Madness--Exclusive 3T HORROR Story!

Hey Y'all, this is another first for the blog. For the first time in over TEN YEARS, I have penned not an erotica, but a HORROR story featuring your favorites and mine: 3T. Now don't fret, there are some romantic elements to the story, so you won't be starved for a bit of naughtiness. To be honest, I don't know why I exactly wanted to do a horror story, I've dabbled in horror off and on as long as I've been writing short stories. While I prefer to do erotica and more dramatic pieces, I can't stay away from horror, because my literary idols are Stephen King and RL Stine. And this is kind of my way of paying homage every so often to them. I do apologize that this was not completed by Halloween as I had intended, but I do hope you enjoy it just the same! I really enjoyed writing it!!!

"Madness"

A 3T Tale of Terror By:

MJsLoveSlave

In the darkness of the wee hours of the morning, preceding the coming dawn, a young man sat, his legs crossed Indian-style, partially underneath a low coffee-table. Though all was dark around him, the man himself was illuminated by the faint blue glow, emitted from the screen of his laptop, perched on the table's surface. Eyes, dark and serious and showing the bags that lack of sleep could produce beneath them, stared at the script filling the screen, reading intently the information he had been so desperately seeking for the last few hours.

This man wasn't piddling around, whiling the hours away.

He had been searching, desperately, frantically, maniacally searching for an answer.

He had been through something. Had dragged those closest to him into a web of mystery, a fractured state in which he could, within his own mind, not produce a logical explanation.

This defied any logical explanation.

Where this man had gone, where he had taken those other innocent souls with him, was not a logical place.

Evil.

The was the only way to describe it.

He'd seen evil, been touched by it, looked it in its face and had it glare back.

Indeed, he'd nearly been consumed by it body and soul, but had managed to get away.

But he wouldn't have a moment's peace there after until he knew what was going on.

What had caused it?

Why?

And most importantly, was he truly free of it?

Were they all free of it?

They had to be free of it. They had to be.

If they weren't...

God help them all.

One Week Earlier

Briar Creek Galleria

Late October, 2003

“...or like the great Falls, is the bedrock of my life eroding beneath me? ERODING! ERODING....!”

As the latest Jim Carrey comedic vehicle, Bruce Almighty, played from each of the jumbotrons marking the four corners of the Reel to Reel video rental store, drawing attention from and inciting a chuckle here and there from the dozen or so patrons browsing the aisles, one young woman, near the rear of the garishly neon-tinged shop, blissfully ignored the sophomoric humor being displayed over her head.

At first glance, Roxanne Yearwood, known affectionately as 'Roxy' to those closest to her, seemed no different than any other, doe-eyed twenty-something, with a little extra cash to burn as most of her peers who called their affluent hamlet, Briar Creek, a stone's throw from Sacramento, home.

Her, tall, lean and taut form was draped in all of the latest styles, a pair of hip-hugging camo-print jeans that draped the floor and swished with each movement she made, completely hiding the patent, olive green, platform-soled flip-flops she wore, adding an extra five inches to a frame which stood at five-feet-five exactly and matched the loose green sweater she wore, so oversized it had slipped off one of her glowing, sienna-brown shoulders, exposing one of her prominent collarbones along with it.

Thin, golden bangles jangled as she shifted back and forth, the frothing mass of ebony ringlets fluffing around her shoulders and framing her youthful, heart-shaped face, her large dark eyes, lush lashes fluttering as she scanned the titles of films awaiting renting, trying to decide which she wanted to take home with her.

Plump, pouted lips were sucked in, unconsciously being nibbled by pearly teeth, as Roxy continued concentrating.

But while most passing in the aisles around her were desperately trying to claim the latest releases and biggest hits, a peek at the three DVDs already clutched to Roxy's modest bosom showed her interests lay in the black and white celluloid of an era gone by.

Three on a Match, Dark Victory and Old Acquaintance, films all from the golden age of cinema and all starring one of Roxy's very favorite actresses, Bette Davis.

After a solid ten minutes of browsing the titles of over twenty available films—all of which she had seen time and again—a small hand, each nail tipped by a soft, pastel shade of polish, clashing with the more saturated tones in her outfit, hovered, and finally selected a film completing her Davis Quartet.

Marked Woman.

Yes, she had crafted the perfect balance of dramas and tearjerkers, enough to get her through the upcoming week at least.

Satisfied with her selections she swiftly made a bee-line towards the checkout stand, crafted of clear glass blocks and more of that eye-grating neon piping, flicking between hot pink, electric blue and acid yellow, her hand dropping into the green pebbled leather of her Dooney & Bourke handbag, coming up with the black and pink membership card, a well-worn tribute to her film obsession.

“And did you find everything you were looking for today?” The clerk, a skinny, greasy-haired punk, not too much younger than herself, questioned, more from practice than actual want of caring, as he swiped the card through a small machine, a dull bloop sounding before she could render a reply.

As the clerk's pock-marked face began to twist, so did Roxy's, with her wondering, her voice heavy and cultured, so much so she almost sounded as though she were constantly imitating old screen siren Marlene Dietrich,

“What's the matter?”

“You have a late fee--”

“That's preposterous!” The curls danced as Roxy threw her head with disdain, one hand falling to her slim hip with her adding, icily,

“I haven't had a late fee since 1999, and that's because I was down, sick as a dog, with the flu and couldn't make it to the mall--”

“Well, I don't know about all that, lady...” The clerk continued coolly, “...but there's an eighteen dollar overdue fee for the film Final Destination. I remember cause I checked out the man who rented it. He didn't have a card, but knew your number and he said you wouldn't mind because he was your boyfriend.”

“But I haven't got a...” Roxy trailed off and all of the softness and sweetness in her pretty little face, left in the blinking of an eye, going solid as stone for a second,features hardening and tightening, jaw muscles clenching, then reverted back to its regular appearance.

“Was...” Her nails began tapping the counter loudly. “Was it a tall, light-skinned man? A touch on the meaty side, with a forehead like you could show The Empire Strikes Back on?”

Beady eyes lit with recognition and he nodded,

“Yeah--”

“I'll pay it...” Roxy declared curtly, pulling a credit card from her bag and handing it over.

As it was swiped and her merchandise slipped into a plastic bag, her hand dropped into her purse again, this time coming up with a small flip phone, it's case encrusted with teeny crystals in both darker and lighter pink shades, arranged in a zig-zag pattern.

She instantly knew whom the culprit was, and as the fingers of one hand flew, punching out a number, the other gathered her belongings with her stomping from the store.

Loitering in the main thoroughfare just outside of Reel to Reel, an impatient foot tapped the linoleum tiles, each ring that passed causing her blood pressure to spike and her nerves to grate all the more.

“Come on...come on...I know you hear it ringing you doofus...” Roxy grumbled, her eyes darting first to the other dozen or so storefronts lining the walkway, marked in the middle by a pair of escalators.

Click.

Roxy inhaled, preparing to go on an obscenity-laced tirade.

“Hello--”

And she was off.

“Listen here, Taryll! You got a hell of a lot of nerve hijacking my video membership card and getting me stuck with an outrageous goddamn fine--”

“Hey! Hey! HEY!” The voice on the other end cautioned. “This ain't Taryll! This ain't Taryll!”

For the first time, Roxy did notice that while the voice was soft with a tenor note to it, sounding very much like Taryll, it was, indeed, not his voice.

Roxy paused, mid-step and squinted, recognition firing in her brain as she pinpointed the owner of the voice,

“TJ? TJ Jackson, is that you?”

“I certainly hope so; or else I'm wearing someone else's underwear--”

He quipped with a snort and Roxy's eyes rolled so hard she saw the inner workings of her brain.

“Why in hell do you have your brother's phone?”

“He gave it to me to hold while he went to the john. We're over by Piece of Pisa down in the Food Court. Are we still going to buy candy or what?”

Roxy was rushing for the escalator,

“Yes we are, and you stay put, I'll be there in a minute. I was at the video store--”

“So, I gathered--”

“I have a bone to pick with your blimp-headed sibling...and while you're at it, get a lady a slice of pizza!”

“The usual?”

“Yes--”

“I'm on it!”

A short while, and ride down three different escalators later, Roxy emerged on the first floor of the mall, and the sparks which had been nagging at her since she had left Reel to Reel on the fourth floor, had transformed into something of a raging inferno as the jaunt had given her enough time to select her words, and what level of decibel she wanted to shout them at.

Furthering her frustration, the Food Court of the Briar Creek Galleria, as was the same sob story with every other mall across the country that Saturday afternoon, was packed to the gills with patrons ranging from babes in their mothers' arms, to teenagers pretending they were fully grown adults, to elderly couples, shouting over the general din to be heard by one another, as hearing aids chose to fail them at that specific moment.

Roxy was overwhelmed by not only the sheer volume of people and noise surrounding her, but also the various delicious and enticing scents wafting from each of the many stands surrounding a sunken pit full of tables, chairs and shoppers chowing down.

A cacophony of aromas, from fried chicken to cheeseburgers, egg rolls to quesadillas, inundated Roxy's tiny nose, causing it to wrinkle blissfully, as she could acutely pick out each and every one of her favorite foods to nosh on within the court, momentarily overriding her urge to hand out a tongue lashing.

And as she neared Piece of Pisa, it's gaudy sign made out of a tower of pizzas leaning and emulating it's namesake, the Tower of Pisa, a new, yet well-known scent to Roxy not only invaded her nose but completely wiped out all the scents that had come before it.

A bright, briny scent that harkened of the ocean, mimicking how, in a romanticized way, a person would smell after a day at the beach. Fresh, clean, salty, and a bit sweet, Roxy knew that scent right away.

It was Aquatic Dreams and had been the scent of choice for one TJ Jackson for over ten years, since he'd first been gifted the cologne on his fifteenth birthday.

Roxy knew TJ wore so much of the stuff on a daily basis it should have fused with his DNA by now.

By the way the scent was punching her in the nostrils, he had to be somewhere in close proximity to her.

It didn't take much hunting to locate him.

He sat less than a foot away from her, at a small table, his back to her, cramming away his Food Court staples, a large curly fry from the Burger Shack, smothered in ketchup and black pepper, and a large half-orange, half-strawberry soda.

It was hard to miss TJ Jackson, and as Roxy approached him, she could see as far as ten tables away, adolescent and teenage girls were continuously peeking at and giggling about him.

He sprawled lazily in his chair, a pale blue zip-up sweater and loose-fit jeans clinging to what was easily identifiable as lean, hard athletic body. (And TJ had been on every last sports team in high school and college: football, baseball, field hockey, lacrosse and swim.)

His broad shoulders hunched in his laxness, but the muscles beneath the surface rippled just the same.

Roxy lingered behind him, staring at the back of his head, his hair, jet black and tapered on the sides, becoming an explosion of coils at the crown , glancing at the table.

It was clear Taryll had been there, as across from TJ, was a Barbecue Bacon Burger, several bites missing with fries slathered with mayonnaise, and a chocolate shake.

His favorite meal.

And Roxy's “usual”, a huge Supreme slice from Pisa, a little cup of Ranch dressing to pour on top—her preferred way to eat any kind of pizza that crossed her lips—and a large Diet Coke, sat cooling and waiting for her.

Reaching past TJ, startling him in the process, as a gasp popped from his mouth, Roxy swiped a fry from Taryll's plate and began chewing on it.

“Girl, it is too close to Halloween to be sneaking up on me like that...” He chuckled, shoving more fries in his gullet as she slipped into the seat catty-corner to him. “...I almost shouted.”

“Liar, you had a mouth full of spuds, just like you do right now...” Roxy made the statement calmly, as she poured the Ranch on her pizza, but her smugly smiling face told otherwise.

TJ was a terribly attractive man, with classic features, smooth, deep cocoa complexion, and gold-tinged brown eyes, beneath thick, yet well-groomed brows, an upturned nose and lips, when spread as there were right then, with him returning the smile, gave his face a hint of what could only be described as looking like The Joker from the Batman comics...albeit without the gaudy white pancake makeup.

Yet when paired with his ease of attitude and jarring good looks, it was a charming trait that may have been undesirable had it been on anyone else.

“Well, I'd have made some kind of noise, either way.” TJ chuckled, sprinkling more pepper on his fries, before asking,

“Now what did Taryll do to get on your last good nerve this time? You almost tore my ear off on the phone! ”

Breaking a piece of garlicky, buttery crust off, Roxy shook it at him and started to get wound up,

“That thief you call a brother ran up a charge--”

She stopped abruptly mid-sentence, as she caught sight of a familiar figure ambling towards them.

Weaving in and out of tables, was TJ's brother, Taryll.

Taryll, three years TJ's senior, physically was quite a departure from his sibling.

While both men had the mixed blood of an African-American father, and Latina mother, Taryll's blending was much more obvious, as he had taken after his mother. His features were softer, a bit more to the androgynous, leaving him with what could be called “pretty-boy” good looks as opposed to the more overt masculine ones TJ's bore.

Taryll's complexion was a buttery bronze, offset by his piercing, hazel eyes, which, depending on the light shone green and in some cases amber, beneath brows just as broad as TJ's but not quite as sharply sculpted.

The bridge of a small, straight nose was crinkling, as were the corners of his eyes as he spied Roxy at the table, eating more of his mayo-drenched fries, pert, pink lips parting and showing off a blindingly white smile.

He was a touch shorter and heavier than his brother, but by no means overweight—he was no stranger to sports either, as evidenced by his tight, winter white thermal tee, the bright red Polo logo of a jockey atop a horse with a mallet spread over his chest, and more tightly fitting jeans, a silver wallet chain swaying and bouncing against his left hip with each stride he took.

Taryll started to slip into his seat, but stopped, hovering a few inches above the chair, as he was met with a scathing glare from Roxy, with her greeting him coldly through lips that barely moved,

“Well, well, well, I suppose it is true what they say: the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime!”

Sitting, Taryll made a dramatic gesture of putting one of his large hands to his chest and staring around the court, his high forehead furrowing as he squinted, echoing,

“Scene of the crime? Scene of the crime? Last I checked this was the Galleria and not the corner of Post Avenue and Elm Street, where I got that ticket for doing seventy in a thirty-five mile zone. Of course it was my birthday then and I'd tossed back WAY too many glasses of Pinot Noir--”

“You know exactly what in the hell I'm talking about you crook!” Roxy hissed the last word much like a snake preparing to strike.

“I just had to pay a fine at Reel to Reel because a certain person at this table, whom I will leave unnamed, but has a head like the goddamn Hindenburg, racking up a damn near twenty dollars in late fees on Final Destination!”

At the Hindenburg comment, TJ had to mash a napkin to his mouth to keep from spitting fries across the table he was so amused.

Leaning forward, a manicured nail was jut directly under Taryll's nose as he lifted his burger, a few diced onions and some hickory barbecue sauce falling back onto his paper plate, helping himself to a massive bite, Roxy demanded,

“Give me my money, Taryll Jackson!”

Chewing contentedly on his hunk of medium-well cow, Taryll waited until he'd swallowed it away, responding, his voice mild,

“I'll give it to you as soon as I finish my food. Burger got cold while I was gone--”

“That burger's not going to be the only thing cold in a minute!” Roxy snapped, eyes widening lethally,

“Give me my money Taryll! You know I work too hard for my mon--”

She was cut off by both Jacksons snickering outright at her.

“Hahahaha! You—work? Hahaha! Did you hear that?” TJ snorted a fist crashing against the Formica tabletop, while Taryll threw his head back, crowing at the beams overhead.

“Roxanne...” Taryll, face growing maroon as he struggled to speak through his guffaws,, his hand brushing the curls off her shoulder and being slapped away, a red mark glowing across his knuckles,

“The only thing you work at is getting on people's nerves! Work—hoo shit! When we all know every month your grandfather replenishes your bank account! All you do is light bookkeeping at your grandparent's vineyard once a month! That takes what? An hour of typing on the computer, and you're gone with the wind till the next time!”

Roxy, scowling, began to sink in her seat, at being exposed, unceremoniously, that even at the adult age of twenty-five, she was still living on her relatives' dime.

“It's not like your life is so hard, either one of you...” She simpered, starting to stagnate in defeat,

“The grapes from my Gramps' vineyard goes into every bottle of wine you create and age...and we all know the only one of you really overseeing the bottling company is Taj...”

“Lie again, Roxy...” TJ interrupted her snidely, taking a long drag off the straw sticking out his soda.

“You know full well that Taryll and I deal with the business aspect of the bottling—label making, quality control—that's how Taryll got to speeding, swallowing the damn wine samples instead of spitting them out--”

Taryll's eyes rolled with aggravation, but his amused grin never waned.

“--finding more outlets to sell the Yearwood-Jackson wines. It is kind of a hard thing to do, when we're probably one of the only Black-owned wineries in the world, not to mention coming out of California when most vino snobs go for the French or Italian stuff...”

