The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

Deepening the Talent Pool

Previously: "This Old Man" 

The problem with getting a mask onto Andrea Varnsworth, you've thought ever since you turned your mind to it, is getting close to her. She's not going to go off alone with either Gary Chen or Joe Thomason, and if she sees either of them coming for her when she's alone, she's going to think the worst and act accordingly.

But you had a similar problem with Javits, and that worked out because you had an extra disguise laying around. You still have it laying around.

"So here's what you're gonna do," you tell Thomason when you rendezvous with him at eight o'clock Sunday morning at the high school. "You're going to unlock that natatorium over there with this key here, and go inside with this backpack here." You hand him the key and backpack while pointing. "Ours are the only cars here, so probably Andrea isn't in there. But if she is, you tell her you've got the stuff that Chelsea asked you to deliver."

"What stuff is that?"

"Cheerleader stuff. Like, a packet of information or— I dunno. Just tell her it's cheerleader shit. Andrea's probably going to be confused, ask you what you're talking about. Then you get confused and ask her if Chelsea talked to her. She'll probably say 'no', and then you can sigh and cuss out Chelsea. Just repeat that Chelsea sent some stuff over for Andrea. Make sure Andrea gets out of the pool or comes over to get it, tell her something about how there's something she has to sign, because Chelsea's this obsessive cunt or something. Anyway, just get Andrea close to you. When she's right up close to you, you take this mask out of the bag—" You open the backpack and half-pull the mask out. "You pull it out and jam it fast onto her face. Don't give her a chance to look at it, just get it on her. She'll faint or pass out, and you catch her and set her down." You stare at him. "Can you do that without fucking up?"

"I think so," he says, but you walk him through it a couple of times. Then you send him to the natatorium while you lurk by the tennis courts.

He comes out only a minute later. "She's not there."

"Okay, Plan B. Gimme your phone. I'll be back in twenty minutes." Thomason looks a little lost, but remains where he is as you jump into your Jeep.

You only go a few blocks, around the corner where you can park without being hassled. From your backpack you pull out the Chelsea mask that you and Caleb used to catch Seth. After pulling off Chen's mask, you put it to your face.

* * * * *

"Yeah?" Andrea Varnsworth's tone is tentative, guarded, suspicious.

"Andrea, thank God you picked up," you gush. "I was sure you wouldn't because—Well, I can't say anything because he's standing right here, but you saw his name and number on your phone, right? Anyway, how are you? Where are you?"

A pause. "Who is this?"

You gasp. Probably Chelsea would gasp in answer to question, but in your case the surprise at your voice not being recognized is genuine. "This is Chelsea! Chelsea Cooper! You know, from school? I'm sorry I'm calling you this early, but are you up at the school? I heard you like to swim up there on weekends."

"Yeah. No, I'm not."

"Well, that's too bad, because I know you don't want this guy coming out to your house. Can you meet him up at the school? Will you be going swimming anyway?"

"Chelsea, what are you talking about?"

"I've got some stuff here for you, cheerleader stuff, like a packet for signing up, and the requirements. I'd really like you to look them over because I want you to try out for the squad. Hello?" you add when the line seems to go dead.

"I'm not interested."

"What do you mean you're not interested? Don't say that, I'm counting on you, Andrea!"

You've no idea if this is the way that Chelsea talks or treats people, but it's the way you imagine her doing it. Maybe it's the boobs helping you get into character. You really like the feel of the taut and firm boob under your left palm as you plead with Andrea.

"I'm not trying out for the squad. I'm not interested and it conflicts with—"

"But would you just look over the material? I'm desperate, Andrea! Coach, uh, Tesla has been riding me about getting some new people on the squad, I told her I'd talk to you and she said that was fantastic! Would you please just look at the package, just take it? You'd have to sign for it, don't ask me about all the legal thingamajigs and doohickeys, but if you get the package you have to sign a piece of paper that says you do. And then I could just show Coach Tesla that you're thinking about it, and that's all."

"I'm not signing anything that has to do with—"

"You're not joining the team, like I said, it's like when the UPS man gives you a package, you have to sign for it. That's all, I promise!"

She sighs deeply and unhappily. "Fine. I can just take it and dump it in the garbage?"

