Double Fated (Book One)

by C.K. Mullinax

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  I was still fielding text messages from the masses when I finally got the one I was waiting for.

  “Thank you, Creator…” I stated aloud to my currently empty hotel room.

  “D said whatever. Use what you want. Busy, g2g…” Audrey’s text message displayed.

  I called her immediately, so I could thank Dante. But, it went straight to voicemail again. I left her a message and asked her to forward it to him. I was in such a rush that I didn’t have time to get irritated by their cold, brush off. Celebrity status changes people into snobs, quickly. I made a mental note and filed it for later. Accepting “whatever” as an affirmative, at least I’m set for this evening.

  G-mom arrived with Momma-C and Momma-G. They all looked stunning.

  Although g-mom and I needed to get each other up to speed, we couldn’t talk in front of them. So, we silenced our phones and texted each other.

  “They’re still upset, but they’ll b smilin’ for ur benefit…” g-mom revealed.

  “Can you get up with me, Gray or Sebastian when we get there? Or soon after? I’ll fill u in…” I asked her while my mommas were pulling out the pieces of my dress.

  She nodded because I had to stop texting when Momma-C and Momma-G attempted to get me into my ‘lovely gypsy contraption’. We needed guided instructions because it took longer than it did the first go-around to get me dressed. Fashionably late is not an option for any of us. Between the three of them and some duct tape, we made record time.

  “We had your late evening outfit delivered to Blitzed. It will be waiting in Mr. Gray’s office. Find us at about 9:00 and we’ll help you change…” Momma-G told me.

  “Oh, you won’t be undressing in his office. Your g-mom found his hidden camera…” Momma-C stated with a giggle.

  “That man’s the epitome of ineptitude, but again, dollars trump brains and savvy, usually…” g-mom said, humorously.

  The rest of my family was waiting in the parking lot. We had transformed into a spritzy, glitzy family of glittering gypsy girlies and boys. At least, that’s what Haven dubbed us as she twirled in her designer creation.

  Our limos pulled up and we stepped out onto the red carpet. The flashbulbs blinded us from the unknown paparazzi. None of us are exactly comfortable being exposed and photographed, especially by strangers. So, I knew the cameras and the movie hype was all, Poppy Bradwell’s doing.

  Still, Tray was freaked out beyond his capabilities and he reacted based on instinct. He convinced the camera operators to snap skyward.

  Then, Haven’s lower lip reported for duty. Papa-Tray lifted the curse instantly and mugged with her for the cameras.

  We all had to blink repeatedly to get the sun-streaks to fade. My niece, however, was thrilled to see those snapshots being displayed on the screen as we walked in. She squealed and started sub-captioning for the nearby crowd.

  “Ah, instant gratification…the world’s best distraction,” Jaysen told Tray.

  “That’s actually the only distraction that works with her. You just got lucky, dad. Dusty knees will ruin that slick, handsome suit. No one can bring you down, faster than your Havey-baby…” Ember told him, humorously.

  Tray winked and smiled a sideways smile at her. Everyone knows that Ember can bring her dad to his knees much faster than Haven. We were all muffling snickers.

  My niece was so occupied with the picture show that she didn’t realize she had a Papa-Tray conquest to celebrate.

  “Grandmother…grandfather…” we each stated to Momma-G’s parents and either, bowed or curtsied to show our respect.

  They were still elegantly dressed. But, the elegance was mixed with an unmistakable traveler’s flair. Our designer is a clothing miracle worker! The rest of the royals’ filed in and it was difficult to tell the traditional gypsies from their blue-blooded counterparts. The few actual travelers’, who had arrived early, stared in pleasant wonder.

  Dylan and his family arrived dressed in an outfitted-compromise. The groom had more bling on his sport coat, making it obvious that he is the man of the hour.

  Everyone applauded for him, even the travelers. And, we breathed one sigh of relief.

  Scarlett will make a late and grand entrance. This is customary for the Warming. However, the Ay’sha royals’ are not used to being kept waiting. Momma-G had already provided us with that warning. But, we had decided to carefully pick our battles. And, making excuses for tardiness was low on the priority list. Still, we couldn’t help becoming nervous because the foreigners to this celebration were comparing the time on their watches.