More curly fries went into TJ's mouth with him adding as Roxy resigned to a bite of her gooey pizza,

“Taj is on the mechanical aspect of it. Forever in the factory, making sure everything is clean and up to par so we don't have the Health Department up our butts, tinkering around and fixing stuff--”

“Speaking of Taj...” Roxy's mind left the sordid topic of the debt as owed to her for a moment, with her wondering,

“Where is the oldest of you Jacksons? Isn't he helping us buy candy too? We have to get lots, what with Gramps and Gran always making little care baskets for the kids at the Children's Hospital, and then your father and Uncle Michael throwing their Halloween bash at Michael's ranch for our dear alma mater every year.”

“He's coming...” Taryll assured her sprinkling salt on the mess of mayo clinging to his fries and chomping on them. “...he had to stop by to see Pops and get the list of the candy needed. He'd have called, but you know how Taj goes through cell phones like a fish through water...”

“Not again!” Roxy laughed, popping a pepperoni into her mouth.

Taj Jackson was notorious for his bad luck with mobile phones, a trait that had seen him go through close to thirty of the devices since the mid-nineties.

If he wasn't setting them down and forgetting where he left them, he was dropping them everywhere from into the toilet, down the garbage disposal, out of the windows of speeding cars on the highway, and most famously, simply sitting on and breaking ones he'd carelessly left on chairs.

Why, that year alone he'd been through four phones!

“God, maybe he just doesn't need to have a phone!” Roxy tittered,watching Taryll take another bite of his burger, following it with a few more fries, taking his own sweet time in devouring the gut-busting meal.

And taking far too long for Roxy's waning patience.

Stealthily, she reached down and took hold of the silver links fanning his thigh.

“You're eating too slowly, I'll get the twenty.” She declared and much to her dismay, a tug on the chain, did not produce a wallet, but only threw Taryll towards her, his upper body colliding with her, their heads narrowly missing crashing into one another.

“GIRL! I'm not going to give myself indigestion rushing, and besides, I don't actually have the chain hooked to my wallet, I'm not stupid!” Taryll started with Roxy shooting back,

“Could have fooled me!”

Gripping her shoulders lightly, Taryll pushed himself back upright in his chair, as, if he were to learn over a few inches more, he'd have toppled out of his chair entirely.

“You're going to have to wait until I get to the candy shop; the smallest bill I got on me is a fifty and I need to break it.”

A hand went up and ruffled Taryll's looser, brownish black tendrils, cut similarly like TJ's but much more tamed, with Roxy sighing with exasperation, looking him up and down.

“You would only have fifties on you, just to annoy me!”

Popping the last bite of burger in his mouth, Taryll winked at her, smacking obnoxiously.

“I got a couple of hundreds too--”

“Taryll!”

“Are you two about done? Because I'd like to get this candy mess out the way...” TJ announced, rising from the table, gathering his tray and empty drink cup.

“I do have plans to see Corrine before she leaves town tonight--”

“I still think that's mighty weak, your girlfriend taking off a week before Halloween...” Taryll tried to hide a giggle as he picked up both his and Roxy's empty trays.

“You're acting like she had a choice.” TJ cut his eyes at his brother, lips puckering angrily, “I can't help it if she has to go back to Mexico now. You know her Aubuela's been in and out the hospital for about a month since she came down with pneumonia. I'd go with her, for sure, but I have to stay here and look after some dealings I have to attend to this upcoming week. Some guys from Japan are coming in and I have to show them around and sweet-talk them into selling our wine in Tokyo and Osaka...oh the life of a businessman....”

“ I'm sorry about all that, really. I'd take it off your hands...” Taryll shrugged as the trio tossed their trays into a large trashcan on the edge of the Food Court, “...but I got my own hands full with some people coming in from Holland. Hell, I even had to brush up on my Dutch for it.”

“Don't even get me started. I've been up to my eyebrows in 'Japanese for Dummies' for two weeks preparing for this...” TJ shook his head dejectedly, as they clustered together, to avoid losing one another in the steady stream of shoppers and idlers passing them by, heading for the nearest escalators to take them to the candy store on the second level.

“I wanted to reschedule; Pops said 'hell no', so here I am.”

“Isn't Taj fluent in Japanese?” Roxy asked,Taryll putting a hand up to stop TJ and allow her onto the rolling staircase first.

“No, he's fluent in Chinese, Mandarin specifically...remember a few years ago, he was running around behind that masseuse, Mai-Ling? You know, the one who did more than loosen his calf muscles after he kept getting stress cramps that time?” Taryll wiggled his brows and Roxy nodded in agreement,

“...and come to find out he wasn't the only one Miss Mai-Ling was doling out 'Happy Endings' to?”

“Exactly!”

“You should have been there...I didn't know Taj was that good at it, but he sounded like a Bruce Lee picture without the subtitles when he cussed her out. Amazing!” TJ was laughing again and the mood had further lightened, by the time they stepped off onto the next floor.

“Wished I had filmed it. You know, sometimes when he's really pissed, he'll go off in Chinese instead of English or Spanish and it's hilarious. He turns purple, starts screaming and his voice gets really shrill...I almost need a diaper because I come close to wetting myself it tickles me so much!”

“Taj? Taj screams?” Roxy looked between the brothers in disbelief as they fell in stride on either side of her. “I've never heard him scream in my life, outside of a roller coaster. He's the nicest person--”

“That's because you're a girl,you've never pissed him off, and he keeps his temper in check when you're around. But when it's a sausage fest, he let's the expletives fly.” Taryll put in, hand over his mouth, muffling laughs, as the loud entrance of the Lollipops and Gumdrops, the sprawling all inclusive gourmet candy shop came into view, flashing multi-colored lights shaped like the gummy treats framing the open doorway.

Directly in the center of the doorway, the trio noticed, as they got closer and closer, a man raised his arm, flagging to them.

Ah...the elusive Taj Jackson was beckoning.

And yes, while Taj was the oldest, with two years separating himself and Taryll and a full five between him and TJ, he was considered the quietest and shyest of the bunch and could have pssed as the youngest.

There had always been an unassuming, sedate vibe about him, and as he waved, there still seemed to be an element to him that begged to be overlooked and go unnoticed.

Taj was a perfect melding, in appearance, of his parents: he had taken a lighter complexion from his mother, but all of his features were solely his father's.

The full brows, the sleepy dark eyes that dipped downwards at the corners, the proud little nose, typically shining, and perfect, cupid's bow lips, that rarely parted with noise.

He had been graced with dark curls like his brothers, but several years back, had chosen to wear his hair woven into braids, that varied in both length and color depending on his mood, as he had them redone each month.

Today though, for the month of October, his braids were a solid mass of black, falling just beyond his shoulders, the fringe which typically fell in and obscured his face, held back in a half-ponytail, displaying his features and framing his prominent ears. It was a rare glimpse into a comely and stern, yet friendly face.

His posture, was always slightly slumped, with him falling as the shortest despite his age—though he still had several inches on Roxy—as was no different with him slouching in an oversized, tangerine, Abercrombie sweatshirt and flared khaki-cargo pants with legs so wide, they air-conditioned at the bottoms. He was built similarly to Taryll, but his entire form was lost as he swam in his outfit.

His omnipresent bag of choice, a plain black canvas backpack, which he seemed to carry his entire life in, money, credit cards, books, snacks, phones before he lost them, had been slung over one shoulder.

There was something off about Taj that afternoon, Roxy noticed, pinpointing it directly in his face.

Crazed...

That was the best way to describe it.

There was a crazed look radiating from that adorable, round, chipmunk-like face.

With eyes saucer-like and glistening, his entire visage seemed to shine, hot-blooded redness flooding his chubby cheeks.

Something was up and it wouldn't take long to find out what.

Roxy saw Taryll and TJ exchange curious glances over her head, with TJ breaking the ice with a wave,

“Hey Bro, what's up--”

“What's up? What's up?” Taj's voice, usually much deeper than his brothers' came across at a higher pitch, cracking a few times in his evident excitement, “I'll tell you what's up!”

Roxy staggered a moment. In all the years she had known Taj, she'd never seen him quite so worked up...he was usually so mild-mannered.

Hands were thrown up and his brows nearly met his hairline as he continued, speaking so quickly he was like a record playing ten times too fast!

“You know how I'm in Flicker Fright, right? That DVD club that sends me obscure horror films every month?”

“Yeah...” Came the unanimous agreement as all knew of it in the vaguest sense.

It was well known that Taj's hobby in life outside of his work at his father's winery and and some intermittent photography he did on the side for extra cash, was the watching of horror films.

An entire room in the apartment he and his goldfish Koontz shared (named after horror writer Dean Koontz) contained all of his horror film memorabilia from VHS tapes and DVDs to action figures and other licensed do-dads, including a life-sized statue of Boris Karloff's rendition of Frankenstein's Monster.

When Taj wasn't working or kicking cheating tramps to the curb in their native tongue, he could be found leaving a dent in his couch giving himself thrills and chills round the clock. It was a pastime he immersed himself in and freely indulged his every whim.

A whim usually kept to the confines of his home, or various conventions he took off for a few times a year to share his passion with other like-minded individuals.

It was quite unnerving to see a quiet man, who typically led a quiet, cloistered existence, so swiftly full of life, light and chatter.

“I've been in the club for over three years...” Taj swung his pack off his back and grabbing hold of the tiny figure of Lon Chaney, Jr's version of The Wolfman, dangling from the zipper, he opened the larger of the two compartments and was rifling through what sounded like multiple papers crinkling and the distinctive click of hard, plastic, CD cases. “...got over a hundred films. Each year you go up a ranking. I was Silver, then Gold...now I'm Platinum! That's top of the top! Advanced from getting just one film a month to five...stuff I had never seen. Stuff I'd never heard of. It's Heaven on Earth opening my mailbox every month and finding new titles that left me in a cold sweat--”

“Is it horror or porn?” TJ joked under his breath, and staggered as Taryll gave him a playful shove, Roxy moving out of the way and a step closer to Taj who continued to rummage.

“Hold this for me please...”

A rather large, rectangular glass bottle was extended to Roxy, the pale brown liquid inside of it sloshing.

“Uh...okay...” She took the bottle, which had the words Mon Tresor—French for My Treasure—inscribed in block lettering. “What is this?”

Brown eyes darted at her a moment. “My cologne.”

“Oh...”

Removing the round faceted cap, she took a whiff, and indeed it was the same strong scent, coffee, tinged with musk and vanilla, that wafted from Taj at all times.

“With the way you're digging and going on, you just might find Jimmy Hoffa's body in there!” Taryll spit out, and he and TJ laughed so hard, they were bumping into one another.

“Shut the fuck up...” Taj murmured it so lightly, Roxy barely heard him.

Her brows went up in surprise, but she called no attention to his cursing.

She'd never heard him curse before, not even when he took a line-drive to the belly during a family baseball game and kept a circular bruise on abdomen for over a month.

“Come on Taj, can't this wait?” Taryll, regaining his composure, wiped a laughter tear from one eye. “We still have to get that candy--”

“I already ordered the candy for the party—for your grandparents' charity shindig too, Roxy. It's being boxed up and shipped out as we speak--”

“You already ordered it? And paid for it?” Taryll and TJ cried in unison, and Roxy nearly dropped the cologne from the shriek.

“But that was over two thousand dollars worth of candy, how'd you pay for it?”

“I used petty cash from the winery...” Taj shrugged nonchalantly as though spending a couple of grand on tooth-rotting treats was a normal occurrence.

Hands to his head, mussing his curls, Taryll almost screamed,

“Taj, Pops is gonna stomp you--”

“Who the hell you think told me to take the money?” A sobering glare went over Roxy's head and back at his brothers, both of whom fell silent.

His eyes settled on her, with him apologizing in his usual, low speaking voice,

“Pardon me, Roxy, you know I don't like to curse in front of ladies.”

“That's alright.” She told him, with it never failing to make her feel a bit special that he took extra strides to be polite when in her company.

His mannerisms at time, though he stayed wired to blood and gore, reminded Roxy of the old matinee idols wooing and swooning across the flickering celluloid in the classic films she held so dearly.

Glancing over her shoulder, she instructed Taryll,

“Go break one of those big bills you're flaunting and give me my twenty--”

Taryll's face creased all over with aggravation at being reminded of his debt,

“Roxanne--”

“Here we go!”

The backpack fell to his feet, with Taj clutching a matte black envelope in his hands.

There was nothing written on it, not even a postage stamp.

“This came in the mail and when I opened it, I shouted so loud, the flashlight cop in my building came running.”

As the back flap was lifted, Taryll and TJ moved closer, the brothers and Roxy looking on curiously, as Taj plucked a smaller black card emblazoned with whirling, curling golden script which he read,

“Dear Mr. Jackson,

Due to your extreme loyalty and patronage, you have become eligible for a special treat reserved for only our most dedicated members:

Four tickets have been left in your name at the Craven Theatre in Downtown Colton Bluff, California, for a special Halloween screening of the film Madness, promptly at eight o' clock.

Once again, thank you for your membership.

Sincerely,

Your Friends at the Flicker Fright Film Club.”

Taj paused, his words lingering in the air, but failing to have the effect on those nearest and dearest to him, and after an interval of silence, Roxy, missing the absolute point, broke the ice,

“What's Madness?”

Taj's eyes swelled at her with what seemed to be disbelief mixed with contempt, a hand going out and patting the bared flesh of her exposed shoulder.

“Seeing as how you're into classic film, I know you'll appreciate this...”

He stopped long enough to place his belongings back in his sack, throwing it over his shoulder.

His hand fell on her shoulder again, for a much shorter span of time, as he brushed past her.

“Where in the hell are you going now?” TJ called after him, the three of them rushing to catch back up to Taj as he made a beeline for the escalators.

“Food Court. I haven't had anything today but a cup of black coffee for breakfast.”

“We just came from the Food Court, man!”

“But did you see my yellow behind sitting at the table eating with you? No!” Taj called back as he slipped onto the staircase going down.

“And if you'd stop breaking phones every other day, you could have called us and we'd have gotten you something!” TJ's hands fell to his trim hips with him grumbling under his breath in Spanish, words which, his siblings and Roxy, no drop of Latin blood to her, unlike her half-Dominican counterparts,though she was as fluent in the language as them, deciphered easily the barrage of swear words.

Taj remained staring straight ahead, though the hand he had on the banister, clenched several times, a sign he was trying to control his temper.

He maintained a civil tongue in his head as they walked to the end of a line about ten deep, coming from the Weenie Hut, specializing in hot dogs.

“Now like I was saying...” He picked up the conversation as if the snide remarks had never taken place.

“Madness is a horror film from 1933, and while I've never seen it, I've heard plenty of tell about it in my cinema chat rooms. It should have been right up there with the likes of Frankenstein, Dracula, The Devil Bat, White Zombie, Phantom of the Opera...all those kinds of films...but it got pulled from screens shortly after its release. ”

“I'm feeling fruity...” Taryll unhooked one end of his chain and absently twirled it. “Why did the movie get pulled?”

“Fruity? Well, with that haircut--” TJ sputtered and stopped as a fist was curled in his direction.

“BOY...”

“You two need Jesus...” Roxy drew closer, so Taj could see he at least held her attention.

“Tell me about, please...” She urged, patting after his bicep through the sleeve of his top.

There was a look of gratitude in his eyes, with him glancing first at her hand on him and then into her inquisitive little face and the smallest touch of a smile came to his lips.

“You've seen 'The Exorcist', right?” Taj directed his line of speaking at her, taking a few steps forward as the line advanced.

“Yeah...sure...well, bits and pieces when I wasn't so scared...” Roxy admitted, nudging him as the line moved some more.

A hand came up, Taj stroking his chin thoughtfully, explaining,

“Madness was like The Exorcist on steroids. Not necessarily about a priest trying to drive a demon out a kid. Nah, this is more science fiction: Your stereotypical mad scientist trying to seek revenge on those who claimed his experiments were unethical, by the use of this gamma ray he'd spent years holed up in his lab building after he was shunned and publicly shamed. . Shined it into the homes of his enemies and slowly they began to go insane. It's like the other film because it supposedly has such graphic depictions of violence and gore, on a level like was never seen at the time of its original release...”

Roxy was pulled forward, Taj on the move, squinting up at the lighted menu mounted behind the counter and sizzling flat-top ranges, mouth flapping,

“...oh, you had your select few who fainted and/or fled the theatre in terror. It's not a good film if a few seats aren't vacated. A few more got sick and threw up all over themselves...”

He bellied up to the counter.

“And then there was the real scandal—yeah, let me have a footlong beef hot dog, with spicy mustard, sauerkraut, onions, and jalapenos. No drink, no fries. Just the dog please.”

“That'll be six-fifty, Sir.”

As he fished in his pocket for what had been left over from the petty cash used for the Halloween candy, Roxy looked back at Taryll and TJ.

Neither seemed particularly interested in the story Taj had been regaling them with, as TJ had produced a metallic blue T-Mobile Sidekick from his pocket and by the way his thumbs were flying, he was texting Corrine; Taryll was on his phone, and standing nearer him, Roxy could see he was choosing a new ring tone.

They might not have cared, but Roxy did love film and had chatted often with Taj about all areas of cinema, and this was no different.

Her interest was indeed piqued.

As he took the receipt and crumpled it in his hand, Roxy, mirroring what he'd done a short while earlier, gripped his shoulder.

“What was the real scandal with Madness?”

