the theater haunted too? What did it want from me? I shoved the door open.

“Ah,” someone cried. The door smacked against something solid, decidedly not a ghost.

“What the fuck?” I poked my head into the hall.

Sam the squirrelly teen stumbled. He gripped the door, his eyes wide. “Uh, hi. Funny seeing you again.” He scratched his arm with the same mania dogs clawed at fleas.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Theater thirteen was supposed to be empty.

His jaw hung open and his gaze slung around the theater. “Uh, well, I was looking for Victor.”

“He’s off managing something,” I said.

“Right, right.” He avoided looking at me. Why was he being so shifty?

I crossed my arms. “Were you hoping he’d see the door move? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know if he was…busy,” he finished, curling into himself like he’d love to melt into the bright carpet, which wasn’t too far off from the red on his face.

I stiffened. Was he listening to find out if we were still fucking?

“If you’re done, I can clean,” he said awkwardly. “You’re one of the few girls I don’t mind cleaning up after.”

“What? Oh my god, don’t worry about it.” I escaped down the hallway and shuddered.

It was one thing for everyone here to know we were fucking. It was another for them to know when and where it was happening. Was it against some kind of code? Did we need to be more discrete? And what did he mean ‘one’ of the girls? Was there more than one? More than me, for Victor?

I took off in search of him.

His voice rumbled from the balcony. “She’s fucked up.”

The words stopped me in the hall. Surely, he wasn’t talking about me. This was a management situation, an irate customer or something. I peeked around the corner.

He paced on the balcony with his cell phone perched against his cheek. “I expect her to last at least through Halloween.”

What did he mean ‘last?’ Was he talking about us or some not-so-great employee?

He scrunched his bangs and rolled his eyes. “Yes. She’s beautiful to look at, but that’s not what I want. I want you to come down here as soon as possible and make things right.”

Who was he talking to? Or about? I wracked my brain for any issues he’d shared lately—but he hadn’t. He didn’t talk to me about anything heavy. Exes. Nothing.

He braced his forearms on the balcony. “If you cared about me, you’d try.”

I swallowed against a lump in my throat. Didn’t he care about me?