34Ava and Cecil found themselves in the middle of Dante’s Inferno, a circle of middle-aged women who had “retired” from the industry. One mask was an ironic dinner plate smashed to bits. Another dressed as Coco Chanel.
But the creepiest was the Eiffel Tower mask. It twinkled gorgeously with blue lights until it exploded. Fire shot out of the top of the mask, and bits of plastic showered onto the people around her.
Ava jolted backward and hid her face. “It’s an ironic terrorist attack,” the mousy-voiced woman explained. The top of the Eiffel Tower snapped back into place and the fog dissipated. “It goes off every ten minutes. Sometimes tiny bloody people shoot out of it.”
She bent to the floor and picked up a little action figure of a girl with braided hair and a small dog. The dog’s hea