What could have been worse than explicit carnage, and people puking their insides up onto their shoes?

A finger was held up, indicating she wait as he was passed his overloaded hot dog, and turning to her, he took a bite, barely audible through all the slop rolling around in his mouth,

“The suicides.”

“The what?” Heads flew up from tiny glowing screens while Roxy's jaw dropped.

“The suicides.” Taj repeated calmly, wandering, again leaving his siblings and Roxy to jog to keep pace.

“Suicides?”

“Over a horror film?”

“Get out!”

“Shut up!”

“Explain this to me!”

“Me too!”

“Taj, quit being mysterious! You ain't Alfred Hitchcock!”

Taj stopped so quickly, at Taryll's comment they almost ran into him.

“Of course I'm not Mr. Hitchcock. I'm a man of Color, I'm thin and I still have all my hair--”

He retorted hotly, demonstrating that he was opposite in every way from that of the famous filmmaker and “Master of Suspense”.

“TAJ, GODDAMN!”

The three hollered, drawing stares, but neither cared.

Taj had a tidbit on life-support and was nursing it to death!

“Alright. Alright...” Seeing he was cornered, Taj turned back to them, having another bite of hot dog,

“Depending on what chat room you're in there were as little as two and as many as twenty-five suicides blamed on Madness. Allegedly, people saw the picture, went loony and bumped themselves off all kinds of ways Jumped off the roofs of buildings, slit their wrists, hung themselves, kissed revolvers, played 'chicken' with speeding trains, you name it...they did it.”

He popped a pickled slice of jalapeno into his mouth and smacked on it noisily.

“What was supposed to be the grand American debut for filmmaker Florenz Hahn, who not only directed the picture, but produced and wrote the screenplay, instead left him destitute and returning to his native Austria in disgrace, where he lived until the Nazis invaded in...”

Taj trailed off, and his eyes went skyward as he tried to produce the date.

“Nineteen thirty-eight...”Roxy, whom had always possessed an uncanny aptitude for recalling historical events supplied, receiving an approving grin from Taj before he turned solemn,

“Right...and since Florenz and his wife were Jewish, they were shipped off right away to a concentration camp...both died right before the camps were liberated near the end of World War Two. They were gassed...”

The rest of the dog was polished off, with Taj licking mustard from his thumb.

“Died in vain...only knowing the shame of a film that had bankrupted them, and the horrors of Dachau.--”

A moment of silence passed.

Out of respect, out of sheer amazement, it was a different reason for each of the four.

Then snapping the keyboard on his Sidekick shut, TJ implored, a brow going up,

“Taj...you've just told us that this movie made people ralph in the theatre, run for the hills screaming, kill themselves...” He rubbed at his pointed chin.

“...and from the way you're talking, you've got four tickets, and there's only one of you. So, I'm going out on a freaking limb here like I'm Tarzan, but I'm assuming you want me, Taryll and Roxy to go with you to this screening!”

Pitching the container his food had been in, into a trashcan, Taj shifted his pack on his shoulder, looking TJ from head to toe, nitpicking,

“I'm sorry, I forgot about the big plans you had: being up to your crooked nose in pre-teens at the Halloween party at Uncle Mike's ranch...You're twenty-five, your girlfriend ain't even gonna be in the damn country—excuse me Roxy—and you want to waste it listening to a bunch of kids arguing which member of the Backstreet Boys is hottest...or...”

Taj stepped up so closely to TJ, their chests bumped, with each eyeing each other.

“Please don't fight...” Roxy heard Taryll whisper and nerves caused her to twist the top of the bag containing her DVDs.

“...you can suck it up, and come with me and enjoy a good, old-fashioned movie. I'm sure the Craven is one of those fancy movie palaces from the thirties. I'm planning to dress up for it. Clean, sharp suit, like I was Al Capone or somebody! Halloween comes but once a year!!

In spite of herself, Roxy smiled,digging Taj's train of thought.

For the longest she'd wanted an excuse to dress like the screen sirens so admired.

And before she could stop herself, she chirped,

“I'm in. Can...can I dress like I'm Bette Davis?”

Taj's warm hand was covering her shoulder.

“Any star you want--” Taj started and scowled as Taryll teased,

“You got ears like Clark Gable.”

“Lord have mercy!” TJ, whom had resumed his texting, doubled over at the comparison.

“And Clark was King of the Movies...” Roxy pointed out, moving to Taj's side and wrapping her arms around his hips, hugging him, to keep him from taking flight into his brother.

“...so take it as a compliment, Tariano.”

At the sound of his real first name, Taj smiled bashfully, looking from her.

“Well, if Roxy isn't afraid that she'll throw herself in front of a train, or puke up popcorn after seeing the film, I'll go too. I know if I don't, Pops will make me dress up as a damn clown, like he did last year and that stupid makeup made me breakout so bad I had to go see a dermatologist!” Taryll tossed his head stubbornly, arms crossing over his chest.

“I still have to go for an oxygen facial every so often; I'd rather take my chances with losing my mind at a movie, than have to be Bozo: Part Two again!”

“Welcome aboard!” Taj held out his fist and Taryll bumped it with his own.

All eyes turned to TJ expectantly.

His head was lowered, thumbs flashing over the tiny keyboard.

“TJ?” Taryll ventured and TJ nodded, curls bouncing, head never coming up,

“I'll go...” He announced cryptically, “But I'm gonna make sure everything is hunky-dory with my life insurance before I set foot in that theatre.”

“Spoilsport!” Taj chuckled, an arm draping around Roxy, with him vowing,

“I promise you: this Halloween is going to be a night we'll never forget!”

Initially, Taj, Roxy and Taryll were beaming...and though his head stayed bowed, TJ's lips curled up into that Joker-esque sneer.

“Come on, come on!” Taj encouraged, sticking a hand out, Roxy, Taryll and finally, placing theirs on top in agreement.

Yes...Halloween was going to be a night to remember...

For all the wrong reasons.

* * *

Two Days Later

Briar Creek Galleria

Roxy wasn't quite sure how much time had passed, since she had steered her silver bullet of an Audi into one of the few vacant parking spots sprawling out from the front of the megalopolis of a shopping center that bright, cool Monday morning, but it had been long enough for her to curse herself up, down and out within her own head.

Following her video store run only forty-eight hours earlier, she hadn't intended to return to the mall at all that week.

But a chance encounter with a shoe store the night before had changed all of her plans, thrown her out of tandem and left her with an excruciating dilemma on her hands, that she realized would not be remedied if she continued to decorate the interior of her car with her presence.

Resigning herself to her fate, and the wailing it would incite from her grandparents once the invoice arrived with the ludicrous charge, Roxy pushed the driver's side door open and slipped from behind the wheel of the coupe.

She lingered moment, brushing off the front of her cropped, blush pink sweater, scrunching its sleeves up to the elbow, and reaching for the rosette covered handbag that had been tossed into the backseat, quickly tugging as her low-slung jeans started to drift too far south on her slim frame.

As she started to bump the door closed with her backside, a voice, somewhere nearby, called to her.

“Roxy! Hey, Roxy!”

She spun in a circle, before spotting the source, two rows away.

Standing on the running board of his pristine white H2 Hummer, and waving, much as he had at the candy store, was Taj Jackson.

“Taj?” She chuckled as he hopped down and jogged towards her, the pale, army green jacket, he'd tossed on over a black tee and jeans billowing after him like a superhero's cape.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find something to wear to the film screening...” He told her as the two fell in step, heading for the chrome and glass revolving door, marking the entrance of the Galleria.

“Great minds must think alike.” Roxy shook her head, her high ponytail bobbing. “I'm trying to find something,too. Yours truly jumped the gun and bought a pair of shoes, without having a stitch of clothing to wear with it. So I'm hoping I can find an ensemble to coordinate”

“I just need a suit.” Taj allowed her to step up onto the escalator first. “I have quite a few at home, for work of course, but they're not cut the right way to do a 1930s look. I need something double-breasted. All my of suits are single.”

“Well, I'm going to Rewind, that vintage clothing store, but its right down from Debonair. That's a suit store. Gramps buys all his suits there--”

“I'm half your grandfather's age!” Taj declared, the pastel yellow and austere black storefront of Rewind to their far left as they stepped off onto the third floor.

“The point is...” Playfully, Roxy plucked at his ears, as exposed by his pinned back braids, “You can find the cut of suit you need. Regardless of age. Besides, in the thirties, age didn't matter. Everyone who could afford it dressed sharp. Have you decided on a color or pattern?”

Plaits swung as Taj shook his head. “Naw, something dark, maybe some pinstripes. What about you?”

“Dark red or navy blue. I painted myself into that box when I impulse bought a pair of old-fashioned red and blue spectator pumps. They looked like you could have snatched them right off the likes of Joan Crawford or somebody!”

“...he was the Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B....!”

To the sounds of Andrews Sisters crooning, the pair entered the store.

Rewind was not very large, but took great advantage of its space, every possible inch crammed from clothing dating from the turn of the last century to the eighties.

And thankfully, an entire three rows were marked for the nineteen-thirties.

Taking to the first rack available, Roxy began sifting through and scrutinizing garments.

After a few moments, she noticed Taj was still by her side, lip-syncing to the song.

“...he was as busy as a busy bee!....and when he played, he made the company jump...”

She didn't know what surprised her more: that he remained with her, or that he actually knew the words to that WW2-era ditty!

“You don't have to wait on me. I know I'll be a while. You can get your suit--”

“Naw, it's okay, I don't mind. I wanted to talk to you anyway...” Taj murmured as Roxy lifted a red dress, but deeming it as being made in the latter part of the decade instead of the earlier part as she'd have liked it was replaced.

She wanted her costume to reflect the styles of the year that Madness premiered.

“Oh, what about?”

A blue dress, with obvious shoulder pads was refuted, as it was another late-decade creation.

“I think I heard you mention Taryll owed you some money—did he ever pay it back?”

“Ha, that's a laugh!” A polka dotted dress was discarded, as Roxy moved to a second rack. “Taryll Jackson—pay me back? You're too, too funny, Taj! Your brother has owed me money off and on since Ronald Reagan dodged that bullet!”

“What...what did he owe you for...this time?”

“He's memorized the number on my card for Reel to Reel and keeps checking out movies on it. Lies and says he's my boyfriend, so he doesn't have to physically produce the card, and then racks up late fees. I had to pay eighteen dollars the other day because of him!”

Another red dress was considered but cast off, as it was two sizes too large.

“It'd be one thing if he rented the kind of films I like to watch, but it's always those tawdry, gory, naked-body filled horror pictures. One of these days I'm going to hang my size eight and half in his butt and kick the loose change out of him--”

A crisp twenty-dollar bill was being waved under her nose, Taj's arm on her shoulder.

Slowly, Roxy took it, folded it and tucked it away into her front pocket.

“Thank you.”

“No problem...” Taj hesitated, falling back as Roxy moved past him, feeling the fabric of a plaid dress.

It was cheap and scratchy and would likely give her a rash if she chose to wear it.

“Why...why don't you cancel your card for the movie store? I...I can add you on to mine. We have similar interests in the types of films we watch, though I'm mostly based in classic horror and you watch all genres—classic though, and I know you always return what you rent on time. We could share my card...”

“That's sweet of you Taj...” Roxy told him, concentrating on a patch of navy blue in a multicolored rack. “...but that 'sharing' feature is reserved for couples, only. We'd both get the boot if they found we were lying about being a couple--”

“I don't intend to lie about us being a couple.”

Thin brows went up in questioning and abandoning the rack, she spun slowly on her heel to face him.

He still stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jacket, his face set as he returned her gaze solemnly.

“Are you...” Roxy's head cocked slightly as she struggled to find her words. “...saying what I think you're saying, Taj?”

Mimicking her, with his head slanting he stepped towards her until his breaths, warm and smelling of spearmint faintly, blew into her face.

“And what do you think I'm saying, Roxanne?”

Her heart was thudding.

Her heart was thudding so wildly and loudly.

Why couldn't he hear it?

She was staring at his black brogans, heart and head pounding.

For quite a while Roxy had had a crush on Taj. So long, she didn't even remember when it began.

She only knew she'd always gotten a little kick out of speaking with him, chiefly about films, and the way he seemed to be so courteous of her.

How his voice sounded saying her name, how warm his hands always felt when he patted her shoulder or touched her arms. How he smelled sweetly of that coffee-hinted cologne on the rare occasions when he'd hugged her.

But she'd never acted on it, as not only was he a bit older than her, she didn't want to change the dynamic in the little clique she shared with him and his brothers.

Yet, as she stared down, his chest rising and falling in her line of view, why deprive herself of what she wanted? What she had craved for so long, especially during the Mai-Ling Fiasco where she had to let him bounce a while so he wouldn't be on the rebound.

He was so different, so strange, so far apart from any man she'd ever known.

And it was the unfamiliarity in him that endeared him so much to her.

“I...I think you're saying that you...want to...be with me...” She staggered over the words, and for a second, Taj held his breath.

When he spoke, chills lit her.

“I don't want you, Roxanne...I yearn for you.”

Dumbstruck she brought her gaze back to his, meeting his eyes, seeing the flecks of smoky quartz glittering within them.

“I even held off on getting my suit...” He confided, hands grasping her forearms. “...because I wanted to match you...and show we were together.”

Eyes shut and her mouth popped out, as his lips, plump, smooth and tender collided with her forehead.

“Taj...” Roxy whispered, one of his hands releasing her, and he plucked a dress from the rack.

“This is nice...you'd look beautiful in this.”

It was a long moment before she tore her eyes away from that handsome, shining face, to take note of the frock.

And it was a stunner.

A long-sleeved number of heavy navy silk, it was accented by two large buttons, one on the hip, the other on the shoulder in a deep, contrasting red. Above the rounded neckline, the higher one of a red silk jabot stuck out, and from a slit on the bosom, a gauzy red ruffle dangled.

“It is beautiful..” Roxy, dizzy gasped, taking it from him and holding it against herself.

“You get it and everything else you need, hat gloves bag, whatever...” His hand was in his jacket pocket again.

A silver credit card flashed and was pressed into the front pocket the twenty had gone in.

“Taj--” Roxy was cut off as quickly, Taj's mouth brushed hers and she saw stars.

He....he kissed her!

Taj had kissed her!

It seemed so natural.

Jesus, he'd kissed her!

His eyes searched hers again.

“I'm going to run and get my suit. You get what you need. Meet me back at my car. Don't...”

His brow crinkled.

“Don't leave without me, please.”

Her hand was in his, lips pressing each of her knuckles.

And then he was gone pacing towards the door of the shop.

Roxy watched him go, spellbound.

Overhead, the Etta James classic At Last began to play.

And Roxy couldn't have picked a more perfect song to capture that moment, that mood...

Her heart had also been captured, and walked out with Taj Jackson.

A Few Hours Later

Taj's mouth was sweet, so very sweet.

And tasted so ferociously of spearmint, the flavor and aroma close to being overwhelming to Roxy as he bore down on her, arms wrapped around one another, the combined weight of the pair, Taj cradling Roxy across his lap, the end of the dark grey, quilted divan, in the center of Roxy's living room, dipping as it held them. .

Again, an inordinate amount of time had passed, as she reclined in his arms, enjoying the sensation of his pillowy, cloud-like lips pressing hers repeatedly, the moist, minty flick of his tongue intriguing her all the more, but in no way being vulgar.

The sun had been shining when they had entered her apartment, hand in hand, the bags of merchandise for Roxy dangling from Taj's free hand, and now dusk was beginning to coat the landscape stretching beyond her tenth-floor balcony.

There was no sure way to determine whom had started the steamy session.

Just that the bags had been flung onto the low glass-topped coffee table, and there they were.

The band holding Taj's braids back had snapped at some point, allowing the fringe of braids to hide half his face and brush Roxy's forehead each time he hovered over her, his mouth parting from hers only to draw a breath every so often.

He was gentle, so warm, so delicate with her...

His hands, large and soft, rubbing her back, pulling her closer to him, allowing her to inhale his cologne, the musky, heady, pungent aroma, exciting her all the more.

And the excitement was causing a torrent to rise within Roxy Yearwood, and could only be released by one Taj Jackson.

“What are doing....what are you doing...hmmm?”

His bottom lip was sucked in, brows raising behind plaits as Roxy placed smaller, cool hands on his shoulders, feeling so broad and strong through his black tee—when had the green jacket come off—using him bodily for leverage, lifting herself and straddling him, much like the lively stallion he was.

Her hands raked through his braids and now it was her turn to hover, her lip gloss leaving the barest pink, glittery traces across his forehead, shining cheeks and finally his mouth.

His hands circled her slim, bared waist, and he beamed up at her, eyes sparkling, as Roxy's hands dropped to the short hem of her sweater, starting to lift it.

Leaning just far enough so the tip of her nose collided with his, Roxy teased lustily, her intentions as clear as the panes of glass showing the night sky opposite them.

“What do you think?”

As the bottoms of her underwire brassiere cups began to peek out, covered in floral lace, Taj's hands left her hips and covered hers, promptly pulling the cashmere of her sweater back into place.

“No...” Moist lips pecked first her neck and then her cheek, “...I don't want to rush, Roxy...”