  Haven sat on her daddy’s shoulders, as travelers poured in by the dozens. All eyes were on the entrance, watching the emerging fashion show with piqued interest. No one stood out like a sore thumb, although no two people had on anything that looked similar. What I find amazing is that the travelers don’t compare notes, but they still wind up wearing unique…everything.

  Then, the music changed to an entrance theme and my traditional grandparents waltzed in like they owned the place. They turned once they were at the bottom of the staircase and were beaming with pride.

  Scarlett came in and stole the show. The crowd cheered and applauded like a movie star had just graced us. Her gown was every bit as elegant as Natrice Rhinehart’s and every bit as traveler as her mom’s. The blended style was a perfect representation of her new gypsy life.

  Dylan was so stunned by his beautiful bride that he dropped his glass. It shattered, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Scarlett. Custom dictates that he wait until she dances with her grandfathers’ and dad before he asks for his turn. Poppy Bradwell and Meemaw Pricilla worked their way over to where we were. After greeting them in traveler custom, we followed along as Poppy would offer a toast and open the buffet line.

  The ice sculptures were still pristine as he lifted a toast in his daughter’s honor. We could barely hear his words over the noisy din.

  I pulled g-mom and my brothers aside once people were lining up to get a plate. Fifteen minutes later, I was still debating with my older siblings about performing another dangerous routine. Aggravated more from stress than anything, I finally interrupted their nearly frantic arguments with a gesture.

  “Reid, Jaysen and Tray…which one of you can turn back the hands of time?? Or, schedule an impromptu college football game tonight, complete with a full blown crowd and duplicate a twin that looks just like me??” I asked, loudly.

  Three identical expressions of irritation swept across their faces.

  “So, we’re stuck with what we have. I’m sure you noticed the looks our grandparents are exchanging. Momma-C and Momma-G are on the verge of tears and the tension is thick enough to slice. If any one of you can figure out another way for me to make it up to Momma-G’s parents and Momma-C’s folks, I’m all ears.

  “I was forced into that musical lead as an understudy. I was supposed to be backstage. That was the single most nerve-wrenching experience of my existence. And, that theater only holds four hundred warm bodies. Most of those warm bodies were strangers to me – not judgmental gypsy family members!

  “My squad cheers with me, so the limelight is constantly in flux. Performing that routine, as one in the crowd is the least of my worries. It’s this, singing four songs, solo on that stage that has my skin crawling in holy terror.

  “I’m begging you to find me a way out of doing that before you even think about getting me out of cheerleading! I’ll show you every girl that gets thrown and dropped and tossed sideways. You can channel invisible ropes around all of us…for all I care. Well, you can’t interfere with the weight distributions by holding us with the wind or whatever because the spotters and the ground members will get hurt by the unexpected relief of 100 anticipated pounds. They’re used to catching and holding their cheerleader. Her weight is distributed and keeps them stable.

  “But, I would rather scrub every
toilet in here with my own toothbrush to demonstrate my lacking house cleaning skills, than to sing one song…by myself…in front of a thousand extended family members…on that stage…but, I’d do anything…for my mommas…and it’s all I could…figure out…short…notice,” I stated breathlessly.

  I was hyperventilating and crying. My brothers’ simultaneously channeled and it only calmed me down, a little bit.

  “Thanks…I’m…so sorry. I keep going from…frying pans…into fires…into infernos…and volcanos. It’s hard being…a gypsy daughter,” I offered, trying to resume some semblance of my cool.

  “Being a son is no easy task either. I have donned intricate, twenty piece ceremonial vestments that have taken me far less time to get into. I sincerely hope I don’t need to make use of the men’s facilities. Fallon is the one who got me into this clothing predicament and she is the only one who can get me out of it,” Reid reported, comically.

  “Yeah, me too…mine took Willow and a blowtorch. She tried to convince me that it was only a glue gun, but I’m not buying that con.

  “I actually feel like a Las Vegas pimp in this hat. All I’m missing is the cane and a name with some street cred attached,” Tray offered, humorously.

  “Haven can cover you…on the name part at least…” Jaysen added.

  “Yes, I can hear her now…callin’ you T-Papa-Pimp-Daddy,” g-mom stated and we all doubled over laughing.

