Wonderland (25 page)

She traced a finger down his chest to where the bed sheet covered his hips, then pulled it back to expose him. She stared at him like this for a few seconds, and then leaned forward. Her hair fell over his stomach as she slipped him into her mouth, arousing him again.

He awakened with a moan and said her name.

Climbing on top of him, she guided him inside her, looking down at him as he gazed into her eyes. His expression was a blend of lust, wonder, and self-loathing. She knew the power she had over him, and she was going to exploit it one last time, before he was gone forever.

“Say my name again,” she said, tracing his mouth with her finger.

Oscar did as she requested, repeating it over and over.

As she rocked her hips, Bianca thought, and not for the first time, how much easier everything would be if she could just love him.

THIRTY-TWO

T
he worst part about working in the Clown Museum? The creepy janitor who was always staring at her. The best part? Everything else.

Ava shifted her weight slightly on the wooden pedestal she was standing on, glad the room was kept cool. If it wasn’t, she’d be sweating in her costume, and that would not be okay, as it had taken her a good hour to apply her makeup at the start of her shift. The YouTube videos she’d watched the other evening had helped her get the look just right.

She’d started by whiting out her face with theatrical foundation, and then she’d shaded and contoured with three different flesh tones. Bright pink blush spots highlighted the apples of her cheeks, and she’d glued huge, fluttery false eyelashes over her own lashes, which by far had been the most difficult part. Her lips were a deep red, painted in a generous cupid’s bow.

On her head was a wig full of brown ringlets, with yellow bows resting two inches above her ears on either side. The wig was itchy and it took a lot of effort not to scratch her head and dislodge it. The nineteenth century–style yellow dress she was wearing, with stiff puffed sleeves and a petticoat, also itched, but it fit her perfectly. A gold-plated necklace with a massive fake yellow sapphire pendant completed the ensemble, and it was so heavy it felt like it weighed five pounds around her neck.

But it was worth it. When her supervisor had seen her for the first time, she’d actually gasped. Ava looked exactly like a life-sized porcelain doll, which was, of course, the whole point.

“You look amazing.” Anne-Marie had clapped her hands together in delight. “How’d you get the makeup so perfect?”

“YouTube,” Ava said with a grin. “I’ll get faster as I keep doing it. Hope you don’t mind if I change up the look for next time. I have all kinds of ideas.”

“As long as you look like a doll, I don’t care what you do. Get as creative as you want,” Anne-Marie said. “Okay, now remember to watch for the light. We always make sure to space out everyone as best we can, but unless the light is red, assume that you need to be ‘on.’ But when it is red, take advantage of the free time and move around, get the blood flowing in your legs. Standing still is so much harder than it looks. Ready?”

“Good to go.”

“You know, I had my doubts about hiring you. I thought you were too young.” Anne-Marie gave her a smile. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

It was so much fun, Ava could hardly believe she got paid to do this. Her mom might be concerned about a potential serial killer stalking Wonderland, but it was her mother’s job to worry about stuff like that. All Ava knew was that she loved it here; everything about Elm Street and the Clown Museum felt exactly right. Now if only the janitor would stop creeping around, staring at her.

She knew his name was Carlos Jones, because like all Wonderland employees (with the exception of performers, as Ava was at the moment), he was required to wear his ID at all times. They had met before when she’d been assigned to the hot dog cart in the midway, and she’d made the unfortunate mistake of introducing herself to him after he’d emptied her garbage bin. She’d asked how his day was going, and had even complimented his neck tattoo, a red rose with black leaves. Carlos Jones had seemed shocked that anyone had even noticed him, and from that day on, he’d made a point to be nearby wherever Ava was working. How he even knew her schedule, she didn’t know, but she felt like she was being punished for being nice. She’d complained to Anne-Marie about him, who assured her he was harmless.

“Nobody’s ever complained about him before that I’m aware of, but then again, nobody ever really talks to him,” Anne-Marie said. “He’s usually extremely quiet. Just ignore him like everyone else does. If it becomes a serious problem, I’ll talk to his supervisor.”