His hands fell and lightly patted her backside through her jeans, as unwilling to let him go, she stubbornly threw her arms around his neck, and kissed after his mouth.

“Don't you want to?” Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke off into his face. “Isn't that why we came up here in the first place.... Taj?”

He was so handsome to her, as he smiled wickedly, a nefarious glint to his eyes.

“Of course I want to...you're beautiful...gorgeous, Roxy...”

His hands tightened on her buttocks and he was lifting her off of him.

“But...I want to get to know better first--”

“We've known each other for years!” Roxy cried exasperated and her cheek was pinched with Taj pointing out, his voice soothing,

“That was platonically...We hung out as friends, knew each other because our families are in business together. I want to take my time...spend time with you. Alone, without my brothers underfoot. I've liked you for a very long time, Roxy...I'm just....”

The braided head dipped and his knuckles cracked in his lap.

“I'm just very shy. I just want to make the right moves at the right time...”

Reaching, he plucked a rather large bag, orange with a black face on it, emulating a jack-o-lantern on the front. Digging inside he added, with a glance over his shoulder at Roxy, sinking into the cushions, with a pout,

“You watch all those old films, and I know you like what you see...I want to treat you like the ladies in the films get treated.”

Her own head dipping, Roxy warned,

“Don't you go smashing a grapefruit in my face!”

“I'm a bit too tall and a bit too dark to be James Cagney.” Taj snickered, and removed a slim, black lacquered box from the orange bag.

“This is for you.” It was placed on her lap.

“You...” Roxy gasped, sitting bolt upright and grasping it to keep it from toppling to the floor. “You didn't have to Taj! You already got my costume--”

“I wanted to do it. I saw it and it had your name written all over it.”

With a small click the case was opened, revealing an assortment of vintage-inspired cosmetics, all in black and gold decorated containers.

“Lipstick, eye shadow, blush, and nail polish...” Taj called a finger tip tapping each container.

“Perfect for my little screen siren.”

“Oh, thank you...” Roxy leaned and the two kissed for the umpteenth time, a large hand resting on the back of her neck.

“Roxanne...” Taj called her full name, eyes searching hers a long moment, “I'd like to spend every day with you...after I get off work at the winery, is that alright with you?”

“I'd like that.. a lot” Roxy grinned impishly and he squeezed after her neck lovingly, and started to rise from the couch, and retrieving his jacket from the back of it, flinging it over his arm.

A hand was extended, Roxy taking it, fingers intertwining, and the two started for the door.

“I'll call you in the morning...” Taj vowed, smooching her cheek, “...and I'll be back in the evening.”

“Okay...” Roxy was so star-struck she could hardly see straight.

Taj took a few steps over the threshold and into the hall, stopping, and turning back.

“Do...you know what the night before Halloween is called?” He questioned, flipping his head so the braids cleared his face.

“Yes.” Roxy hung onto the door frame. “It's 'Mischief Night'.When all the kids pull pranks on their neighbors--”

She was interrupted by Taj pressing his thumb to her mouth.

His forehead touched hers and his whispered,

“We can get into some mischief...then.”

And then he was gone, ambling away, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Roxy watched him until he turned the corner at the end of the hall, destined for the elevators.

And collapsed against the door, consumed by flames and her own wanton...

“Three days...” She whispered to herself, eyes aglow in her head.

“Three days...until Mischief Night...and I can get into some 'mischief' with Taj.”

With a saucy toss of her head, Roxy crossed the living room, advanced down the corridor and disappeared into her bedroom, planning for the...consummation of this new, burgeoning relationship.

* * *

Halloween morning dawned clear, bright and decidedly cooler than the days preceding it, as evidenced by the brisk breeze causing the gauzy curtains, framing the opened window of Roxy Yearwood's bedroom and causing them to dance like lazy, sheer ghosts on the valances.

The curtains, in part, curtailed the sunlight, leaving the room in a wonderful, dreamy, semi-gloom.

In the center of the room, the massive bed stood, still and quiet, the young, newly minted couple lay beneath the pintucked comforter, dozing peaceably after a night of much activity.

Propped against the pillows, his head falling back, his braids loose and tousled all over , Taj Jackson snored, so quietly, the noise failed to bother Roxy, her head resting on the greater part of his chest, one of his arms wrapping her possessively.

Despite the lowering temperatures, both bodies in their natural, unclothed states sparkled with a thin sheen of sweat...the result of the 'mischief' they had partaken in.

It was a sweet, in many ways innocent scene, two lovers slumbering after sharing their affection for one another, far away from the modern world...

...if only it had lasted.

“...they did the Mash...the Monster Mash...”

On the bedside table, Taj's latest mobile acquisition, a silver Blackberry, began chiming, its screen lighting up.

“...The Monster Mash...!”

In the bed, over the wild, curly tendrils of his sweetheart, Taj's eyes popped open in confusion, his free hand grabbing the phone, and mashing it to his ear.

“H-Hello?...” He answered, careful to keep his voice at its lowest, seeing Roxy's placid face turned to him, her measured breaths blowing against his nipple.

“Yes...this is Taj Jackson...you've located one? Really? Is it in grey like I asked?”

He fell silent a moment, listening to the voice on the other end, hand stroking after the mangled tendrils.

“...and I can have it for tonight? I don't care what it costs, I need it tonight! Hell yeah, I'll come get it! Yes, Sir! Thank you very, very much!”

With that, the call was disconnected, and Taj lay a moment, the huge, doofy grin of triumph on his face.

“Hey...hey, Pretty Girl...” His hand left the curls tapped the tender cheek. “Roxy?”

“Hmmm?” She murmured somewhere between asleep and awake, her arms tightening as she squeezed against him.

“I...I have to go...right now...” He mumbled, voice falling to deeper octaves of remorse. “I have to do something--”

He watched, chewing on his lips apprehensively, as the dark eyes fluttered then stared up at him.

“Where are you going? I don't want you to go...”

A kiss was planted in the center of his musky chest, and he nearly lost his nerve.

“I have to go to the next town over...Baby...I have something I need to do before we leave for Colton Bluff tonight--”

“What is it?”

She was now pouting up at him, her breaths quickening.

“It's a surprise. I've been working on it all week. It'll knock yours and my brothers' socks all the way off. Trust me...”

Moist lips stamped her forehead.

“You think I'd want to leave you after what we shared last night?”

Roxy was complacent, her mouth curling on the ends, eyes shining, even in the dusk.

“No...” She tittered, Taj flipping the covers back and standing, the room so shadowed his naked form appeared a silhouette.

In the darkness, as he stooped, groping for the plaid boxers that had dissolved from his body the moment he'd entered the room, he paused, feeling Roxy's hand on his back.

“You know...you lied to me, Tariano...” Roxy accused, and the flesh under her palm chilled, with Taj asking, voice cracking with perplexity,

“When did I lie? How?”

A loud snicker filled the room.

“You claimed you were shy...”

On the floor Taj snorted.

“With clothes on...I am. With them off...that's a different story!”

He was on his feet leaning over her, lips seeking out hers.

“I'll be back this afternoon. We'll have the best time tonight...”

“What about your brothers...have you told them about us?” Roxy questioned as Taj jumped into the shorts.

“Not yet...but I will. Can't keep quiet about this kind of miracle.”

“Miracle?” Roxy echoed, more scuffling as Taj collected the rest of his clothing, sweats, socks and sneakers, and crossed the room for the door.

“Yes, miracle!” He repeated emphatically, the door to the hall opening, light striking his face, showing the seriousness of it all.

“All this time...all these years, I didn't think you liked me. I....I hoped you would...”

A hand grasped at his chest with him finishing with a contended sigh,

“To know that you do...I'm so happy...”

He was gone, the door shutting after him.

With a pleased squeal, Roxy punched the mattress and pulled a pillow down over her head.

* * *

That same evening, while the sun was still a few away from beginning it's lazy descent towards the horizon, to meld day with night, a trio of well-dressed individuals called to the eye, on the nearly vacant sidewalk out front of the soaring high-rise of glass and concrete towering over and dwarfing them.

A young woman, flanked by two young men seemed quite overdressed for what should have been a calming, laid-back evening out.

The woman dressed to the nines in a two toned ensemble of a blue silk dress, accented with red in the for of a ruffled blouse peeking saucily from the jabot on her bosom, replete with a small, pancake shaped hat, atop a head of gleaming black waves, culminating in a poof of curls at her slim shoulders. She shifted from one foot to the other, pumps in blue, its toe and hell a contrasting red leather, picking up the same hue in her accessories, the delicate gloves on her small hands and the oversized, red, envelope clutch tucked beneath one arm.

To her left, the taller of the two men, dressed inconspicuously, yet handsomely in a camel brown suit, with a dotted tie and pocket square folded to a peak, tried to hide the fact his wing-tipped shoes were a skosh too tight, and continued to hop from one foot to the next, his face all but hidden by the brim of a pale brown Homburg hat.

To her left, the other gentleman was a touch more fidgety, pacing a few steps here and there, hands shoved into the pockets of a sedate, deep charcoal plaid suit, tassels on his loafers constantly swinging. Every so often, he'd fumble with his felt fedora, readjusting it to just the perfect angle over his right eye.

Fooling with his hat for the umpteenth time, Taryll Jackson remarked to no one in particular,

“What the hell is keeping Taj? I know he asked us to be outside when he came up so we could go to that theatre, but damn it, I'm starting to work a groove into the pavement!”

“He'll be here...” TJ declared absently, producing his Sidekick from a pocket on his jacket, thumbs flying as he began texting. “...it's only a little after five. We're in California, he probably got stuck in a traffic jam or something.”

Taryll was suddenly very close to Roxy, his breaths, smelling of a king-sized Snickers bar she'd watched him devour earlier, puffing on her with such force her curls danced.

“When's the last time you heard from him? I haven't heard Word One since he called me a few hours ago, telling me to be here for five! Here I am! Where is he?”

Head down as she picked through her bag, hunting her phone with the intent of calling him, Roxy replied, with a shrug,

“I'm just as clueless as you. I got the same phone call, and all I know is he got a call early this morning, the sun was barely up, and rushed right out of my apartment, he was so excited about it. Why, I do not know...”

Roxy glanced up at Taryll for a split second and caught the queer expression on his face.

He was staring at her around the brim of his hat, eyes glazed, lips slightly parted, just enough to show the white of his two front teeth.

“What?”

Hazel eyes went unfiltered emerald, as Taryll inquired, his voice raising an octave,

“Taj rushed out your apartment this morning? Did...did Taj spend the night with you last night?”

On the other side of her, TJ's thumbs came to a swift halt and he face came up from the glowing screen, the only link between him and Corrine since she was south of the border, a more exaggerated version of his older sibling's expression on his face, wider eyes, mouth completely open, nostrils flaring.

Realizing her grievous error, too little, too late, it was Roxy's turn to lower her head, inspecting the inside of her purse like she'd never set sight on one before, her mind racing for an explanation to rectify her having outed her relationship with the eldest of the Jackson brothers.

Voice dropping to a bare whisper, Taryll leaned in further to Roxy, his hat bumping hers, the spicy oriental notes of his cologne assaulting her nostrils, he commented,

“I...I thought it was me, you liked, Roxy...not Taj...”

Dumbstruck, Roxy leaned back several inches, solemn, dark eyes meeting turbulent green ones, wanting to say everything and anything to Taryll, but was unable locate appropriate wording.

Not that she would have been heard, as, at that very moment, TJ began crowing as though he'd been told the single funniest joke in the known universe.

Both Taryll and Roxy looked to TJ, who stood, hands mashed to the top of his head, continuing to screech and caterwaul, staring past them, eyes glimmering and huge.

Following his gaze, they soon discovered what all the noise was about.

Along the curb set, a long, vintage car, the likes of which hadn't been on the road since the silent era.

A beauty it was pearl-grey, polished, exquisite, from it's curved fenders and chrome running board to the pristine whitewalls, to the little Lalique glass angel on the hood.

All three watched, TJ still wailing, as the driver's door opened and a very sleek Taj, alighted, leaning against the door.

Roxy's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, matching her in a navy, double-breasted, pinstriped suit, splashes of red in the form of his check on check silk tie and pocket square. And even from where she stood, she could see the mirror-like shine on his blue and white spectators.

Whipping off a blue fedora, revealing braids that had been pulled back into a low ponytail, he indicated the ride with a flourish declaring,

“This is an actual, fully-restored, 1931 Duesenberg Model-J Tourster...I figured if we were going to dress up and look like we were from the thirties, the least I could do was make sure we arrived in style!!!”

“But how...?” Roxy choked as the trio drew closer, all admiring the masterpiece in metal.

“I rented it from a classic car collector...” He looked to Roxy, grabbing for her hand. “That's why I made such a speedy exit this morn...”

Forgetting he was also in the company of his brothers, he burbled, and started,

“Um, Roxy and I--”

“I already...told them.” Roxy informed him unceremoniously, patting at his chest and with a weight off his shoulders, Taj leaned kissing her cheek with a smack.

“I'm glad it's out in the open.” He wore his gratitude as well as his suit.

“Hop in guys, while I was researching directions to the Craven, I learned some interesting stuff about it. I'll tell you all about it as we ride out. Only way I can think to fill a two hour drive in a car with no radio...”

The last thing Roxy saw as she took the large hand offered her by Taj to step up into the front, as he intended her to ride 'shotgun', was the scowl on Taryll Jackson's face as he watched.

A half hour later, the city of Briar Creek was a speck in the distance behind them, nothing but the darkened and winding roads stretching beyond the scope of the lit, floodlights on the front of the Duesy, its interior markedly silent.

The only sounds to be heard was that of the steady, even breathing of TJ and Taryll in the backseat, it was clear both had swiftly dozed off in the coolness of the early nightfall, and the whitewalls crunching over gravel on that hilly, rural lane.

With no seat belts to bind them, Roxy nestled closely to Taj, whom had one hand on the steering wheel, guiding it carefully, as the car was worth more money than he saw in a decade, the fingers of his other intertwined with hers, with her holding his arm around her shoulders, her head propped against his chest, but not so much as to muss her hair.

Shifting on the tan leather seat, with it squeaking a little, Roxy pressed painted, pouted lips to the protruding earlobe, whispering, her voice so femininely deep,

“I thought you were going to tell me something about the Craven Theatre, Tariano.”

Her voice did give him some kind of out the way chills!

“Oh yeah...” He paused long enough to find those lips for an enduring smooch, continuing,

“Well, I've never been to Colton Bluff before, so naturally, I was online hunting directions. I found the directions, of course, or we wouldn't be on the road now, but I also started digging around, doing some light research on the theatre itself, if you will...and I figured it would be right up your alley because it kind of ties into old films, which I know you love, Sugar Baby.”

“Yes?”

“The Craven opened in 1923 and the first movie they ever showed was Safety Last!. Harold Lloyd even showed up for the premiere there--”

“You're kidding!” Roxy snickered into his chest. “He's one of my favorite comedians!”

“I knew you'd like that!” Taj chuckled, “Apparently, outside of Hollywood, The Craven was the place to see and be seen, and so many stars visited for film premieres, you'd probably have a stroke: Bette Davis, Norma Shearer, Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson, Rudolph Valentino...list was a mile long on the forum I was in,”

“That's amazing. I can't believe I'll be walking the same halls and sitting in the same seats as legends!” Roxy was doe eyed, staring up at Taj and even in the dark, he could see them sparkling with astonishment. “And to think the theatre has been open all this time...”

“Now that you mention it, I did read about something weird, well it seemed weird to me, when I was on that forum...”

“Tell, tell!” Roxy encouraged, kissing him again.

“Well, from that I could gather, something happened at the theatre in the early thirties. The site didn't specify exactly what, but it caused a tremendous scandal. Whatever it was, it caused the original owner, Edwin Craven to end his life as a result. I think he OD'd on some sleeping pills or something.”

Again, silence permeated the car, a long while, with Roxy inhaling audibly, to comment,

“You know, you certainly can pick them, Taj Jackson: first we're going to see a film where people were bumping themselves off in droves and now we're seeing it in a theatre who's owner also killed himself--”

“But...but...but...” Taj cautioned, pinching her cheek. “...Mr. Craven's death wasn't a result of him seeing Madness. It was whatever that scandal had been...”

“Who knows...” Roxy shrugged nonchalantly, “Back in those days it could be anything from losing it all to the Depression, to a gambling debt, to being caught sleeping with someone else's wife...”

“Still, I can't help wondering what it was...” Taj repeated and Roxy shot back,

“Just because you're dressed like Nick Charles from The Thin Man doesn't mean you're a detective!”

“You can be my Nora then!”

“I AM your Nora!”

An Hour Later

The Craven Theatre stood to itself on a secluded avenue, surrounded by the decaying remnants of abandoned, defunct businesses and storefronts, blackened with time, falling apart and showing all the telltale signs of disrepair.

It was, indeed, a glowing relic of the past appearing as carefully, and lovingly preserved against the hands of time, as those structures around it had fallen victim to it.

