Now it had actually been fourteen whole days since that night with Blane at the music fest. I wished I could say the Stealer was out of my system, but no such luck. The memory of our short kiss haunted me during the day and drove me crazy in my dreams. It was my choice to flee—I’d accepted that fact—until yesterday, when Sonny offered up the gig for me to DJ on Halloween.
“Really?” I’d exclaimed.
“Yeah, babe.”
“Seriously, Sonny, no more babes. You sure this isn’t about Steele and his talking with you?”
I had to ask; I wasn’t about to let a guy fix things for me. Nope, that was how my mom operated, which is where Clara got the whole meet-a-rich-fucker idea. My dad wasn’t enough for my mom. She thought she was worthy of more, so she left him when we were little and began flaunting her Cuban ass all around town.
Sonny interrupted my thoughts. “Not in the way you think, but those dudes got a rager going on in their building. A pre-season Halloween bash, and I’m not missing it.”
On Halloween, I made my way to the studio wearing ratty, worn-in jeans, a black sweatshirt thrown over an orange lace camisole (not that anyone would see it), and Snoopy Halloween socks tucked into my Chucks.
Blane had called me sassy and sexy. I almost laughed at the memory. All it took was one look at my ridiculous Halloween getup, and you’d know I was neither sexy nor sassy.
My mind wandered continuously to Blane and what he might or might not be doing. Was he drinking? Was he by himself or did he have a date? Would he listen to me on the air?
Oh. My. God. I was turning into my sisters. My mom would be so proud.
I walked through the studio doors and gave a quick wave to the security guard before I made my way to the booth.
Music had been on autoplay for the last two hours. Sonny had prepped some playlists, but eight o’clock was coming quickly, and it was my time to take over. I’d be on from eight to midnight. Usually, it was Sonny’s Saturday Hookup, but tonight it was Saturday Showdown with Catie. I decided to ask for callers having relationship problems, figuring it would provide for some kind of showdown.
Clearly, I was winging it, seeing as I had zero relationship advice.
I flicked on the light and sat in Sonny’s swivel chair. It was so warm back in the booth, I shrugged off my sweatshirt, leaving me in the Halloween spirit in my camisole.
When the last song wound down, I flicked on the mic. “Hey, Hafton, Catie P. here. Remember me? I’m taking over for Sonny tonight. He had something better to do than entertain all of you. Lucky me, I get to trick-or-treat all night on the air with you. In fact, if you call in tonight, you’ll be entered to win a treat. The bakery is giving away a dozen doughnuts to a few lucky callers.”
I hit PLAY on the sound-effects board and the soft hum of a bubbly cauldron joined my voice.
“Right now I’ve got something from the graveyard, the ‘Monster Mash.’ Who remembers that one? I’ll be back in a few with some more spooky tunes, but here’s the deal, Hafton. If you and your significant other are having a Halloween tiff, call in. We’ll see if we can get to the bottom of it on this special episode of Showdown with Catie.”
I inhaled deeply while the “Monster Mash” played and grabbed my water bottle out of my bag. Four whole hours alone in the booth. I should have been ecstatic, but instead, I was sullen. I rubbed my hand along my temple, tucking my hair behind my ear as I adjusted my headphones.
“Get it the fuck together,” I muttered to myself, and hit the ON AIR button.
“Who has big Halloween plans tonight? Partying? Trick-or-treating? Or staying in for a romantic night for two? I doubt the last. Well, I’m here for you, playing Halloween hits, taking calls, and giving out doughnuts. One more tune to really get us in the mood.” I flicked PLAY as I switched the mic off, and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” flooded the airwaves.
The lights on the phone flickered, and I blinked my eyes in disbelief. People were actually calling my show.
I took another swig of water and swished it in my mouth before swallowing, then closed my eyes and took a series of deep breaths.
Vincent Price began his monologue at the end of the classic scary song, cueing me that it was nearly over. I shot a hard glance at the DISCONNECT button, making sure I knew where it was as there was no one at the station to preview callers. If someone got inappropriate, all I had to do was click it.
“Hey, Catie P. here tonight. Who’s this?”
“Hi, Catie. My name’s Michelle.”
“Hi, Michelle, how are you doing this Halloween? Are you dressed up?”
A little sniffle came over the line. “Yes, I’m a cowgirl, a sexy one.” Her voice was hoarse and hesitant. “I was supposed to go to the Halloween Hoedown, but my date didn’t show.”
“You know what, Michelle? I bet you make one heck of a cowgirl, sexy or not, and you should go hit up a different party. Callers? Who’s listening that has a wicked party going on? Give me a ring at the studio, and I’ll connect you with Michelle.”
She giggled. “That’s so cute, Catie. You think?”