What qualified as a serious problem?
Ava wondered. She didn’t know, but she was determined to follow Anne-Marie’s advice of simply pretending the janitor wasn’t there. It wasn’t easy, though. Carlos Jones wasn’t much taller than she was, but he was built like a heavyweight boxer, and whenever he was around, the room instantly felt smaller.

Ava was assigned to the Dollhouse all week, which was a room inside the Clown Museum dedicated to nothing but dolls. Anne-Marie had explained to her that the park had once been owned by a man named Jack Shaw, whose elderly mother had been an avid porcelain doll collector. When she died, she’d left her entire collection to her son, who’d thought the perfect place to display it was inside the Clown Museum.

Over time, Shaw had added to the collection. Dolls ranging from the size of Barbies to the size of Ava, in all kinds of dresses and hairstyles, were displayed inside the dimly lit room, their glassy eyes staring into nothing. The smaller and more valuable ones were encased in glass, but the majority were set in displays designed to make it look like they were inside a room from an actual dollhouse. Several signs that read
LOOK BUT DON’T TOUCH
were placed everywhere.

There was a small lightbulb in the upper corner of the room above the door where guests entered, which Ava had to keep an eye on. When the light was red, it meant she had at least three minutes before guests would enter the Dollhouse. The red light was Ava’s opportunity to walk around, stretch, and have a sip of water from the bottle she was hiding behind her pedestal. When the light turned yellow, she had thirty seconds until someone entered the room. When the light was green, it was show time.

As she looked up, the light in the corner went from red to yellow. Adjusting her position on the pedestal, Ava took a breath and stood completely still, relaxing her face into one devoid of expression. A few seconds later, the light turned green, and a boy of about seventeen or so entered, followed by his girlfriend. As they walked in, tinkly carnival music began to play.

“This is so creepy.” The girlfriend spoke in a hushed whisper. “I don’t think I like this. These dolls are even scarier than the clowns.”

“Why would anybody collect these things?” The boyfriend sounded equally freaked out. “They look like dead little girls.”

“Right?” the girlfriend said. “It’s so wrong. Let’s get out of here.”

“We have to pass through here anyway. Might as well take a couple pictures.”

They perused the dolls slowly, taking their time. They read some of the plaques at random, snapping pictures here and there.

“This one is from the eighteenth century,” the girlfriend said. “It was owned by a French duchess. That’s pretty cool.”

“The life-size ones are just
sick.
” The boyfriend stooped to read the plaque on the doll right beside Ava. She was standing between two actual dolls, and she dared not move. Every muscle in her body was still. “This one’s name is Genevieve, and it was custom made in France for Evelyn Shaw, the mother of the founder of the park. It cost twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for a doll. Bree, come look. She’s as big as you.”

His girlfriend stood beside him. “Totally sick,” she said with a nod. “I can’t believe somebody actually makes these for a living. What kind of person would do that?”

“Probably the same person who mounts animal heads on the wall. People are all kinds of freaky.” The boyfriend reached over and squeezed her ass. “But you know, you would look cute in that doll dress. I wonder what she’s wearing underneath.”

“Pervert.” The girlfriend giggled. She pulled her boyfriend close and they kissed. Ava couldn’t see whether there was tongue involved, as she wasn’t able to look directly at them, but she imagined there was as she could hear them slurping.

They finished kissing and moved in front of Ava.

“God.” The girlfriend visibly shuddered. “Sean, this one looks almost real. I swear it’s breathing.”

“That’s because that’s what your brain expects you to see. It’s like when you’re on a broken escalator. It’s not moving, but you feel like it is because you know it should be.” The boyfriend leaned closer to Ava. His breath smelled like he’d just eaten a caramel apple, which he probably had. “See, I could have sworn she just blinked. But it’s all in my head. Man, that’s freaky.”

“
‘Custom made especially for Wonderland
,’ ” the girlfriend recited, reading off the plaque that was mounted close to Ava’s elbow. “Her name is Ava. Sean, listen to this.
‘Look into her pendant, dear. See your face so clean and clear. Make a wish and do not fear, for what you ask is very near.’
It says seventeen wishes have been granted by people who’ve looked into the pendant.”