  “I shudder to think…of what my daughter will…call me…as your sin city prostitute…my shoes will…get me more attention…on the street than…any other working stiff!” Jaysen made the pun by accident.

  My normally reserved brother turned a brilliant shade of red and burst out laughing.

  Tray turned purple after he squeaked out the words “…my stiff”.

  Reid knocked over a potted plant with a channel from uncontrolled laughter.

  G-mom tried to pick it up and forgot about the champagne she was holding. It spilled all over Jaysen’s shoes.

  “So much for…makin’ a livin’ street walkin’…you’ll be stuck to the sidewalk…just standin’, my Stiff Sticky,” Tray sputtered out and we bolted for the closest restrooms.

  G-mom and I doubled over in hysterics again when we considered poor Reid stuck in the stall without Fallon to free him. We had to reapply our makeup, twice.

  The levity was badly needed. I felt a little more confident when we met back in the semi-secluded hallway.

  My brothers couldn’t come up with a less dangerous alternative to the cheerleading routine that might appease my wounded, royal grandparents. However, they were still terrified of us performing it on the limited stage area with no mats.

  We were on the same page with that specific concern. The stage is about two feet shorter than the area we are accustomed to having. So, I agreed to have my aerial performers wear reflective stickers on both shoulders to make them easily identifiable. My dads’ and my brothers’ would channel safety bindings, but they would not use them for anything except to catch a falling body.

  R-daddy would create impact barriers, using the air element below us. He would also extend the stage with a Vaydem air-interlock if necessary. The ability to walk on air will freak out my Cheer Babies. So, if R-daddy is forced to use an extension, Tray will have to convince them that the floor is actually still under their feet.

  We stopped our strategy session long enough to watch Scarlett’s first dance with Dylan. They are so love struck. She looks at him like he is the only man on the planet. He returned her expression with a look of awe. It’s easy to see how proud he is of his soon-to-be wife.

  Although everyone was smiling at the happy couple, I watched two sets of grandparents’ eyeing each other with restrained resentment. The Rhineharts’ were standing beside my grandfather. Once this dance is over, they will start paying attention to their surroundings. Royals were on one side of the floor and the travelers were standing on the other.

  I felt the weight land squarely on my shoulders. I have to overcome my fear and do this for my mommas’.

  Finding Nigel Gray was a huge hassle. He must be a control freak because he was running from club-to-club through the back doors, trying to oversee operations while still remaining hidden. Basically, he wanted to spy and make sure no one underage was drinking. Or, at least, that’s what g-mom and I thought he was doing.

  We scouted out all his clubs three times before we finally located him right back where we started.

  “Stop!! Don’t you dare go out that door or else!!” g-mom yelled at him and he froze in apparent fear. “Good, now escort us to your office or someplace private. We need a couple of minutes then, you can go back to your marathon sprint.”

  Gray wasn’t happy about being delayed. So, he opened the closest door and nervously, tapped his foot while I was talking. I displayed the message from Audrey.

  “You need a legally signed waiver to touch Dark Matter’s equipment. A text message won’t do. Dante knows the policy, but that supposed girlfriend doesn’t…” he told me after he read the dialogue.

  Realizing we weren’t going to let him go that easily, he sighed loudly and used his cell to text Dante. He received what I thought was a reply, but I was obviously mistaken.

  “Sorry, lil’ Philly. Now, I’m…” he attempted to say while I panicked.

  “You’ll find my little Philly girl a microphone and some speakers. That’s what you were going to say…right?” g-mom asked.

  “I’ll see if Ice Man can locate…” he tried again to make an escape.

  “Oh no no! This requires an influential man in a powerful position to make it happen. I’ll need you to whip out your mighty prowess and impress me with it!

  “I want you to produce professional quality microphones…about five will make me feel comfortable – in case we have an unforeseen problem. You realize I’ll never get enough of watching you wield your…authority.

  “OOOoooo yeah and you’re gonna get us the person that runs the board with the knobs and whistles. So, we don’t break something or get that nasty feedback. And, I’ll bet you can have Sebastian set-up some really, really big speakers…” g-mom coaxed, seductively.