"As long as you sign for it, I don't care. Except I'd really like you to look over it, 'cos I really want you on the squad."

"Okay, when will you be over?"

"Well, see, I can't, but I thought you'd be up at the school? Are you swimming this morning?"

"I don't know."

"Because I can't get out, but I ran into this guy, you know, Joe Thomason, I was out jogging and he saw me and we started talking, and he said he's going up to the school to play tennis this morning, around nine? And I said, Great, can you take this package up there and give it to Andrea, she'll be up there, and he said he could, which is really sweet of him, because I can't get out today and I need to get this thing out to you, and I was outside without my phone which is why I'm calling with Joe's?" You take a very deep breath.

Now there's a very long pause, followed by a very weary. "Okay, I'll be up there at nine. It gives me an excuse anyway."

"Oh, thank you, Andrea! I owe you so much and we'll have so much fun together! I'll see you at nine! I mean, Joe will! Love you, bye!"

You hang up before she can change her mind, and toss the phone away. You catch sight of Chelsea's glorious face in the rearview mirror as you reach up to pull the mask off. You sigh. No wonder Chen wants to keep his current position.

* * * * *

"Okay, I made a phone call," you tell Thomason on your return. "Andrea will be along in about thirty minutes or so. You got a tennis racket with you?" He shakes his head. "Never mind."

You glance around. It's all very exposed out here, at the corner where the school gym meets the natatorium, with the student parking lot on one side and the track and athletic fields on the other. There's no one about, but you don't want to tackle Andrea under the wide open sky. It sounds like she'll coming in for a swim anyway, if you can contrive to not be around when she arrives—

But you need to be able to spot her.

"Let's move our cars around to the teacher's lot," you tell Thomason, and that's what you do.

After that you take up a position around the corner of the theater wing, where you can look across the student parking lot and down Borman Road in the direction Andrea will be coming from. She comes early, in fact. You and Thomason scamper to the other corner of the theater and watch from the covered walk that separates the theater from the gym as Andrea gets out of her car and disappears toward the natatorium. She looks tremendously sexy, being dressed already in a one-piece swimsuit over which she's thrown an over-large, flannel long-sleeve shirt. Trailing at a distance, you follow and watch until she unlocks and goes into the natatorium.

You count to thirty, then hand the bag to Thomason. "Same as before," you tell him. "Only she'll be expecting you. Get the mask on, then come wave to me. Don't fuck up."

He takes a deep breath and runs after Andrea.

You start counting again. You get up to fifty before the door opens, and Thomason waves at you. You sprint toward him.

Andrea is lying halfway between the door and the side of the pool, on her back, her proud face—slightly pinched—turned up. Oh God, you groan to yourself at the sight of those strong, shapely legs. "Go move your car next to hers," you tell Thomason. "Fast."

The door has barely slammed behind him when you've got the shirt off Andrea. Quickly you unpeel the black Lycra swimsuit from her. She's even better underneath than you'd even dreamed: firm and sculpted and almost polished. She's got tan lines, though, which Chelsea didn't. She must not swim where there's enough privacy.

You fold up her clothes and lodge them next to her bag, and wait. A minute later Thomason returns. He stops dead just inside the door, staring at Andrea with a slack mouth. "Get over here, dumbass," you bark. "Get out of your clothes and into these." You hurl Andrea's gear at him.

"Are you serious?"

"It'll feel less weird once the mask is on you. After that, go get in her car. I assume her keys are in her bag."

Thomason turns very red, but complies. You keep burning eyes on Andrea, not him, as you pull her into Thomason's clothes, then pull her just outside the natatorium and prop her just next to the door, which you lock. When her mask reappears, it drops into her lap. You scoop it up, pop Thomason's onto her, and run back to the lot. "Meet you at the Mickey D's," you tell him. "That's where we'll finish." You jump into the Jeep.

* * * * *

"Go someplace and get centered," you tell the new Andrea twenty minutes later. She stares gravely back. "Better yet, find someplace you won't be disturbed, and try to take a nap. Sleep is what you need to get the memories and stuff. And once you get them—"

You swallow hard. "Then you'll be Andrea Varnsworth inside and out."

Next: "Business Before Pleasure" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 2)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)"