Both of them leaned in, staring into the fake yellow jewel. Their faces were an inch away from Ava’s neck.

“Hello,” Ava said in a pleasant voice, timing it perfectly.

The boy sprang back about four feet, and the girlfriend screamed so loud Ava thought the glass displays might break.

“Holy shit!” the boyfriend hollered. “It is real! Oh my god, I think I just shit my pants.”

The girlfriend’s hand was across her mouth, her face a mask of horror even though the sound she was making suggested laughter. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

“I knew that could happen, I read about it online,” the boyfriend said, cracking up. “But still, that was fucking
sick
.”

“Please exit through the doors on the right,” Ava said in her pleasant voice, still standing on her pedestal. She raised her arm and pointed, then let it drop back to her side. “And allow the guests behind you to enjoy the same surprise you just did. Thank you for visiting the Dollhouse. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The two left giggling, and when they were gone, Ava relaxed her posture. The light in the corner turned red, and Ava stepped down, stretching her arms over her head. She never would have thought standing completely still would be so much work, but it was like a workout in itself. Ava was working the pedestal for the next half hour, and then her coworker Kristie, who was also dressed as a doll and who was greeting guests as they entered the museum, would relieve her. The two would trade off every thirty minutes until the end of the night.

Oh, how she loved this job. This beat making hot dogs any day of the week.

When Ava had told her best friend McKenzie in Seattle about her transfer to Elm Street, McKenzie had been really excited for her. Both agreed that working at Wonderland was one of only two perks to living in Seaside, the second one being the beach. But when Ava had told Katya about the transfer, her new work friend had seemed a little jealous. After all, Katya was still stuck at Teriyaki Delight, wearing the thick kimono and cooking with the steam in her face. Ava got to dress up in costume and scare the crap out of people. There was no comparison.

“Not sure why you’d want that job, anyway,” Katya said when Ava had told her the news. “That place scares the shit out of me. And I’ve heard things about the Clown Museum.”

“Like what?”

“Like, people have died there,” Katya said. “There’s some monster that lives under the museum and he’ll come out and snatch you.”

“You’ve been reading way too much Stephen King,” Ava said, drawing a blank stare from her friend. She sighed. “Never mind.”

“Well, you’re a braver person than me, I guess.” Katya’s expression was dubious. “I’ll keep an eye on Xander for you. I see him in the food court every day. Now that you’re not speaking to him, he’s always asking me for free teriyaki.”

“Do you give it to him?”

“Duh. Of course.”

Ava was still upset about what happened between her and Xander in his dorm room, and she had to admit, she missed him. He’d always been supportive of Ava and her love of all things horror, and if he could see her now in her doll costume, he’d think it was cool. She was thinking she might want to be friends with him again—once she had a little time to heal her wounded ego, that was. But she’d never understand or condone his relationship with Bianca Bishop. Ever.

“Hey there,” a voice said from the corner, and Ava jumped. She turned to see Carlos Jones standing there, a broom in one hand. She hadn’t even heard him enter the room. He’d come in through the door marked
EMPLOYEES
ONLY,
which was painted black to match the walls. And now he was approaching her, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I’m working.” Ava spoke sharply. “If you talk to me and we’re seen, it will ruin the surprise.”

Right on cue, the light in corner of the room changed from red to yellow. Flooded with relief, Ava pointed to it, and Carlos Jones shrugged and walked back through the door from where he’d appeared.

Ava stepped back onto her pedestal, making a mental note to tell her mother about him. Maybe her mom could run his name or something. Not that the man had actually done anything, mind you, but there might very well be some kind of psychopath stalking the park. There was no reason why it couldn’t be creepy Carlos Jones.

As the light turned from yellow to red, Ava couldn’t help but think how cool it was that her mom was the deputy chief of police of Seaside. If anything bad ever happened to her, her mom would never stop looking, and she’d bring the entire police force with her.

The thought was comforting.