Constructed of smooth, cool limestone, the Craven Theatre was a majestic, overwhelming building, made in the Greek Revival style, it's facade featuring a dozen columns, soaring up its entire three stories flanking the three sets of double doors, atop a huge staircase. The Craven was indeed meant to be a showplace as it was fronted by a fountain, lit by blue lights, a sharp contrast to the white lights flooding the low clipped lawns, water spouting a good ten feet into the air.

“This is a movie theatre? It looks like an opera house!”

TJ Jackson had gasped what was on everyone's minds, even the still sullen and tight-lipped Taryll, as all had disembarked from the Duesy, parked flush against the curb, while Taj, never one to let a photo-op of such generous proportions pass him by, had produced a small digital camera, which flashed numerous times as he took a flurry of photos.

The Theatre, the Duesenberg, his brothers and lover, a few silly portraits of himself.

Nothing posed, all on the fly, as he liked to catch things as they were, not as he wanted them to be.

A quick peek at the watch hugging his wrist by a navy strap, showing that they were still a full fifteen minutes early, Taj suggested, taking Roxy by the hand,

“Let's go in. My tickets are at the box office, and we can get our snacks and pick our seats--”

“Does a place like this sell popcorn or steak dinners?” Taryll scoffed snidely, his envy as visible as the hat on his head, as the foursome fell in step, starting for the door.

Taj said nothing, but threw a scathing, burning glare over his shoulder at his younger sibling as they mounted the stairs, heels clicking.

Roxy peered at Taryll, just long enough to catch him staring at her, eyes blazing bright green, lips tense, clefted chin jutted forward. He was still stewing.

By Taj's hand, the group passed into an open foyer, encompassed of nothing but pure, gleaming white marble, where, immediately to their left in a gilt alcove, a young boy, no older than maybe thirteen, stood at attention. Above his head, in the gold, decorating the small box office nook, was the word Tickets in swirling script that harkened to the invite Taj had so proudly displayed a week ago.

He wore a maroon jacket, it's front boasting many brass buttons and wide golden epaulets weighing slim shoulders down. A matching pillbox hat set atop his straight, stringy, flaxen locks, paler blue eyes peering out at them.

“Welcome to the Craven Theatre, Sir...” He greeted Taj as cheerfully , releasing Roxy, he approached the little window. “How may I help you?”

“I'm Taj Jackson...um, there's supposed to be four tickets here for me and my party. We're here to attend the special screening of Madness.”

“Oh yes , Sir...” The boy beamed broadly, and stooping, was heard digging around out of sight.

“We've been expecting you...”

When he came back into view, four black and gold tickets were clutched in his small, gloved hand.

“Here you are--”

“Do we have enough time to get some snacks and sodas before the film starts?” Taj wondered, taking the tickets and doling them out.

“Yes, Sir.” The boy nodded eagerly, “Before every film there's three cartoon shorts, a travelogue, an installment of The Perils of Pauline, and a newsreel, of course.”

Taj staggered, his thick brows raising in question, “We...we get all that BEFORE the picture starts?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Boy, they really are doing it up like back in the day!” TJ snorted and everyone but the boy chuckled.

“If you go through those doors...”

A pair of tremendous doors, so highly polished with sheets of gilt, they reflected like mirrors, were pointed out,

“You'll see the concession stand and up the stairs is way to the theatre. If you need any help, just look for one of the other fellas dressed like me!”

“Thank you.” Taj was gripping after Roxy's hand again, leading the way.

“Enjoy your show!”

“I can't believe we get to see all of those extras...it's amazing.” Roxy declared, hands to her mouth as they reached the doors.

“I guess that was how they did it back then. We must be getting a taste of what it was really like to go to the theatres seventy years ago. This is even better than I could have imagined!”

Roxy started to agree, but her voice choked off as the door was opened and held for her, more choking, exaggerated inhales and outright swears shook the rafters.

The front lobby of the Craven was, in short, breathtaking.
The lobby wasn’t so much a lobby, but a grand front hall, dressed opulently and ostentatiously in shades of bright red and gleaming gilt.
It was indeed as if Roxy and the Jacksons had entered a grand royal Palace, miles from Colton Bluff, or even the North American continent.
It was regal, royal and screamed of Europe.
The massive hall was carpeted in deep crimson, with the walls papered in a matching shade. from the walls, half columns, painted in that expensive of metallics were lit here and there with three pronged sconces, electrified by flame shaped bulbs. Every few feet, decorative mirrors gave the space the illusion of being even larger.
The hall stretched on for two stories and about a hundred yards in was the lavish staircase.
Carpeted in red as if made for only the feet of royalty, it was trimmed by a gold scrollwork banister curling gracefully as the lines on a woman‘s body, leading up to a majestic fountain.
The fountain, featuring five tiers of dangling crystal prisms and spheres, tinkled in the silent hall, as water spouted from the very top and fell back into a little pool surrounded by fat, naked cherubs playing pan flutes and harps.
A painting behind the fountain featured naked women lounging on the banks of a river with a few more splashing in the water for good measure.
Bending back, they all took in the vaulted ceiling with a mix of a gasp and a scream.
Painstakingly, the entire ceiling had been carved in relief and featured everything from more cherubs to fruits to animals flouncing. Less work had gone into the Sistine Chapel!
Adding to the grandeur, eight huge crystal covered chandeliers, which Roxy later came to the conclusion were shaped, in a way, like female breasts, hung and glittered like balls of diamonds overhead.To the side, as they had been told, an opulent, counter, it's glassed front filled to the brim with boxes and bars of candy, backed by an old-fashioned popcorn machine, the fluffy white kernels being kept warm under a glowing red lamp.

Manning the counter was an older gentleman, perhaps in his early fifties, a crisp white shirt and red bow tie at his throat, offset by his striped apron and folded cap, smiled out at them, and as they approached, a tattoo of an anchor was visible on his left forearm.
“I'm...I'm almost scared to order something to snack on now...” Taryll was heard whispering to TJ, his angered veneer cracking. “They already charge your eyeballs out at a regular theatre. A place like this. I bet a candy bar must be ten dollars! Holy shit!”

“You ain't the only one. Hell, I've been to museums with less artwork than this!' TJ hissed back and Roxy couldn't hide the trembling of her hands, with it actually making Taj's arm jump, as they neared the counter, the scent of butter faint as the lobby was so wide and vast, the aroma pretty much dissipated.

She was wholly captivated and enthralled by such rich, affluent and gorgeous details, but it was a certainty such beauty did not come without a heft price tag, as the upkeep of something to ostentatious had to cost quite a pretty penny.

And it was a widely known fact that any and all theatres price gouged on snacks.

It was just a fact of life one would have to endure if they didn't sneak their own vittles in.

“What can I get for you fine folks this evening?” The old man beamed up at them, his voice with a touch of an Irish accent.

“Um...” Taj paused a moment, and quickly waved the others in to a quick huddle, with them discussing back and forth, a few swear words being exchanged, along with apologies to Roxy for swearing in her presence, as an order was spawned, and everyone agreeing to pool funds to try to cover what was sure to be an exorbitant expense.

Turning back, Taj squared his shoulders, nodded and stated, with an air of authority,

“I'd like to get four Cokes, three large popcorns—I'm sharing with my lady—and eight candy bars: two 5^th Avenues, two Snickers, one Heath, one Good News, and two Paydays, please.”

In rapid succession, the candies, followed by four frosty sodas in glass bottles, lids popped, and huge cardboard cartons of steaming, buttery kernels were placed on the glass counter.

Roxy and the Jacksons each braced for the astounding price, with TJ going so far as to begin hunkering down against the sum.

All four nearly dropped to their knees as the old gent, smile never faltering, told them,

“That'll be a buck twenty-five, please.”

“What the hell?”

“A dollar twenty-five? For all that?”

“Bullshit! Really?”

Eyes bugged and jaws sagged,none of them able to make sense of it all.

Regaining his composure the fastest, Taj pulled two crisp dollar bills from his pocket, asking,

“Is this some kind of special you have going on since you're showing Madness, like 1933 prices or something?”

A strange, peculiar cast came to the old man's eyes and bushy brows came together, with him shaking his head,

“No...them's the usual prices we always have, Sir. Always have been that way.”

The man took the bills and started to the massive, bronze cash register, with Taj calling after him, meekness and confusion struggling in his voice,

“You keep the change, Mister. Thank you. You keep it...”

“Thank you , Sir!”

Taj lingered a moment, head tilting and eyes scanning the ceiling a second time, a tenseness that went unseen, but felt by Roxy, who placed a hand on his back,

“You ready?”

Seeming to come back to Earth, Taj nodded, and the treats were divvied up in silence,with him balancing the four candies for himself and Roxy on top of the popcorn meant for them, leaving her only to carry the two bottles of Coca-Cola.

Behind them, like a pony at a trough, TJ was putting his mouth into his own kernels, chomping away.

“Yes...I hope we get good seats...” He leaned far enough so that his nose bumped hers. “Place probably packed to the gills--”

He got two steps away, and halted when Taryll challenged, own mouth buttery from a dip in his popcorn,

“How? Aside from the ticket vendor, and the soda jerk, I haven't seen anyone else—have you?”

“No....” The word was dragged out with Taj looking at Roxy then back at TJ, already biting into his Payday, crunching on peanuts, with both shaking their heads in the negative.

They hadn't seen anyone else.

“I'll ask—Hey Mist—”

The snack counter was vacant, the old man gone.

Taking a moment to shake whatever trepidation it was that clung to his nearly six-foot figure away, Taj again squared his shoulders, saying aloud,

“Come on, let's go find our seats...I do want to see all of that stuff that's showing before the picture starts...”

The foursome moved across the lobby and up the grand staircase, marked by glinting golden, curlicue banisters, with Taj pausing long enough to snap a photo of the more intricate indoor fountain, all taking the right wing up onto the second level, where of two sets of finely carved double doors, marked in the middle by four crystal sconces, the set furthest away stood open, the only doorways in the long, corridor, feeling chillier than the level below.

Again, as they entered the sweeping theatre, gasps rippled through them.

A cavernous space, lights lowered, only with a few in the recesses of the ceiling showcasing the relief carved walls and huge chandelier overhead, sparkling, there were enough plush red seats, between the floor and second tier to easily seat a thousand...

And yet, it was empty.

Completely, utterly and wholly empty.

Not a soul to be spoken of.

It seemed more a film set than a seating area to merely partake of a film.

It was too beautiful, too grandiose, too good to be true!

Turning slowly Roxy's gaze went up, focusing o the window in the very rear of the room, the projection booth. It was lit, but no one was to be seen.

“Are we really going to be the only ones here?” TJ questioned through a mouthful of kernels. “This is kind of far-out if it's a private screening just for the four of us.”

“Taj did say he was a Platinum member...this is probably one of the perks, a private screening.” Roxy reasoned, only half believing her words, feeling proud nonetheless, their group picking out seats in the center of the third row, Taj on her left, TJ on her right, thankfully, as a bodily buffer between her and still stone-faced Taryll, who looked at her now and again his mouth twisting as though he'd eaten a bucket of lemons, rinds and all.

She did stare around TJ at him a long while.

Perhaps it was her own ignorance to blame, but she had never noticed anything in Taryll's behavior towards her that had ever hinted at his interest in her being beyond platonic friendship.

Sure, he had mooched incessantly since they were in high school, doing everything from swiping french fries off her lunch tray to finishing a half-consumed slushie, to using her video card until Taj had put a swift half to it.

Taryll had acted towards her more like a big brother than a potential suitor, unlike Taj.

Roxy's eyes went to her lap as Taj placed her two 5^th Avenue bars on top of her purse and gloves.

Taj had always been different. Not exactly flirting with her in the traditional sense, but the more she thought of it, the signs had been there, even when she was still in school. As far back as their first meeting when she had been a freshman at the prep school that was all their alma mater and Taj a freshman in college, she could recall Taj quietly going out of his way for her.

Speaking to her about her interests, always putting a hand on her back or shoulder as he conversed with her.

He always did find a way to touch her benignly.

At the realization that Taj had been attracted to her all those years, Roxy turned to him, mouth agape as the lights over them begin to go out row by row, the theatre bathed in darkness, as the heavy velvet curtains on the stage parted, revealing the white silk sheet of the screen, lit from the peephole in the back wall, the opening credits of a Felix the Cat cartoon flickering.

She took in his profile, his cute flat face and little down-turned nose, the puckered lips, bouncing, as he chewed on a Snickers bar, the dimple in his chin prominent.

Noticing he was being watched, Taj mouthed word 'what' at her.

To which 'nothing' was mouthed back, Taj winking at her.

But it wouldn't be long before nothing turned into something...

Something frightening.

A little over an hour later, as a vintage newsreel recounted how famed genius Albert Einstein settled in the United States as a refugee from Nazi Germany, the bottle of frosty soda had worked its way through Roxy Yearwood's system and was begging to be let out.

Poking Taj in the shoulder, she alerted him,

“I'll be right back, I have to powder my nose.”

More concerned with the news, Taj merely nodded, eyes never leaving the screen as Roxy rose, purse in hand and began scooting, first over TJ, who twisted to the side to accommodate her, while Taryll, digging in his popcorn bin, left his knees in her way.

When it became apparent he had no intention of moving for her, Roxy started to inch over his knees.

It wasn't lost on her that he placed a hand on her backside to “help” her along and in response, she knocked the fedora clean off his head and two rows back, with it landing on it's top in the aisle.

“Damn it!”

He cried, but Roxy was already out of reach, heading for the door she'd come through earlier.

Retracing her steps past the intricate fountain, towards the opposite landing, where a gold sign declared “Restrooms” in bold lettering, Roxy couldn't help but notice the austere, invasive and complete silence surrounding her, as even her footfalls were muffled by thick carpeting.

She couldn't even hear the speaking of the newsman's voice over, though the doors to the theatre remained wide open.

It was all so strange and a bit exciting, having the entire theatre to herself, almost as if she owned the place.

And aside from Taryll being in a surly mood, she had been enjoying herself.

The Felix cartoons had been funny, the installment of The Perils of Pauline serial thrilling, even if it were the fifth chapter and she'd had no idea of what had happened previously, the early Technicolor travelogue of Austria had left her contemplating visiting the country the next summer—with Taj in tow—and while the news had been a trifle boring, she found it entertaining, reliving what it was like to be a moviegoer in the thirties.

Just...it was weird being completely alone.

Locating the large oak, swinging door, a pair of pouted lips carved on it, indicating it was for ladies, while the mens had a handlebar mustache on it, Roxy scurried in, to a beige marble and gold wonderland, divided into two parts, large uncut mirror over four gleaming basins, fronting long, low beige divan in the Louis XV style, paintings depicting eighteenth century scenes and landscapes but a blur as Roxy rushed for the door marked “Loo”.

Moments later, she exited feeling refreshed, heading to the nearest mirror to touch her up lipstick.

The tube slipped from her hand and landed in the sink, when she discovered she wasn't by her lonesome.

Sitting in the center of the divan, smiling peacefully up at her, was a little girl.

The child couldn't have been much older than six or seven, and adorable, with platinum blonde hair falling in a short, shingled bob, huge pale blue eyes staring through a thick blunt fringe.

She wore a light pink dotted dress, with frilly socks and patent Mary Janes, a huge matching grosgrain bow on her head.

Retrieving the tube, Roxy raised her hand and waved, the child waving back.

Turning she leaned against the sink asking,

“Are you lost?”

The little head shook and the peachy mouth parted, a soft, timid voice coming out,

“No, Miss. I have to sit here and wait until Rutherford gets done working so we can go home.”

“Who's Rutherford?”

“My big brother!” The girl beamed, showing her two front teeth were missing. “He sells tickets out front!”

So, she was the blond boy's kid sister!

Going over, Roxy sat beside her,

“What's your name? Mine's Roxy.”

“Maggie!” The gap was exposed more as she smiled brighter.

“And how long will your brother have to work? Until the film is over?”

“Yes, Miss.” Maggie bobbed her head again. “I have to stay here so I don't get into any kind of trouble. I fell into the fountain last time and ruined my dress! Mommy was sore at me!”

It just didn't seem right, this child having to sit by herself for the next two hours, all on account of having to wait on her sibling.

Opening her purse, Roxy fished out a dollar and handed it to the little girl.

“I know you have to wait but why don't you go to the candy counter and get you some treats? That'll make the time pass quicker!”

The eyes swelled to the size of saucers with the little girl jumping up eagerly.

“Oh thank you Miss! I've wanted a Three Musketeers since I came in! Thank you!”

In a flash the child was scampering away and Roxy, delighted at her good deed, smiled, getting to her feet.

Once her lips had been recolored, as the popcorn and candy had taken it off, Roxy left the bathroom, intending to make a direct beeline back to the theatre so she wouldn't miss the start of Madness.

“Roxanne.”

A few feet away, just outside of the men's restroom, Taryll loomed in a shadow cast by one of the sconces.

“Yes?” Her voice cracked, as Taryll came closer, staring at her around the brim of his hat.

There was a very clear, somber expression in his entire form, from his drooping shoulders to his tensely set mouth.

He didn't waste time beating about the bush,

“You really went for my brother, instead of me?”

“Yes, Taryll...I did.” Folding her arms over her bosom, she hugged her purse.

He drew closer until he loomed over her.

