After our introductions, Tucker quickly spins around, and hurries to his car. In a less than chivalrous fashion, he proceeds to jump in the driver's seat, turn on his obnoxious car, and spin the radio's volume gauge to high heavens. I can only imagine this is the only way to hear what is on the radio over the aforementioned tail pipes. Just as my ears were beginning to go numb from the earsplitting heavy metal music, Tucker takes his hand off the wheel and turns the volume down low. Maybe we are going to start having actual conversation, and learn something about each other.
"Cal said you caught your old man cheating with a younger girl," Tucker says without skipping a beat.
"Uh yeah, I did. Thanks for reminding me."
"Huh? How could you forget something like that?" Tucker asks, with his face squished up in confusion.
Lord have mercy. As if a haunted house wasn't the worst place to take a lady on a first date; somehow the ride here was worse. This date is off to a rocky start, but I'm trying to remain a glass half full type of girl. We arrive at a haunted house near the city, a very long 45 minutes later. As we pull into the parking lot, I am instantly in awe of the size of this building. The haunted house is situated in the front half of an enormous old warehouse. To the right of the parking lot is a huge wooded area where they offer haunted hayrides, for an extra charge. As we approach the ticket counter, I see the prices listed above the window:
-$12 hayride
-$12 haunted house
-$22 for both
-$5 parking
We arrive at the ticket counter just as the girl working slides the window open to help us.
"Two attractions?" she politely asks Tucker.
"Hell yeah, both!" Tucker excitedly replies.
"That will be $49 please." She replies, incorrectly assuming my date would be paying for me. His date.
In true Tucker fashion, he proceeds to hand the girl $27 for his ticket and parking only. The girl rolls her eyes at Tucker, and looks at me with sympathy as I hand her my $22 entry fee. I offer her a small smile while I glare at the back of Tucker's head. Without so much as a glance back at me, Tucker rushes towards the line; clearly more enthusiastic about the thrills ahead than the date he is supposed to be on.
"Oh well," I think to myself, "let's get this over with."
We are the next group to enter the haunted house, and Pennywise the clown is going over the rules with the group before we can enter. "Do not stop moving forward! Do not touch anything or anyone! Do not shove the person in front of you! Do not split up from the group! Good luck getting out alive!" he shouts, over the screams coming from behind the door. Pennywise lurches open the heavy steel door, and we are shuffled in quickly with the door slamming behind us. It is pitch black dark apart from a strobe light, and I immediately regret this decision. I can hear chainsaws up ahead, and my skin begins to feel prickly. I like a good haunted house as much as the next girl, but something about the sound of a chainsaw really is chilling. Our group begins to inch forward, when Tucker lets out a screeching holler. He looks at me, finally, and yells, "I'M FUCKING PUMPED!" That is only the third thing dumbass Tucker has said to me since we met. I may Uber home at this point.
The first room is a lot of twists and turns, with jump scares every couple of steps. Something is dripping on us randomly, and I'm not completely sure if it is part of the haunted house, or just the old warehouse pipes. The girl in front of me is sobbing miserably, but at least her date is comforting her somewhat. Actually, he looks just as afraid without the tears. Dumbass Tucker is now bouncing up and down with excitement. We begin to make our way through to the next room with only the strobe lights to guide us, and we pass through a doorway with a curtain of chains blocking the way. Oh no. We found the chainsaw room. I suddenly feel as though my feet are made of lead, and I am having trouble moving forward. Tucker shouts in my ear, "Hope ya ain't scared of a little ol' chainsaw!" Ignoring him, I figured out how to move my feet once again and I begin trekking forward. I'm torn between wanting to inch past the wall I know the chainsaw wielding man is behind, and flat out hauling ass to the next room. My choice is quickly made for me, when a man busts out of a trap door in the wall a few feet in front of us. He is dressed in all black, a skeleton print mask covering his nose and mouth, and he is tall. I mean like 6'5 tall. His stature only makes his role scarier as he lurks in front of us, firing the chainsaw up. Lord help me. I once again forget how to walk, when I suddenly feel two hands shove me hard from behind.
The series of events that happen next seem to pass in slow motion. My first thought is, "FUCKING TUCKER!" I know it was him that shoved me, and based on the smell of liquor on his breath when he mocked my chainsaw fear, I believe he may, in fact, be drunk. At first, I stumble, and think I may be able to regain my balance. I have never been more wrong in my life. There is a rope on both sides, keeping the groups on the guided path, and I am falling towards it face first. Throwing my hands out to grab the rope is a mistake. This only launches my body over the rope, and lands me headfirst into the tall guy's chainsaw. He attempts to dodge me, but he is not quick enough. He, understandably, was not expecting someone to be shoved towards his chainsaw. Screams of horror come from the rest of the group, and to no surprise to me, dumbass Tucker continues into the next room as though my bleeding head is a part of the act.