  She was caressing his scrawny chest like he was Mr. Universe…feeding his ego. I bit my lower lip to contain my giggles. I also kept a sharp lookout for any male family member. Although she has never done anything X-rated, I have witnessed my g-mom get us out of hot water by using various tawdry tactics. So, her stroke-fest was nothing new to me.

  It normally takes some additional leverage…like making ‘he-man heroic’ compliments in front of other men before her victim will finally take the bait. But, Nigel Gray swallowed the hook and the sinker, already.

  “Let me make a couple of calls and wow you. Stand right there and you can watch me…” he offered as he covered her hand with his own and flexed his non-existent muscles.

  Within minutes a shaggy haired guy named Bruno Ethanos was escorted inside by Sebastian Race. After introducing us to the lead singer of Wasted Final DaZe, Nigel had him sign a release for us to use his band’s equipment.

  I wonder if they chose their name to schmooze their way into a job at G. Z. E…

  Ice Man evidently saw something he didn’t like. He took off into the main part of the club.

  Bruno asked me to follow him because he needed someone to help him.

  G-mom stayed behind with Mr. Gray. She winked at me though, happy with her almost effortless conquest.

  “It sounds like the floor’s gonna cave in…” I commented nervously.

  Thousands of footsteps were stomping on the dance floor, directly above our heads. I kept looking up, expecting to get crushed to death.

  “Yeah, reminds me of artillery fire. Ice’ll be takin’ care of getting the speakers’ upstairs and wired.

  “Here…hold her for me. That’s my mic, Lucille. She’s worth a fortune, but you don’t need to sweat it. Can’t really hurt her
unless you slam her into something – don’t do that.

  “Kev’s is set for drums’ on the mixer and Harker’s is set for his keyboard. I’ll make sure they get adjusted for vocals, if either gets used. How many did you say you need?” Bruno asked, digging through their equipment.

  “My mom wants five, ready. I don’t know why because it’ll be just me, but I’m not gonna argue it out with her.

  “Maybe, you can set up all five like a barricade and I can hide behind them when I sing…” I told him wishfully.

  “Not much to the flimsy stands, but you’re about the size of an anorexic stick figure. So, it might work if you sing, standing sideways…” he said, jokingly and resumed his search.

  “Thanks for letting me use, your Lucille. I promise to be gentle with her…” I told him and he mumble, something that sounded like “yummy” under his breath.

  It felt ridiculous to personalize a microphone, but he was allowing me to use his expensive equipment. So, the least I could do is play along with his snuggly inanimate object fantasy.

  “That should do it. Don’t let the love-nicks fool ya’. Jettie’s mic is ripped…total bad-A…” he declared, handing me a well-used, dinged up microphone to hold.

  “I’ll keep it in mind…” I said, not knowing how else to respond.

  “Gotta find the cords…you can put those two down if you need to…they get heavy…ya’ know what I’m sayin?”

  “I feel safer holding them, if it’s all the same…” I offered, worried that Jettie’s ripped mic might just finish cracking if I place it on any other surface.

  “Whatever…” he remarked and it reminded me of Dante.

  “I should’ve remembered that Dark Matter’s equipment wouldn’t be here, anymore. Their stuff must’ve been moved to HaZed for them to practice…” I stated.

  I was thinking out loud, more to distract myself from the overhead artillery than anything.

  Bruno must have felt obligated to respond, although I didn’t ask him a question.

  “Dark Matter…are they friends of yours?”

  “Sorta…yes and no. I’m friends with the drummer’s girlfriend.”

  “Ragin’ V.D.’s gotta serious behind the scenes, huh?? That figures…”

  “If Dante’s nickname is Ragin’ V.D. and a “serious behind the scenes” refers to a fiancée, then, yes…”

  “Might wanna clue your girl in that she should probably go get tested. Ya’ know what I’m sayin’?”

  I actually wanted to know more about what he was saying. But, Sebastian Race joined us and that ended our conversation for the time being.

  “The stage will be ready at 9 sharp…one active performance…four songs, then done?” Ice Man asked me.

  “Yes…”

  “Waiver?”

  “Signed, already…” Bruno informed him.

  “This area’s restricted…staff only,” the head of security revealed.