“And all this time, I thought we were something. I thought we were together. You and me, all these years.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Roxy squinted up at him,

“And how do you figure that? We're friends! That's all we've ever been! You've never once given me any indication that you were interested in anything beyond that. All you did was mooch, mooch, mooch off of me--”

“Bullshit!” Taryll's voice rose, and fresh, redness lit his cheeks and neck. “You knew I wanted you! You knew it! The way I looked at you. The way I hung around you. You knew--”

“I knew nothing!” Roxy retorted hotly, her own temper flaring. “How was I supposed to know? You have a hell of a way of showing it—racking up debts I had to take care of. Taking my food and drinks without asking! Is that your twisted and tumbled idea of flirting? Of wooing? Aldolphe Menjou you are NOT!”

Her head was tossed and if it weren't for the crystal tipped pin skewering it, her hat would have flown off.

“You're supposed to be gentle and kind and be sweet. You're damn near thirty years old! All of this silliness should have been left in high school! Your brother came on treating me properly, he still is, and he is waiting for me to get back, so if you'll excuse me—”

Roxy went to turn and found Taryll's hand crushing her bicep.

“Let go—ow, you're hurting me!” She gasped as she was backed up and pinned against the fluer-de-lis embossed wallpaper. “Have you gone crazy? What are you doing?”

Pink lips curled over white teeth with Taryll sneering,

“You....you can't be with my brother! What about me? What about me? What about what we mean to each other? All those years! All that time—it can't have been for nothing! You can't make a fool of me, not like this!!!”

“Let go of me! Damn you! If I bruise, I'll break your nose!” Roxy threatened starting to squirm, in an effort to pull free.

“What about what we mean--”

“We don't mean a goddamn thing!” She almost shouted, smacking Taryll on the side of the head with her bag, his hat flying. “I am your brother's girlfriend! You had your chance and missed it. I want to be with him. I'm starting to fall in love with him—what are you doing, stop it!”

Lips pushed out, Taryll was trying to come in for kiss.

An all out wrestling match sparked, Taryll grabbing onto both her arms, and pressing her into the wall, Roxy struggling and wiggling with every ounce of strength she could muster.

But with a good six inch and fifty pound difference between the two, Taryll was easily getting the upper hand and said hand found its way on onto Roxy's throat, halfway choking her as she was lifted up on tiptoe against the wall.

“If you don't want me...” Hazel eyes flashed pure green with the insanity of an unrequited love,

“... I'll fix it so my brother doesn't want you!”

Seeing what his dastardly intentions were, Roxy tried to fight harder, with it being all for naught.

“No...!” Roxy moaned, Taryll's mouth forcing its way onto hers, tasting of a mix of popcorn and flat Coke.

And that's when the toe of her pump connected with his groin, felling him like a sack of potatoes, and she nearly fell herself.

“You bitch!”

He gurgled, first landing on his knees, and falling over onto his side, hands holding his tender man bits, as Roxy took flight, getting away from him as quickly as humanly possible.

Reaching the landing she saw a figure in blue descending the steps for the lobby.

“TAJ!”

He barely had time to turn around before he found Roxy clinging to him for dear life.

“Roxy? Roxy? What is it? What's wrong?” The smile on his face faded when he saw what were tears brimming in those big brown eyes. “Are you crying? What's wrong?”

“He attacked me! He attacked me! Oh, Taj, he attacked me! Tried to hurt me!'

“Attacked?” Taj whitened, his hands circling her face. “You were attacked? Are you alright? Who did it? Did you see them, what'd they look like? Are you hurt?Do you need the police? An ambulance? Who was it?”

“It...it....it....” Roxy sank to the stairs , Taj going down with her.

“It was Taryll!”

She buried her face in her hands,

“He...he grabbed me when I came out of the bathroom. He was mad because I chose you over him. Said he was going to make it so you didn't want me anymore! I was so scared! I've...I've never seen him like that. He was crazy...”

Why wasn't Taj on the warpath?

Why wasn't he running away to lay a beating on his brother for trying to compromise her?

Why wasn't he broiling with anger?

Why wasn't he making any noise?

Slowly she dropped her hands, and found Taj Jackson looking upon her with the oddest expression on his face she'd ever seen.

Brows raised, eyes dull, nostrils flaring.

“Don't....don't you believe me?” She whimpered.

He blinked once, his gaze becoming fixed.

His next words chilled her to the bone.

“How can I? When I just left Taryll, not five minutes ago?”

The entire room seemed to spin and Roxy's blood pulsed into her ears.

“You left him? Where?”

“In the theatre! There's a ten minute intermission before the film starts. I'm on a candy run. And I just left Taryll in his damn seat, Roxanne. How could he have attacked you when I just left him—look!”

Reaching into his jacket, Taj came up with a white-gold plated money clip, thick with a roll of bills.

It was Taryll's money clip, which he always carried in lieu of a wallet when he dressed up, his full name, Taryll Adren Jackson, inscribed deeply on the metal.

It wasn't something left lying around; Taryll kept it on his person at all times.

There was no way Taj couldn't have gotten it, unless Taryll had personally handed it to him!

But that was impossible. It had to be. Roxy wasn't blind! Taryll had grabbed her, choked her, made her kiss him, and God knows what else if she hadn't gotten away.

Instantly, Roxy was on her feet, running, running for the open doors of the auditorium.

Through them she sprinted and came to swift stop, her head beginning to pound and her stomach flipping.

In the third row, Taryll reclined, his jacket off, his feet crossed at the ankle and propped on the back of the seat in front of him, with him immersed in playing with his phone, as was TJ beside him, texting wildly.

And...Roxy saw with a gulp, two rows back, Taryll's fedora laid in the aisle...exactly where she had knocked it earlier.

It didn't make sense. She had seen Taryll.

In his full suit, with the hat on his head!

She had knocked it off his head, she knew she had!

But...how did he make it back to his seat ahead of her. He'd have to pass her on the landing.

He'd have had to pass her and Taj on the landing!

A cool sweat started to spring on the back of her neck and roll down her back as Taj stepped beside her.

“Please....please...” She was hoarse, hand coming to her throat, as her vision became spotty.

“Tell me this is some kind of outrageous prank Taj. Taj you've been pulling jokes since I was a kid. This...this was some kind of prank. A joke? You 'punk'd' me—right?”

“Roxanne...” His hand was squeezing her shoulder. “Do you really think I'd send my own brother to assault you? My girlfriend? Harm you? Make you cry? As a joke? And how could he? When I just told you he's been here since you left. You said someone tried to hurt you—did they just look like Taryll?”

Taj was keeping his voice low in an effort not to draw attention and make a bad situation worse.

“Someone who looked exactly like Taryll? Sounded exactly like him? In the exact same suit? Wearing the same funky cologne he applies with a plant sprayer? But it was someone else? Tariano!”

Taj pulled her against himself, whispering rapidly into her ear,

“But you see for yourself he's right there, Roxy! He never moved! He gave me the money to get the second round of snacks! I...I don't want to call you a liar, but how on earth can I believe what you're telling, trying to say my own brother did, when he never moved! Taryll never moved! Unless you're the one trying to prank me and this ain't funny at all!”

“I'M NOT!”

Roxy insisted yanking free of his grasp, her shout drawing the other two heads up from their glowing screens.

“I know what I saw! I know what I felt! I know what happened to me, and you can't make me believe otherwise--”

“But it's ridiculous!” Taj's voice escalating to that amusing shrill decibel. “How could it have happened when I tell you he was right the hell here the whole time!”

“You don't believe me!”

“Roxy!” Hands shook at his sides. “Again I ask you—how can I when he was here the entire time?”

“Are you two alright?”

At the end of the third row, TJ along with Taryll stood, faces searching the quarreling couples'.

“We're fine.” Taj answered sharply, over Roxy, who scowled, but deciding to let the matter drop as she didn't want to cause a scene over something that now had her questioning her own sanity, stared down at her shoes.

“That was three more popcorns, three Cokes, two Paydays and one Heath?”

“Yeah.” His younger siblings chorused, and with a nudge, Taj signaled she sit down.

Roxy watched Taj making his exit, then apprehensively made her way towards the third row.

“I...I heard my name—hey!” Taryll stumbled into TJ, as the light touch he laid on Roxy's arm resulted in her giving him a shove to the guts.

“Just don't touch me....” She pleaded, pushing past the pair of them, for her seat. “Don't touch me, please. It's...it's too weird!”

“Roxy!”

“It's too weird; leave me alone, Taryll! Please.”

Dropping into her seat, she stared defiantly ahead at the screen, pure white with Intermission displayed in decorative, medieval type script.

* * *

“...oh yes! Aha!...I shall make them all rue the day they dared to laugh at me! Aha!...the name 'Dr. Dries van der Pol' shall go down in all of the history books! AHA! Yes! Once my Inter-Cranial Gamma Ray is fully functional, they shall all rue the day....for I shall control them all like the mindless, spineless puppets they are!...”

On the silver screen, a man, appearing in his mid-forties, perhaps, wild-eyed, his grey-streaked dark hair all over his head, his once clean, starched white coat, dirtied and tattered, screamed, gesticulated and gyrated back and forth through his cluttered laboratory, fiddling here and there with an assortment of beaters of various bubbling and smoking liquids, copper coils looping hereto and yonder all at the base of a tremendous, futuristic (for 1933) chrome gun-shaped object, glowing and flashing with lights wrapping every inch of it.

A good half-hour had passed and while Roxy was still quite perplexed as to what exactly had happened to her outside of the Powder Room and exactly whom had assaulted, her, Madness had proven a delightful distraction from the unknown.

She reclined in that plush red seat, Taj's arm draped over her shoulders, holding the striped tub of popcorn in her lap, Taj's free hand falling into it time and again to toss the warm, greasy kernels into his mouth, while in his lap, four candy bars, two 5^th Avenues and two Snickers, sat waiting to be opened and devoured. At her feet, two empty bottles of soda waited to be thrown away.

“...Aha! It's going to rain tomorrow! And perhaps...perhaps if I could harness just enough electricity, I can power my ray—I will power my ray, God as my witness....!”

On the other side of her, TJ was audibly chewing on peanuts, having had a field day buying and enjoying the nickel-apiece Payday candy bars.

She glanced at him, he opened another bar, his seventh she believed, his eyes were trained upwards at the screen, his hat pushed back to the crown of his head.

Her eyes drifted beyond TJ and she found Taryll gazing back at her directly.

He was smiling at her, but not in his usual, self-fulfilled, cocky manner.

No...

He....he appeared remorseful in a way.

His chin dipped a bit, with him sucking in his bottom lip and peering up at her, like a naughty child whom was being scolded.

Was...was he sorry for what had happened?

Had she imagined the whole thing? How? Why?

Had Taryll really been there? Had he attacked her?

But if he had, how had he gotten back into the theatre, pulled off his jacket and thrown his hat to the ground in the exact same spot?

Not to mention having to limp with his private pieces inflamed from a well-placed kick.

She had felled him, left him in a heap on the floor!

And why would he? Although Taryll mooched like it was his middle name, he'd never gone out of his way to mistreat her.

He had always treated her nicely, kindly, been friendly in all ways.

Annoying at times, but friendly

Being mean to women simply was not in his genetic makeup.

It still didn't make sense, and Roxy possesed neither the energy nor the want to encourage the migraine such heavy pondering would produce.

At once, she had the feeling she was being watching and turning back, she found that she was—by Taj.

While Taryll had had his held tilted downwards, Taj's was upwards, with him semi-squinting at her between the gap provided by the brim of his fedora and the bridge of his nose.

Below them his lips were tight, slightly drawn in, making them appear smaller than they truly were.

As she continued to gaze into his face, she observed his small nostrils flaring.

It was an expression she had only seen once before—last night, as he had backed her into her dark bedroom. As the door had been closed, a shaft of light from the hallway had fallen on his face, illuminating the very same expression.

“...Ha! Ha! Aha! Vengeance shall be mine!...”

Her heart fluttered, as Taj shifted in his seat, removing his hat and casting it on the empty one in front of him, Snickers and 5^th Avenues tumbling to the carpet, as he leaned into her.

And he was kissing her, his mouth warm, soft, buttery and a touch on the salty side, from the popcorn.

The arm around her shoulders, once lax, tightened, as Taj moved further over the armrest between them, his kisses becoming more intensive, aggressive, to the point Roxy's lips were beginning to ache dully, their heads bobbing around each other.

But it was a wonderful, exciting pain...everything to Taj excited her.

“Christ, get a room already.” TJ snickered under his breath but went ignored, snacking on another Payday.

Allowing herself to be hugged unflinchingly, Roxy rested her hands on the strong broad shoulders, her entire body quivering as Taj's tongue invaded her mouth, flicking teasingly against hers.

“Ah—Ahem!” Taryll, noticing the conspicuous scene unfolding a few chairs down. “Taj, Roxy, damn!”

“Oh my God...I came to see a horror movie, not a skin flick!” TJ declared a bit louder but was unnoticed, the arm around Roxy's shoulders coming up, the back of her neck flush to the crook of Taj's elbow, his lips slipping off hers.

His cheek was powerfully, blisteringly hot, she noted as he pressed it against her cooler one.

His whisper, equally hot as he implored,

“I...I need you...I need you, Sugar...”

Ducking her head and inhaling more of his manly cologne, Roxy giggled and plucked his earlobe.

“Later...later....I have something special for you...I thought you wanted to see the movie....”

Pulling back in his arms, the smile that had been creasing Roxy's beautiful face, crumbled and fell off.

It was her turn to squint.

There was something strange.... something different about Taj's face.

All of his features were the same, the smooth oval face, the little nose, the luscious lips....

His eyes....

Roxy blinked to ensure her own vision wasn't playing tricks on her.

She'd known Taj since she was fifteen years old; his eyes were brown.

But she could have sworn and been damned that in that instant, his eyes, looking over her slender figure hungrily, ravenously, shone blue!

He...he didn't look himself!

Gone was the attentive, sweet, and cherishing gaze he'd bestowed upon her the past few days since they had become an “item”.

“Taj?” She managed, voice cracking as his hand curled around the ruffle adorning her bosom and yanked her forward, forcing his mouth to hers.

“Taj!”

The popcorn in her lap spilled to the floor, Taj standing partially trying to impose himself on her in the seat.

Even in the darkness with nothing but the flickering images on the screen to light the room, Roxy saw Taj's face darkening as blood rushed his dermis, his face contorting with a sneer as he growled,

“I want you now...not later....fucking now! AND WHEN I SAY NOW, I MEAN RIGHT NOW!”

Shock washed over Roxy, replaced by biting fear, Taj shoving her into her seat so hard it creaked from the force, her spine popping and causing her shriek,

“Taj, no—help! Help me!”

“What the entire hell?”

“Taj, what are you doing? That's a girl!”

“Are you out your damn mind!”

“Taj Jackson!”

It was only seconds before mild aggravation became alarm, Taj mashing down on Roxy's shoulders, and yanking her from the seat with such force, her feet left the floor

“YOU BELONG TO ME! AND WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING, YOU DO IT!”

He bellowed, shaking her wildly, with much more strength than he ever looked to have possessed!

His face! His face!

Where had all that hatred in his bulging eyes, flaring nose, sneering lips come from?

The awful horrendous things he was saying to her!

How could he say such terrible things? Why?

He had no reason to!

“You slut! You whore! Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!”

“You're crazy! Help me! Taryll, TJ! Help me!”

His hands were on her throat starting to squeeze.

“What the fuck? Taj! Let go! Oh my God! She's your girlfriend! Stop it!You're choking your girlfriend! Are you nuts? That's a woman, Taj! You don't put your hands on a woman! ”

“He's choking her!”

“Taj!”

Taryll was desperately pulling and tearing at his brother's fingers under Roxy's waves, mashing so hard her flesh was oozing around his digits!

Her lungs! How they burned!

He was squeezing the life out of her body and the tears from her eyes.

In a last ditch bid to save herself, Roxy slapped Taj many times, to no avail.

He kept on clutching her throat, his brows raised, eyes glassed as he watched her start to weaken.

“He's choking her! Holy shit! Taj stop it! You're hurting her! TAJ!”

While TJ hurdled first over the row ahead of them and back so he stood behind Taj, Taryll took hold of the back of Roxy's dress, a single, firm tug, pulled her from Taj's maniacal clutches, the two of them tumbling out into the aisle, Roxy gasping and coughing as her oxygen deprived lungs suddenly had the precious resource introduced.

Behind him, TJ struggled to subdue his elder sibling, grabbing his striped jacket, but it came off with Taj still advancing, fists curled and waving at his sides.

His face was lethal!

This wasn't her boyfriend.

This wasn't her lover!

This was a monster!

“You fucking whore....always running out on me when I need you most...Cheating on me!”

“What are you talking about?” Roxy shrieked, Taryll jumping to her defense, putting himself bodily between them on the floor, practically sitting on her. “We've only been together four days! I've never cheated! How could I? Taj!”

“Fuck you...you bitch!”

He swiped at Taryll, but luckily, he ducked, avoiding being hit, Roxy screaming.

TJ was not so fortunate.

