Read Online October Girls: Crystal & Bone by L C Glazebrook - Free Book Online

The agent had called
him
. For the past three years, Dempsey had sent clips and tapes and YouTube links to every agent in Hollywood and hadn’t received so much as a letter from the legal department. Then, out of the blue, the agent called and greenlighted an original horror production.
    Dempsey finished the call-and-response chant. “In the name of Royce, we open our souls.”
    “In the name of Royce,” they echoed.
    Zombies. He’d always wanted a captive audience. One way or another.
    The movie was ending, the creepy but monotonous synthesizer score heralding the credits. The names scrolled over a still frame of the water, on which floated the vanquished evil creature. It looked like a trash bag on a lake. But it wasn’t the image that mattered, it was the substance.
    In the movie business, credits were candy. Even caterers and hairdressers got their names listed. But not many people got their names in big letters.
    The world will know Dempsey Van Heusen, and all will shudder in my shadow. Shyamalan, Cameron, Howard, and Spielberg, prepare to eat my shorts.
    When it came to hobbies, the mindless pursuit of fame, fortune, and power beat the hell out of stamp collecting.
    “In the name of Royce, we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming,” Dempsey said, the line that broke the spell and returned his acolytes to their normal state of consciousness—such as it was.
    “Whoa,” Snake said, still blinking. “Where am I?”
    “Paradise,” Dempsey said. “Now come grab copies of my movies to give to all your friends. Then I have to call my agent. Did I tell you I had an agent?”
    “Only six times,” Lacey said.
    “Seven. I’ve got an agent.”

Chapter 8
     
    C rystal wrinkled her nose.
    She wasn’t sure if Momma’s latest concoction would grow hair on the ghost of Winston Churchill, but it sure would keep nostril hairs in check. Maybe Dempsey could use some of this. It smelled of ammonia, vinegar, rat poison, and one of Fatback Bob’s scrambled-egg farts.
    The shower curtain fluttered, nearly causing her to drop the glass beaker.
    “Darn you, Bone,” Crystal said.
    “You love it when I spy on you,” came Bone’s voice from the tub. “Hey, there’s some nice reverb in here.”
    Bone broke into song, a twangy version of Taylor Swift’s “You Belong to Me.”
    When she wailed the chorus, Crystal cut in. “That song’s a lot creepier coming from a ghost.”
    Bone went solid, parting the translucent shower curtain. She was naked behind it.
    “Uh, you forgot something,” Crystal said.
    “Give me a break. You’ve seen it all before.”
    “Yeah, but we’re older now.”
    “You’re just jealous because I got a better rack than you.”
    “At least mine’s getting used.”
    “Ouch. Anyway, there are no malls in Darkmeet. It’s either hooded robes or cobwebs.”
    Crystal tossed her a towel. Bone caught it, releasing the curtain, and Crystal tried not to compare.
    She’s dead. No contest.
    Growing up, they’d examined their bodies in innocent exuberance and scientific curiosity, pinching the odd lumps and new growth. It had become awkward when the first pubic hairs sprouted, and then they’d learned about lesbians, and everything got weird. Church people said it was wrong. So they learned shame and stopped.
    Now Crystal was ashamed of being ashamed.
    “So, how are things over here?” Bone said, wrapping the towel around her body.
    “I’m doing all right, but Mom’s up to something.”
    “Your mom’s always up to something.”
    Crystal held the beaker and its skanky contents aloft. “But usually you can see right through it. And her.”
    “Channeling Marlon Brandon again?”
    “Worse than that. She’s got this idea that the end of the world is coming.”
    “The end of the world is
always
coming.”
    “Yeah, but, like,
Thursday
?”
    “We need to talk about that,” Bone said.
    “Don’t tell me you lost faith. I thought you were getting along great over there. Making