The immediate blow to my head rocks me. My vision goes blinding white, I taste blood in my mouth, and a ringing begins in my ears. The smell of oil and gas coming off the chainsaw is overwhelming. As I start to register what happened, my legs begin to quit their job; threatening to drop me on my ass. Just as my descent begins, a set of long arms wrap around my waist and hoist me upright. Looking at my now bleeding head, the very tall chainsaw man yells, "What the BLOODY HELL?" I put my hands to my forehead, and begin to look for an exit. Before I am able to make my escape, the long arms still wrapped around me have led me through the trap door and into a long, much quieter hallway. Blood is trailing down my face much faster now, and the pain is close to unbearable. The chainsaw man is gently, but swiftly leading me towards a door halfway down the hallway. As we pass through the doorway, I glance up to read the nameplate fixed to the wall: Mr. Clayton, it reads. I am sat in a chair and a clean white towel is pressed to my forehead. Chainsaw man is pacing, and I am wondering which one of us is more distressed.
"Thank you for your help, but if you could just show me the exit so I can call an Uber," I say quietly, while moving to stand up.
"SIT!" he barks out at me. How is he possibly more pissed off than me? Better yet, is he pissed off at me?
"Who is the asshole that threw you into my chainsaw? You are lucky there was no chain on it." Okay so maybe it is not me he is pissed at.
"That was dumbass Tucker, and this was our first date," I say, a little embarrassed.
"LAST date," he replies, with a strong British accent.
"Excuse me?" maybe I heard him wrong since he is still wearing the mask over his nose and mouth.
"You are telling me you want to continue seeing that asshole after he chucked you into a chainsaw headfirst without so much as slowing his step?" he spits out. He is still pacing the room, which is making me increasingly more nervous. I think about what he said, and of course he is right. There is no way in hell I will ever go out with dumbass Tucker, and his piece of shit car ever again. I also make a mental note to tell Harley and Cal that Tucker is a complete waste of flesh and nearly killed me.
"Yeah, you're right. Last." I agree, causing him to dart his striking green eyes to mine, but continue to pace the room while squeezing the back of his neck with both hands.
I need to get out of here and possibly get stitches, but just as I begin to ask chainsaw man (I should get his name) how to get out of here, the office door burst open. A beautiful woman with bright red hair runs into the office, startling both of us out of our stupors.
"Mr. Clayton there is some jackass at the front..." she starts quickly, but stops when she notices me. Wait, did she just call chainsaw man Mr. Clayton? He turns to look at the wall of computer monitors behind him displaying every inch of the haunted house including the front ticket window. That's where we all see dumbass Tucker looking furious, and shouting at the girl working the counter.
"What the hell could he possibly be shouting about?" Mr. Clayton asks the girl that is nervously standing in his office.
"I'm so sorry to barge in. I didn't know you were with someone, but this kind of explains what he is shouting about," she begins. "He is demanding that we refund his money and replace his shirt. He said, and I quote, "a prick with a chainsaw splattered blood on me, and ruined my clothes... and my night" which I am assuming you are the prick, and it is her blood," she says. She looks at the blood-soaked towel, and slowly looks to Mr. Clayton who is back to pacing.
Mr. Clayton stops abruptly and says, "Tell him to get the hell out of here, and never come back. He is banned indefinitely, and will likely be charged with assault once the police arrive. Or I can come escort him off MY property, and we can both be charged with assault." He turns to look at me as he removes the mask off his face. Hot damn he is beautiful.
"What's your name?" he asks.
"Jo. Jolene Chastain." I stutter out. Real smooth.
He turns back to the girl and says, "And you can also tell him to stay the fuck away from Jolene Chastain."
She turns to look at me for confirmation, and I simply nod in agreement. She leaves the office, and pulls the door shut behind her. I wish I could see Tucker's face when she delivers that blow. It would almost make up for this terrible first, last date. I am beginning to feel faint, so I pull my phone out to order an Uber to take me to the hospital. I am beyond over this entire night, and honestly a bit humiliated. "What are you doing," Mr. Clayton's voice snaps me out of my failed attempt to unlock my phone with facial recognition. It must be worse than I thought. I rest my head back against the wall while looking up at his towering frame, and reply, "I'm ordering a car to take me to a hospital. I'm sure I need stitches, and I am feeling a bit faint. How do I get out of this place? What's your first name? Are you the manager?" I'm rambling, but I can't help it. I have so many questions, and the blood loss is making me feel almost drunk. Mr. Clayton squats down in front me and says, "You are not taking an Uber. I'm driving you. You definitely need stitches. I'm Ledger Clayton, and I own this warehouse. Any more questions?" Yes, tons, but I can't make my thoughts come out as words while he is staring at me like that. He stands up, and holds his hand out to me to help me from the chair. Being the strong, independent, stubborn woman I am, I ignore his hand and stand on my own. Big mistake. I attempt to step forward, and instead I sway left. Mr. Clayton puts one arm around my waist, and the other one on my shoulder to steady me. Once I am safely standing upright, he hooks his right arm into my left arm, and leads me out of his office. I can't help the laugh that escapes my lips as I glance at the screens on the way out, just in time to see Tucker in his blood-stained shirt stomping his way towards the parking lot.