“Leave her alone!” TJ made the dire mistake of latching onto Taj's left arm, and in one fluid motion, Taj swung in a circle, belting TJ, clipping his chin and spinning him, TJ slumping over the seats of the row in front of them, butt sticking in the air.

“Oh no, TJ!” Roxy bawled, crumpling as Taryll released her, getting on his feet

“Damn all this insanity!” Taryll grunted, and as Taj went to raise a fist to strike a defenseless TJ again, he was caught in a full Nelson.

“Taj! Taj! Taj!” He repeated as Taj began to howl, like a maddened caged beast, wrestling with Taryll so hard, Taryll was lifted from the floor, legs kicking as Taj hunched with him, continuing to cry out the loudest, most deafening, ear-wrenching wail any of them had ever heard.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Taj!” Roxy held her face in her hands sobbing.

“Calm down! What is it! Taj, goddamn it!”

Roxy was frozen as with a sigh, TJ regained consciousness, standing upright, rubbing his sore chin, in time to see Taj, as if losing the use of his legs, collapsing in Taryll's arms, his full weight driving Taryll to the floor.

“He's out cold! What the fuck even was that?” Taryll demanded to the walls, cradling Taj's head in his lap.

“He's pouring sweat! Look!”

“Give him some air! Give him some air!” TJ squatted, loosening Taj's tie and undoing the top buttons on his shirt around his throat

“Taj! Yo! Taj!” Audibly, Taryll was slapping at his brother's clammy cheeks.

“He sweat clean through his shirt, damn! Do you see it! Is it a fever? Is he sick? Should I call Pops?”

As they continued to work to bring Taj to coherence, a loud boom caught Roxy's attention and she stared up at the screen.

Whiiiiiiiiiiir! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiir! Whiiiiiiiiiir!

Dr. van der Pol was firing up his mind-control ray, a solid beam of light blasting from the tip of it.

And it was then Taj's words, a week earlier come flooding back to her.

About how Madness had driven people insane, caused them to commit suicide and other devious acts.

Had...had Taj been one of the victims of the so-called curse of this film?

Hanging onto one of the aisle seats, she pulled herself up, and prepared to demand they leave.

“Aaaaah!”

On the floor, Taj screamed, startling his brothers who also yelled.

“What the devil am I doing on the floor?” Taj grumbled, sitting up, trying to get his bearings.

Even from where she stood, Roxy could see the outline of the tank he wore under his damp silk shirt.

“Bro...what in the hell happened to you?” TJ demanded, he and Taryll each taking one of his arms,

“What are you talking about?” Taj staggered, wiping at his sodden brow.

“You went apeshit and started choking Roxy.”

“I did WHAT?” Taj recoiled looking at his siblings then out to Roxy in the aisle.

“You...you choked me...” She started to well again and Taryll was shoved aside, Taj making a beeline to her, and throwing his arms around her.

“I choked you? I put my hands on you? Oh my God! Roxy. I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!”

“I...I thought you were going to kill me!”

“I'd never!” His arms tightened around her, his breathing erratic as he stroked after her hair.

“I'd never hurt you. Oh Baby! Sugar!”

“You decked me!” TJ simpered.

“Taj, what happened?”

Taj's head came up, from where he had fervently been kissing at the crying face and he could only stare at Taryll.

“I don't know! The last thing I remember is sitting and eating popcorn and then I woke up on the floor! I don't remember a thing...oh Roxy, you know I'd never hurt you! I'm not that kind of man! Oh my God! I'm sorry. To all of you, I'm sorry! ”

“You were so mean, like another person!” Roxy snotted into his chest.

A light bulb went off in her head at that very moment.

Pulling back, she stared into his remorseful, heartbroken face.

“Is it the movie?”

“What?” The brothers chorused, three sets of trimmed brows raising.

“The movie!” Roxy pulled from her lover, explaining, “Taj said Madness was something like cursed! People fleeing the theatre. throwing up, and committing suicide and everything. Look at all the freaky shit that's happened here. I may or may not have been assaulted by Taryll earlier--”

“What the hell?” Taryll gasped, jaw dropping “I...I never left this damn room! I swear on God and Jesus!”

“--and then Taj lost his rabbit-ass mind and tried to choke me! And he doesn't remember a thing! Something weird is happening here. We're the only ones in this theatre except for a few people working. Shit's been hinky ever since we got here! I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home, damn it!”

Small fists began bombarding Taj's heaving chest.

“Take me home, Tariano!”

“Alright!” Taj put hs arms in the air. “Alright. That's enough! Don't cry anymore Roxy. I'm sorry We'll go—TJ, where you going?”

TJ was stepping over the seats into the next row, slipping away.

Over his shoulder he called back,

“It's a two hour drive back to Briar Creek. I've had four Cokes. Let me hit the head and then we can go. Give me five minutes! The world can't end in five minutes! I piss on the side of the road in the dark a coyote will make off with my 'Toblerone'! Five minutes!”

“He would pick now to take a piss!” Taryll grumbled, stooping to retrieve his hat, while Taj picked up his coat and hat, along with TJ's hat, which had flown off in the fray.

“Should...should we wait here? Or go to the lobby?” Roxy murmured, her eyes drifting to the screen where one of Dr. van der Pol's minions was setting himself on fire.

“I'm sure we'll be fine.” Taj kissed her cheek “Five minutes. TJ will take a leak, we'll get the hell out of here and we'll find some dive for nightcap. Lord knows I need some rum shots.”

“You ain't the only one...” Taryll squished his hat on his head, dropping down into the aisle seat. “I could use a few Whiskey Sours.”

“Baby, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you...I promise...” Taj sat a seat over from Taryll, pulling her into his lap. “Want to go to the beach next weekend? You know Pops has a cabin on the beach...Stays there when he goes fishing...”

Taj's voice fell as he began whispering sweet nothings at Roxy to appease her, with her falling into gales of giggles, Taryll rolling his eyes at the couple, removing a Good News from his pocket and starting to open it

“...and maybe we can skinny-dip...” Taj had been cooing, when he was drowned out by Taryll, leaping to his feet, first inhaling then hollering,

“--fuck me gently with a chainsaw! TJ, what are you doing, Man?”

The braided and waved heads, which had been intertwined in an apologetic kiss, came up and both had to blink in astonishment.

At the end of the aisle, TJ Jackson stood...

...naked as the day he'd been born!

There wasn't a stitch on him, just his glossy brown skin, over his slim, muscular physique and a few fuzzy bits, that Roxy made a trained effort to divert her eyes from.

“Is this some kind of sick ass joke?” Taj demanded, standing so swiftly, he nearly threw Roxy on the ground. “What is wrong with you? My girlfriend is here! TJ!”

“Ahahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahahahaahaha! Ahahahahahahahahha!”

The scene on screen, depicting a man descending into utter lunacy, brightened and in the illumination TJ's face was clearly seen.

He wasn't looking at Taryll, still sitting and trying to twist away to keep TJ's private area out his eye line, nor was he looking at Taj calling his name.

“TJ! TJ! Tito Joe—I know hell well you hear me—TJ!”

No... his eyes were fixed on Roxy.

His eyes!

Air popped from her crimson lips as a realization hit her: TJ wore the same crazed expression his brothers had as each had tried to lay hands on her .

“Taj....Taj, he's looking at me!” Was all she could get out as TJ took to moving, leaping over Taryll and starting past Taj arms outstretched. “He's looking—Taj!

“Hey!”

“No! No! No! TJ! No!” Taj was shaking his head, Roxy cowering behind him.

POP!

Taj, slapped directly across the jaw, had been hit with such force his braids, held in a ponytail, came loose as he stumbled back into a seat.

“OW—Bastard!” He cried, trying to get up, as Roxy, left with a nude TJ continuing to advance, turned to flee.

“NO--”

She made it to the far end of the auditorium, when she felt TJ's fist on her back, punching her and propelling her into the paper covered wall with a thud.

“Ugh—Oh, God!” She cried as she was spun to face him. “TJ! No!”

It was only seconds, but his hands were all over her, tugging, yanking, and ripping the very dress from her body, revealing the thirties-inspired satin teddy and lace-trimmed garters she wore beneath it, which had been intended for Taj and only Taj to uncover at a later hour!

“You're hurting me! TJ!”

Reduced to thin blue fabric keeping her from complete nudity, she again found herself being strangled by a unclothed wild man.

“No! No please! Stop it! Taj! Taryll! Please! Someone—STOP HIM!”

“TJ! Stop! The fuck is wrong with you! TJ!”

Roxy her brain and lungs becoming starved of the most precious commodity of oxygen for a the second time in less than twenty minutes, began to sag against the immense pressure TJ's thumbs were imparting on her throat, her vision going hazy, the last thing she figured she'd see before her Maker, was that of TJ's set, serious face.

He was killing her....and watching her slip away.

“He's choking her! Get your goddamned hands off my woman!”

In a flash, Taj, grabbed TJ by his unruly curl on his head and in one motion, flung him out the way and down the aisle, leaving him a pile of flesh that slid, colliding with the stage, where he laid motionless.

“Roxanne!” Taj was on his knees holding her as she hacked, struggling to regain her wind.

Staring up, eyes glassy, he instructed of Taryll peering nervously.

“Hand me my coat! I can't believe he pulled the dress off her! The hell? Three hundred and fifty dollars shot to shit! We're getting out of here! I don't know if its the movie or not, but the bullshit ends here! Right the hell now!”

As Taryll retrieved the jacket, Roxy hugged to Taj, patted his chest in a hurry, pointing towards the screen.

“Look—Taj, look!”

Both he and Taryll, passing off the striped blazer looked to the illuminated silk, in time to see the words THE END flashing.

Madness was over...the film had finally ended.

And on the floor, TJ was stirring.

“Why...why am I naked? Did I just get laid?” He groaned climbing to his feet.

His eyes widened in horror when he saw where he was, and he quickly tried to hide his shame with his hands.

“Hey, what kind of prank is this? Why am I naked? Wh-where's my clothes!”

“You attacked Roxy! Tried to choke her. Damn near got her naked as you!” Taj screamed, hugging her tighter and helping her to her feet, looping the buttons on the blazer to keep it shut.

“Bro! I dont know what happened! I don't know!” He caught Taryll's jacket as ut was hurled to him, tying it so he could hold it to cover his exposed dermis.

“The....the last thing I remember...” He stammered as the trio, cautiously joined him, eyes scanning the rest of the empty seats. “...I was washing my hands, and ...the next thing I know I'm naked as a jaybird out here. How I even get back here? I walked by the lobby with all my ass and junks flapping in the breeze? Oh my God! Corrine would shit a brick if she knew another woman saw me naked!”

he looked to the tear stained face of his friend, shaking his head.

“Roxy...I...I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry. Really I am. I...I don't know....”

“Well, I do know!” Taryll tossed his head, brushing through them. “I'm getting my skinny ass the hell out of here! Hell we all acting crazy like we lost our minds, keeping trying to hurt Roxy, when you know we'd never put hands on a girl! I mean I'm pissed a bit she's with Taj, but I'd rather see her with a jerk I trust than some random jerk I don't know! Something been wonky about this place since we set footy in it! We're hauling ass, come on!”

Taryll Jackson didn't have to repeat himself.

The foursome clustered together and with the open doors of the theatre in sight, they were thrown into each other's arms, an ear-splitting BOOM shook the very ground they stood on.

“Now what the fuck?”

“Shit, I got big ears and that hurt!”

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh my God!” Roxy was practically riding Taj piggy back, as a thick, stifling blackness began billowing through the open doors!

“Smoke! Smoke! Fire! The building's on fire! We're gonna die--”

She was dropped to her feet, Taj gripping her hand so hard it hurt.

His eyes flashed with authority and he grimaced with ardent determination,

“I'll be damned straight to hell if I let anything else happen to you or my brothers!”

Looking to his siblings he instructed,

“Hold hands! We're getting out!”

Taryll took Roxy's other hand with TJ on the tail end, and starting for the doors, Taj gave one last warning,

“Breathe shallow!”

Tentatively, but quickly, they made their way out the doors into the swirling smoke, Taj, hand in front of him, feeling and grabbing among the banister than would lead to the stairs heading for the balcony and the door.

All four was coughing and spitting, eyes watering as they squinted in an effort to keep some sort of vision.

“I can't breathe!”

“Motherfucker! Did a bomb go off?”

“Taj! Taj, I'm scared!”

“I'm scared too, Baby, but you have to keep moving!”

Straightaway, they made it down the stairs and into the main lobby.

The exit and freedom were only a few hundred yards away.

Taryll Jackson suddenly came to a standstill, both tugging Roxy and Taj in front of him back a few paces and causing TJ to bump him from behind.

“Taryll—hack—why'd you stop?” Taj demanded coughing from deep in his chest, free fist to his mouth, and wheezing as he turned back and they all caught sight of the elegant fountain, starting to to be consumed by bright, glowing licking flames.

Taryll was staring at nothing, his eyes huge, mouth agape and so hoarsely, he was barely heard.

“Some...something's got my foot!”

And it was then they heard the weakened plea, even softer than Taryll's frightened announcement.

“Help me....Help me....Please....Love of God...Help me...He's gone crazy!”

It took a bit of squinting and searching but lying on the floor, his hand wrapped around Taryll's ankle, tugging down his grey dress sock, was the elderly candy vendor.

He appeared to have been badly beaten, white hair all over his head, an eye blackened with his mouth and teeth scarlet with blood.

“WHO?” The four chorused as a chilling breeze blew, and immediately all four were frozen.

Standing over the old man was another.

He was older than the Jacksons and Roxy but seemed younger than the man on the floor.

Thought the smoke obscured her view, she could make out a tall, lanky man, in a dark rumpled suit and patent shoes. His hair, more silver than the other man's white, hinting he was perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, was tousled across his forehead.

But it was what the man held in his hands that took Roxy's breath away, all of their breaths, even more than the overwhelming smoke and caused her to dig her nails into Taj's tensed bicep.

Clutched in the man's bruised hands—had he beat the candy seller?—was a gleaming blue steel pistol.

Relief mixed with horror when it was noted that the barrel of the firearm wasn't pointed at any of the four standing...

...it was aimed at the back of the elderly man's head, with him doing a mix of gurgling, with him spitting three of his own teeth out onto the carpet.

The hammer on the gun cocked loudly, and despite straining lungs, the four began pleading and begging.

“Oh God, don't shoot him!”

“Don't kill him! He's already old! Don't kill him!”

“What's he done! You already beat him!”

“Don't do! Please! Don't do it!”

The old man released Taryll's sock and instead tugged on his pant leg, a louder, harsher whisper repeating,

“HELP ME!”

TJ instinctively bent to pull the old man up, but was swayed to leave him be, when the gun was pressed against his bare chest.

“Move kid...” The younger man warned, his voice gruff and gritty as sandpaper.

“Holy s-s-s-shit...” TJ stuttered, and was hugging himself to Taryll, as Roxy was to Taj.

The gun-wielding fiend glanced down at the man cowering pitifully on the floor, his eyes slowly seeking out Roxy, who clung to Taj tighter, her heart pounding in her ears

As he stared at her, her mouth fell open.

His eyes!

They...they were blue! The same haunting shade she had seen flash in Taj's eyes when he had been manhandling her.

What was going on? Who was this madman? Had they entered one of the seven circles of Hell?

The man inhaled deeply adding somberly,

“No one can help this bastard.”

It was then everything seemed to move in slow motion, like a wound down film.

PYOOOOOOOOM!

Taj placed a hand over Roxy's face in an attempt to shield her from the heinous act, with her screaming, as the brothers hollered a barrage of obscenities.

It was no use, as Roxy peered between Taj's smooth fingers, there was a flash as the bullet discharged and while they didn't see the projectile enter the man's head, they did see it exit.

And it was nothing like the movies lied and made it out to be.

There was no little, neat and tidy hole....no.

Instead, the upper left quadrant of the man's head completely disintegrated, blasting off in a gut-wrenching arc of blood, bone and blood matter.

All of which splattered again the lower portion of Taryll's pant leg, the old man dead before he even filly hit the floor.

“FUCK THIS!”

Time sped up again with TJ shrieking, and becoming a brown blur as he bolted away blindly.

Taryll fell back a few steps, staring at his blood-spattered pants, his eyes rolling as he doubled over, just out of sight, regurgitating.

Roxy wept uncontrollably, as Taj held her, seemingly in shock, wheezing heavily, eyes popping out of his head staring down at what was once a man, now only a body.

“He killed him! He killed him! Oh...Taj! He shot him!”

And then they were moving.

There was still a building ablaze and the roof could have very well caved in on them at any moment!

Not to mention a son of a bitch with a loaded gun! Taj held Roxy by one hand and took Taryll by the other, pulling, outright dragging them as he fled, through the smoke, heading for the door.

The door, they located the door, flung it open and threw themselves into the front marble foyer.

More screams shook the rafters.

“Oh no--Taj!”

“Hell naw!”

“I'm gonna puke again! Oh God!”

In the ticket booth, the young boy whom had greeted them just hours ago, slumped at his post, a red, gaping wound in his chest, his hat gone, eyes wide and seeing nothing but oblivion.

