“Unfortunately, yes. He’s dressed as Mr. Rogers because he also hosts a puppet-based children’s show and I guess his imagination is temporarily impaired,” Gretel said.
“Hi there,” Everett said, holding out a hand, less because he cared about a proper formal introduction and more because he couldn’t go even a second longer without touching Teddy’s skin. She stared back at his hand and then finally gave him hers. He held it for a few seconds more than he really needed to, memorizing the feeling of her fingers, soft and smooth, and letting his mind wander to wonder what the rest of her skin felt like.
Inappropriate train of thought while my kid sister stands beside me, he reminded himself.
But there it was again. That feeling of home, the feeling that they must have met before, although he couldn’t place her. It must have been the mask covering the top half of her face. He’d always made fun of the idea that Superman’s coworkers didn’t recognize him as Clark Kent without his glasses, but he truly couldn’t figure out who this woman was.
“Do we know each other?” he asked, and finally, she spoke.
“No,” she said, her voice like warm maple syrup. “I don’t believe we do.”
“Well,” he said, now feeling like his entire body was made of warm maple syrup, “it’s very nice to meet you, Teddy.”
Her smile was a bit shaky. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Everett.”
They stood there, smiling at each other. Everett felt like he should say something, but this seemed better, somehow. Maybe he could skip the rest of HighBall and simply stare at Teddy for the remainder of the evening.
But Gretel’s voice snapped him out of it. “Everett. Staring is rude.”
Everett shook his head. “Right. Can I . . . buy this?”
Teddy’s smile widened. “That’s what I’m here for.”
He shoved Gobo at her.
“Did you see the Muppets glasses we have?” she asked, gesturing to the case behind her.
“Uh, yeah, actually . . . I have those already.”
“He has multiple sets,” Gretel said, leaning forward as if she were telling Teddy a particularly scandalous secret.
“Okay,” Everett said with a laugh as he put an arm around Gretel and squeezed her shoulder hard enough to, he hoped, communicate that she needed to stop talking. This woman might not recognize him from TV, and she might actually think he was a normal person, one who didn’t own more than one set of Muppets glasses from the 1980s (because what if one broke?).
Teddy bit her lip as she placed Gobo into a bag. “Well, I can see why you’d want to have a backup set. They’re very nice glasses, and what if one broke?”
Everett felt his mouth drop open. Gretel reached up and pushed it closed. “You’re still being weird,” she hissed.
Everett couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of Teddy’s face. He knew that he knew her, but how? He rarely left the house unless he was at work, and she clearly wasn’t Jeremy, Astrid, or Tom, none of whom would ever dress as a sexy devil.
He gave Teddy his credit card and kept watching her. She handed it back to him, then gave him a bag. “Here you go!” she said brightly, her big eyes looking back at him from underneath her mask. “I like the costume, by the way.”
Gretel scoffed. “He literally just pulled a cardigan out of his closet.”
“Well.” Teddy gestured to herself. “I’m wearing one of my roommate’s old costumes, so I’m not really in a place to judge. Not my most creative year, but I’m used to coming up with couples costumes, and, um . . .”
Her face got red again as she trailed off.
“So you’re saying there’s not a Mr. Devil around here somewhere,” Everett said, leaning against the counter.
Teddy pressed her lips together, looking as if she was trying not to laugh. “No. There isn’t.”
“This can’t be happening,” Gretel muttered.
Suddenly, Prince’s “Take Me with U” started playing. Everett looked toward the ceiling, as if questioning the speakers. “This isn’t very spooky,” he said.
“It’s certainly no ‘Monster Mash,’” Teddy said. “But my boss loves Prince, so she put him on the HighBall playlist.”
Prince. Something caught in Everett’s mind. A memory. A song. A face. And then it dawned on him. . . .
“Karaoke!” Everett shouted. The man working at the other cash register looked at him in alarm.
“Sorry,” Everett said to him. “Didn’t mean for that to come out so loud. I just realized . . . you’re Karaoke Girl.”
“What?” Teddy asked, her warm maple syrup voice suddenly high and squeaky.
“Wait,” Gretel said, disappointment on her face. “Don’t tell me you guys know each other. Ugh. Teddy, you can do better.”
“This is blatant disrespect and I’m going to take you home,” Everett told Gretel, and then to Teddy, “You were at karaoke that night, weren’t you? You sang ‘We Belong’ and then told me you had to throw up?”
“Um . . . ,” she said, glancing toward her coworker, who was now openly watching them and ignoring the customer in front of him.
“Oh. No. Sorry. I mean . . . that probably wasn’t you. Just . . . some other girl who looked a little bit like you, but now that I . . .” He squinted and tilted his head. “Yeah, now that I look at you, I can see that I’m wrong. Clearly not you.”
Teddy sighed and, with a little laugh, said, “Okay, okay, okay! It was me. I’m Karaoke Puke Girl.”
“Oh.” Everett felt a smile spread across his face.
“Not my best night,” she said, still looking at him from underneath that mask.
“It was . . . actually not that bad for me, now that I’m thinking about it,” Everett said, leaning against the counter. Behind him, someone cleared their throat. Everett turned around to see an impatient SpongeBob SquarePants staring at him. Quietly, Everett said, “Listen, SpongeBob, can you give me a second? Long story but I’m reconnecting with someone.”
“I don’t care,” SpongeBob said, but Everett didn’t hear him, because in the process of turning around, he’d noticed that Gretel was no longer standing beside him.
“Oh, no. Gretel?”
Teddy frowned and peered around the store. “She was just here.”
“Shit,” Everett said, glancing between the front door and Teddy. “I have to go find her but I . . . um . . . I’ll see you later, okay?”