'And you'd be right. And you don't have a choice. We'll be shooting in a couple of weeks.'
'Sweet.'
'So how do you think things are working out? Seriously?'
Stanley smiled. 'Getting killed was the best damn thing that ever happened to me.'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A week after his whirlwind publicity tour began, Stanley sat alone in a hotel bar in New York City, nursing a beer at a corner table. Since he couldn't get drunk, there was no sense chugging it.
Brant, Veronica, and Martin had all gone up to bed, leaving Stanley alone to enjoy a rare quiet moment. It wasn't a private moment (he was being monitored by hotel security), but at least it was relaxing.
The bar was set to close in about ten minutes, and aside from the bartender, the only other occupants were a pair of girls, a blonde and a brunette, seated on stools at the bar. They looked to be in their early twenties. Incredibly hot. Downing numerous shots.
Stanley noticed that they kept glancing at him, whispering, and giggling. He wondered what they were saying. Probably something along the lines of 'Eeeeewwwwwwww!' That was okay. They could ridicule him all they wanted as long as they kept displaying that ample cleavage. The blonde in particular had a superb rack.
The blonde and brunette each downed another shot, whispered to each other, giggled, and then got off their stools and approached Stanley's table, clearly tipsy.
'Hi,' said the brunette.
'Hi,' said Stanley.
'You're the dead guy, right?'
Stanley nodded.
The brunette elbowed her friend. 'I knew it!'
Gee, what clued you in? The rot? Stanley thought, but instead of saying anything he just smiled politely.
'Can we sit down?' the blonde asked.
'Sure.'
The girls each pulled out a chair and sat down, although the brunette had a bit of trouble with the process. 'I'm Mandy,' said the blonde. 'My friend is Dot.'
'Hi, Mandy and Dot. I'm Stanley.'
The brunette smiled. 'What's a celebrity like you doing sitting all by himself?'
'My entourage retired for the night.'
'Oh, really…?'
Stanley glanced back and forth between the two women. Were they actually interested in him? Or were they waiting for the right moment to laugh and throw a drink in his face? Even the ugliest celebrities seemed to be able to attract hot women, but did that apply to zombie celebrities as well?
Were these women zombie groupies?
'Yeah,' said Stanley, taking a swig of beer in what he hoped was an incredibly masculine manner. 'They're a bunch of lightweights.'
'I saw you on TV,' said Dot. 'You're kinda cute for a dead guy.'
'And you're kinda cute for a live girl.'
Dot giggled much louder than was warranted by the comment. 'I like guys with tattoos and piercings and stuff, but I've never been with a real zombie before.'
'I'm one of a kind.'
'I bet you are.'
'Can we touch you?' asked Mandy.
Stanley leaned forward. 'Be my guest.'
Mandy ran her fingers across Stanley's face and shivered. 'Ooooh, wow, that's freaky!'
Dot joined in, still giggling. 'It is freaky!'
'Good freaky or bad freaky?' asked Stanley.
'I haven't decided yet,' said Mandy, sliding her hand down to his chin. 'I think I'm leaning toward good freaky.'
'Good freaky all the way,' said Dot, leaning over and giving Stanley an unobstructed view of a good thirty-five percent of the surface area of her breasts.
'So, uh, can I buy you ladies a drink?' he asked, feeling more than a little self-conscious.
'You can buy us anything you want,' Dot informed him.
Stanley waved to the bartender. 'One more of whatever they're having.'
'Your face doesn't feel at all like I thought,' said Mandy.
'How'd you think it would feel?'
'Colder.'
'Well, they keep it pretty warm in here. I'm room temperature, you know.'
'Really?' asked Dot.
'Yep.'
'That's awesome! So you're like a lizard?'
'No, I'm not cold-blooded. I'm no-blooded.'
'Does that mean you wouldn't bleed if we bit you?' asked Mandy, making it sound like the single naughtiest activity imaginable.
Bite me, baby, bite me.
Mandy and Dot removed their hands from Stanley's face as the bartender brought over their drinks. Stanley made meaningless but flirty small talk with them for a few more minutes, still not completely sure that they weren't just messing with him. He didn't think they were teasing him, considering that they were totally plastered and probably not particularly intelligent while sober, but still, he was one ugly zombie.
The bartender informed them that the place was closing. Mandy gave a mock pout, while Dot rubbed Stanley's thigh. 'Do all of your parts still work, Mr. Corpse?'
Stanley shook his head.
Dot mimicked Mandy's pout. 'That's too bad.'
'I mean, my heart doesn't pump blood anymore, if that's what you were asking.'
Dot slid her hand further up his leg and gently brushed her fingers against his crotch. 'Does this work?'
'Oh, that thing? Yes, it works.'
'Rrrrrreally?' Mandy purred.
'But it's…unattractive.'
'Uncircumcised?'
'No, just, y'know, it looks like the rest of me.'
'I like the rest of you,' said Dot.
Oh my God, I believe I'm going to get laid tonight, thought Stanley. He wondered if the security guard watching him was getting sick to his stomach. Stanley would have been puking in a very large bucket if their roles were reversed.
'We could continue the party in your room,' said Mandy. 'Unless you have a prior commitment.'
'Nope, no commitment. I mean, I have to get up early, but that's not really a commitment.'
Mandy pushed back her chair. 'Then lead the way, stud.'
Stanley walked out of the hotel bar, a woman on each arm, and headed down the hallway toward the elevators, feeling more nervous about potential sexual activity than he had since his myriad of near-miss almost- losses of virginity during his teenage years.
Don't say anything stupid to mess this up. Don't say anything stupid to mess this up. Don't say anything stupid to mess this up. Don't be yourself.
An elderly woman was standing next to the elevators as they approached. She glared at them with a You three are doomed sinners expression that quickly turned into a By the way, the whole idea is really gross