Sprawled on the ground in a pool of congealing blood, was the little girl Roxy had given a dollar to for candy.

A hole had been blown in her back...a Three Musketeers still clutched in her tiny fist.

“Move! Goddamn it! Move!” Taj wailed, unceremoniously shoving first Roxy to the doors leading outside, and then Taryll.

“You can blow chunks outside! Move your ass—come on!”

They were running.

All of them running towards the grey Duesenberg on the corner, TJ already in the backseat, holding his face, shoulders visibly shaking as he cried.

“Get in! Get in! Get in!” Taj was shouting so hard he was losing his voice with it starting to crack.

Taryll was shoved into the back with TJ, the front of his shirt dripping with vomit, some drying on his chin, while Roxy was hurried into the front.

“We gotta get out the fuck out of--”

CRACK!!!

The car fell silent, all four turning eyes to the engulfed theatre, its roof caving in, in a mess of splintered wood, leaping, bright orange flames and plumes of black smoke.

They all sat a long moment, staring at what was once the Craven, being reduced to nothing but ashes and devastation.

Then Taj turned the key in the ignition, the car purring to life, and almost stomping the accelerator through the baseboards, the car lurching forward and into the night.

Speeding away from the nightmare.

* * *

“...Roxy?...Roxy?....Roxanne!...”

In the dim haze between the conscious and unconscious, Roxy, curled into a ball in the center of her bed, hugging one of the large, plump pillows to herself, mumbled sleepily at the calling of her name, but refused to stir.

“Roxanne!”

A large hand was planted in the center of her back and began rubbing so hard in an effort to wake her, three of the vertebrae popped.

Slowly, unwillingly her eyes opened, and in the dusk that shrouded the room, she could barely see the outline of a man looming over her.

“Taj?” The name popped from her mouth with a yawn, hastily covered by her hand.

“Yes—Sugar, I need you to get up! It's important! Get up! There's coffee and food in the living room!”

The moistness of his lips was on her forehead, and reluctantly, the covers were thrown back, Roxy lingering on the side of the bed, before feeling in the dark, and taking the same hand that patted her back.

The pair crossed the bedroom, passing through the door and out into the brightly lit hallway, Taj stopping short as he shut the door after them.

He looked quite weary and wool-gathered, with bags that didn't belong below the eyes of a man of only thirty, showing he'd been up all the night long.

His face seemed pale, with it fully revealed, as Taj had taken the fringe the usually hid his eyes and pulled it into a pony tail on top of his head, secured with an elastic.

In fact, his entire body, clad in oversized grey sweats, his feet in contrasting green socks, sagged and hunched with weariness.

In the light, his eyes first searched the oval face peering back at him, waves tousled, makeup slept in, slim body wearing a huge pink sweatshirt with a gap of brown thighs and knees visible, above the thick thermal matching knee-high socks.

“Roxanne...” He whispered, his dark eyes showing more hurt and pain than she'd ever witnessed.

“I want to apologize again for what happened last night. I'd....I'd never put my hands on you...”

The waved head lowered with her nodding in understanding.

“You weren't yourself—”

“I was someone else.” Taj corrected her and she stared at him.

“What?”

His hand was on her bicep tugging her along.

“Come on and I'll explain!”

Roxy skidded along after him out into the living room, where TJ, in maroon sweats lounged in an arm chair and Taryll in navy ones, sat against the far end of the couch, partaking of the mound of Egg McMuffins and coffee on the low table in front of them.

Both looking just as sallow and withdrawn as their eldest sibling.

After their perilous night, Taj had run to the local Walmart and purchased the sweats for all, as no one wanted to remain in the clothing that reminded them of such an ordeal.

(Especially TJ who had been completely nude!)

On the far edge of the table, Taj's clamshell laptop sat closed.

Sitting Roxy down on the opposite end of the divan, and taking the time to hand her breakfast sandwich, he walked to the other side of the coffee table, a hand to his chin, pacing back and forth several times as he tried to find the proper way to express himself.

“Last night...” He began tentatively, “...we were supposed to go and enjoy a free film courtesy of my horror film club on Halloween...”

His chest expanded as he inhaled,

“And...something happened. A lot of really weird, and wild and unexplainable shit went down--”

“You ain't just whistling Dixie!” Taryll interjected somberly, squirting strawberry jam on his McMuffin, Roxy and TJ glancing at him.

“The whole thing with each of us trying to attack, harm, assault Roxy....”

Heads drooped with remorse, Taj adding,

“When we know full well we'd never raise our hands against a woman. We weren't brought up that way. We respect women. We don't do that....”

“Hell no.” TJ intoned, tilting coffee to his mouth.

Taj chewed on his bottom lip a second.

“I was half tempted to call the police, the fire department, somebody about last night. I mean, we left a goddamn bloodbath and raging inferno, but everything just seemed so off, the more and more I thought about it.”

The braids atop his head quivered as he took another deep breath.

“A huge, vintage theatre, that looked something out the movies itself, and only occupied by four people, aside from us—the boy in the ticket booth, a little girl, the old man and that bastard with the gun.”

“Lord, don't remind me!” Taryll gagged, but kept the contents of his stomach to himself. “I'll never get over that.”

“None of us will.” Roxy agreed leadenly.

“I got online and shook out every website I could get my hands on seeing what I could find out about the Craven and Madness...anything that could explain what the hell happened to us. Why were all tried to do something to Roxy and then had no recollection of it...”

Hands fell to his hips and his head shook, with him struggling within himself, nostrils flaring.

“I was up all night...and the thing is...the thing is....”

His hands went to his head, in disbelief, eyes widening,

“We were all looking at the wrong thing!”

Frowns of misunderstanding were shared all around.

“Wait a minute...” TJ was flagging at his sibling. “What do you mean we were looking at the wrong thing? I saw the opening credits of the movie. It was Madness by Florenz Hahn. I read it in big, boxcar letters myself! I can read --”

“No...no...no....” Taj's head was wagging, hands up in front of him. “We did see the right film. We did see Madness--”

“Then what are you talking about?” Polishing off one McMuffin, Taryll reached for a second.

It tumbled and bounced on the floor as Taj's voice dropped,

“We spent all our time hyped about the legend surrounding the film—the vomiting, the people fleeing, the suicides. But it wasn't the film that got us....it was the theatre!”

The three listening gasped, jaws tumbling, half a macerated hash brown falling from TJ's into his lap.

“Taj...” Roxy leaned over her knees, rapt and spellbound. “What do you mean?”

Lips sucked in grimly, Taj turned his back to them, shifting one from one leg to the next, slim glutes rippling under the cotton of his sweatpants.

When he turned back, Roxy climbed to her feet in alarm.

Taj's cheeks were damp and glistening, tears running from reddening eyes and meeting underneath his chin.

“Taj—what is it?” Roxy was instantly wrapped around him, hugging him and rubbing at his face.

Taryll and TJ stood, but remained at their respective spots as Taj sniffled loudly.

“Something happened last night. Something I can't explain. Something I don't think anyone can explain.”

“Tell us! Taj, please!” Roxy begged, pecking at his mouth, lips quivering as he began to tremble in her arms. “Taj, what is it? Tell me! Tell us!”

“I...I can't tell you....” Taj choked.

“I have to show you. We have to go to back to The Craven.”

Everyone in the room recoiled noisily,

“Go back? To that place?”

“Are you out your fucking skull?”

“I always knew those damn braids were too tight on your head!”

“You're nuts!”

“We just barely made it away with our lives!”

“Did you not see my naked ass run out of there!”

“Tariano!”

“WE'RE GOING BACK!”

Taj's voice sliced over the din of naysayers and drew worried silence.

Pulling from Roxy and bending, he picked up a pair of Nikes lined along with the two new pairs for his siblings, slipping them on.

“I'll be down in the Hummer... you want an answer to this mess. I suggest you be down in my car in ten minutes.”

Shoes tied, Taj stormed from the apartment without so much as a backwards glance.

Roxy, shaking in her knee socks stared at the closed door, announcing to her companions with a flip of her head,

“I guess we're going back. Let me get my shoes...”

* * *

“What the entire hell?”

“I'll be damned!”

“Hell no!”

Two hours later, Taj Jackson's gleaming white Hummer sat along the same curb the borrowed grey Duesenberg had, less than twelve hours before, with one glaring exception.

An exception that produced a variety of reactions all caused by outright, overwhelming, all consuming shock, disbelief and shattered illusions.

TJ crouched down on the sidewalk, hands to the sides of his face, mouth wide open, eyes bugged , visibly shaking.

Taryll backed up against the side of the SUV, color draining for him and leaving him pale as snow, eyes squinched shut against the sight in front of him, head whipping from side to side as he blatantly refused to believe it.

Roxy, legs failing her, sat on the pavement, gripping Taj's pant leg weakly, breathing raggedly, staring.

Staring at the fountain that marked the entrance of The Craven Theatre, still spewing blue-tinted water into the air, before the grand marble stair.

A grand marble stair that led to...

Nothing.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Only what appeared the long burned, blackened and aged skeleton of what had once been a great, grand movie house .

A movie house that, somehow, someway by some form of providence, had existed the night before.

With out awaiting an inquiry, Taj took several paced forward, pulling from his girlfriend's grasp.

“After we got back to Roxy's place, and the rest of you had gone to sleep, I called up the headquarters for Flicker Fright, to ask them about the invite to see Madness. According to them, no such invite was ever sent out.”

“What?” Roxy stared at the back of his braided head, while TJ sat on his knees, Taryll in the background rubbing his forehead and staring up at the cloudy sky.

“As far as they knew, Madness was a lost film. Any and all copies of it were lost during World War Two. Florenz Hahn was Jewish, I assume the Nazis did away with his accomplishments, just as they did him and his wife.”

“But we watched the film last night, Taj! Damn it! I saw it! You saw it! We all did!” Roxy felt as though she were losing her mind.

Nothing made sense.

Would anything ever make sense again?

How did they see a film that was lost?

“I started reading into the Craven—Roxy I drank your whole bottle of merlot, I'll replace it—and I found out something that made a shot of wine come out my nose.”

Taj faced them, hands wringing in front of himself.

“Yesterday I mentioned that the owner of the Craven committed suicide, following a scandal, but I didn't know what the scandal was. Any of you remember that?”

“Yeah, you said that as we drove up.” Taryll chimed in, head lowering, face tight.

“I found out what the scandal was.”

A hand indicated the rubble.

“This Halloween marked the seventieth anniversary of the Massacre of the Craven Theatre.”

“Massacre?” TJ echoed, brows raising as Taj nodded.

“Yes...early on October of 1933, a man named Yancy Doherty had separated from his wife, Emma. Their marriage had been on the rocks for ages. Yancy was a drunkard and his wife had been his favorite target to vent his frustrations, after he was laid off because of The Depression...”

Roxy climbed to her feet, followed by TJ, while Taryll continued to brace against the Hummer.

“In the weeks following the split, Yancy tried to reconcile with Emma, but she wasn't having it. Finally Halloween came around....”

Fists balled and shaking, Taj couldn't bear to look his companions anymore and faced the charred remains of the Craven.

“Yancy and Emma had two children, a son, Rutherford, and a daughter, Maggie.”

At the mention of the names of the children, Roxy's knees buckled and TJ managed to grab her before she sank to the ground once more.

Struck speechless Roxy's mind burned.

The...the little girl she had given the dollar for candy to! She'd said her name was Maggie. Said her brother's name was Rutherford!

But how! Sweet Jesus, how!

“...Rutherford was only thirteen and at the time, the only one in the Doherty family with a steady job...as a ticket vendor...”

“No! I don't believe it! I....I can't!” Waving his hands over his head, Taryll started down the street,

“I can't do this!”

Taryll stopped at the corner, raking his hands through his hair,a few hundred yards away, but in the empty hamlet, he was well withing in earshot of Taj.

Roxy clung to TJ for dear life

Undaunted, Taj continued.

“Around ten o'clock that night, Emma arrived with five-year-old Maggie, initially to wait out the last showing of Madness, so she could take Rutherford on home, but went ahead and bought a ticket to the film, for her and the little girl, what she didn't know was that Yancy, drunk, of course, had followed her to the theatre. Shortly after the film started, Emma took Maggie to the bathroom. Outside the ladies' room, Yancy accosted her for the first of three times that would occur in the next two hours.”

On the corner, Taryll spun, with him staring directly at Roxy, her staring back, both speechless

“Oh God.” TJ murmured.

“Emma fearing Yancy would kidnap Maggie, told her to stay in the bathroom until she came back for her. The couple were heard arguing but Yancy did eventually leave, and from all accounts Emma went back to finish the film in an effort to keep Yancy from looking for Maggie in the bathroom.”

A warm hand stroked at Roxy's head.

“Yancy came back to the theatre twice. Both were physical altercations....”

His eyes met Roxy's .

“He tried to strangle her both times. The second time...”

His eyes went up to TJ's above the waved head.

“Yancy was stark naked!”

TJ made a deep, guttural noise, moving forward and sagged against his brother, head on his shoulder

Eyes shutting Taj spoke through grit teeth.

“The only man on the premises was the elderly man who worked the concession stand, and also ran the movies during the late shift. A seventy-year-old man named Johann Bass, who did throw Yancy out. But that wasn't the last anyone heard of him. Yancy left but a short while later he returned, seeking out his wife, who had returned to the bathroom to check on Maggie. He followed Emma in the bathroom, and shot her, killing her instantly in front of Maggie, who ran to try to get to her brother.He threw a lt match in the waste bin, starting the fire he interned to cover his tracks. Yancy then followed Maggie, shooting her out in the foyer and her brother in the ticket booth. They died right away too.

Johann, hearing the commotion ran to see, but it was too late, and not wanting to leaving a witness behind, Yancy, being cowardly, first beat the old man, then sh....sh....sh...”

Taj shuddered, throwing his arms around both TJ and Roxy, weeping,

“He shot the old man! And the bastard didn't even serve any time for the murders. Rigth as police got to the scene, Yancy stood on the steps, and shot himself!”

There was more hugging as Taryll sprinted back, joining the embrace, each gripping after the other for a very, very long time

The silence was finally broken by Taj concluding,

“Mr. Craven was so distraught over the entire tragedy, he took his own life, unable to believe some so horrible could happen in a place meant for fun and enjoyment. He blamed himself, saying if he'd been at the theatre that night, no one would have died.”

“But Taj...” Taryll, face scarlet, a tear falling, whispered,

“Were we really here? Why? What brought us here? Why us? Of all people? I refuse to believe I was possessed by some ghost of some murderer!”

“How else can you explain it then?” Taj went on the defensive.

“None of us were ourselves, tried to harm Roxy” His voice broke and he pulled her to him.

“I don't know why, maybe we'll never know why we were chosen to be here Why we were chosen to witness this. Why it chose to play itself out to the four of us--”

“Do...do we tell someone? Pops? Uncle Michael?” TJ was timid, nibbling at his fingernails.

“And tell them what, TJ? 'Hey Pops, we got possessed by the spirit of a dude who died seventy years ago'? We'd get thrown in the Loony Bin so fast--”

“We have proof, our tickets! We were here!” Taryll suggested and Taj shook his head.

“I burned that shit. I was too scared to have it near me last night!”

“Damn you, Taj!” Taryll screamed, giving him a shove and being shoved back. “That was all we had! I can't believe--”

“Don't fight, please!” Roxy pleaded, throwing herself between them, before pointing out,

“Taj, you took pictures! You took a lot!”

She was shut down by Taj shaking his head.

“I looked all through my roll for the pictures. Everything came out black. Pitch black!”

“No.” Roxy's held her face in her hands.

No pictures? Not a single one?

Moving from them, TJ reasoned in a hollow tone,

“What if we were never really here?”

All eyes turned to the youngest Jackson, squinting at the ruins.

“What if it was some big, shared nightmare? Just really vivid. I mean it was Halloween. Look at the theatre, what's left anyway. Think about it. It's impossible the place was restored to its former glory, by what? Ghosts? Demons? What is this? The X-Files? I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of--”

“...Baby, turn around and let me see that sexy body go bump, bump, bump...”

At the sound of upbeat R&B music playing TJ went rigid all over.

“God in Heaven!”

“Now, what?” Taj looked to him curiously as the music continued playing somewhere in the distance.

Hand clutching his chest, TJ wheezed.

“That song! That's B2K's Bump, Bump, Bump. I changed that to be the ringtone for Corrine when she calls me! Oh my God! I changed it while I was in the bathroom...before....before I came back naked!Lord!”

Overhead, the clouds parted, and at the very top of the stairs, something glinted.

“The hell...” TJ started, and a hand clapped to his mouth.

His other hand raised pointing.

Taj, Roxy, and Taryll followed his extended finger, and observed an object that sent the four of them tearing away in a tangle of arms and legs, diving into the Hummer and roaring away, screams being heard for blocks.

An object that was the proof that they had been there, that they had been party to a misaligned anniversary of sorts.

Very carefully positioned at the very top of the stairs of what was once the Craven Theatre, was TJ Jackson's metallic blue Sidekick.

That same same afternoon, Taj Jackson canceled his subscription to Flicker Fright.

They had all had enough fright to last several lifetimes...

...and afterlives.