  “She’s leavin’…ah, here’s the ones…don’t let Lem use that announcer’s crap with our mixer…give him these…” Bruno stated and handed him five rolled up cords.

  Then, he took his and Jettie’s microphones from my hands.

  “You can head out, Christie…”

  “Krista…” Ice Man corrected him for me.

  “Sorry…” Bruno mumbled.

  “Thanks again…”

  “You’re welcome, kid…break a leg,” he responded and got ready to rub my head.

  I ducked and narrowly, missed getting petted. My hair took over an hour to style. So, getting a scalp massage isn’t going to happen until after this event ends.

  My social slight didn’t even blip on Bruno’s radar. He went right back to what he was doing.

  Sebastian gave me a look that I couldn’t quite decipher. Smiling at him, I shrugged my shoulders and headed back the same way I came.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying enough attention to where I was going when I came down here with Bruno. Nothing looked familiar and the basement got darker.

  I worked my way into a section with lots of rooms. They were all secured with multiple padlocks. It gave me the creeps, for some reason.

  Three locks on one door is a little in overkill territory, as far as security. Their restrooms have motion sensors, so I assume their basement is wired with explosives.

  Nigel Gray must be really paranoid. Whatever happens to be locked behind these doors is very valuable…or illegal…or both.

  My curiosity was piqued, but I didn’t have time to explore this dimly lit treasure trove and look for wonders. I would ask g-mom to do some snooping for me and share her findings.

  I looked for illuminated exit signs. I thought all businesses had to have them installed. But, the only light was the one Bruno was using in his storage cage. Guess that’s why the basement area is restricted…

  Getting turned around in the dark, I finally had to acknowledge that I was lost.

  My feet were killing me. So, I took off my shoes and retraced my steps. I need Ice Man to guide me out of this dungeon-labyrinth. I want to leave it more than he wants me to be gone…

  “…that’s V.D. Ya’ know what I’m sayin’?” Bruno asked his favorite question.

  Ice Man responded by making a sound.

  “D.M.’s equipment is crap. Christie might as well’ve used a Fisher-Price. Woulda sounded better…”

  “I have no knowledge of Fisher-Price or their band…”

  “No man…that’s the name of indestructible baby toys. Ya’ get it…a fake rubber mic?? Never mind…”

  Sebastian might be Tarrish. Sarcastic jokes are met with a factual or literal response…no laughter included because no understanding was achieved. I stifled a giggle.

  “Speakin’ of chicks and flexible material…her soft hands will be holdin’ my hard, silver Lucille…her sweet red lips…next to the tip…deeee-lish…that’s goin’ straight to Penthouse forums. Ya’ know what I’m sayin’?”

  Bruno has one, serious relationship with his microphone, going on.

  That thought hit me and I swiftly covered my mouth to prevent the resulting gagging and/or laughing. What’s up with all the porn references, tonight??

  “…girl’s lucky…” was the next thing I heard Bruno say and a small giggle escaped against my will.

  No, Big Bruno you’re the lucky one. My brothers aren’t down here listening. Talk about a forcible intimate moment between a man and his microphone…

  The laughter was going to explode from me any second. I could feel it. And, it would have happened too but Ice Man decided to answer all of Bruno’s signature questions. That’s when curiosity triumphed over comedy.

  “No, I do not know what you are saying. I have no children and detest toys. You do not live in a penthouse. The dwelling you inhabit can be barely defined as an apartment.

  “I do not know why a person holding a microphone and using it in the manner it was intended, fascinates your male interest. And, I do not care.

  “I am the party responsible for your ‘tripped out flying’ transport here. It was not a drug induced journey of the imagination as you surmised in the alley upon arrival.

  “I solve problems for Gray. That is what I do. He is enamored with these people and one, in particular. She requested to use Dark Matter’s sub-par equipment. Gray forwarded the job to me.

  “Dante responded that I should “go blow myself”. I took that as his denial. Your equipment is the highest quality and your allowance solves the immediate problem.

  “Gray will learn of Dante’s childish refusal during our forum after this event concludes. It will have severe repercussions…”

  “I’ll say! Dark Matter’s crap will hit the pavement as soon as Gray finds a replacement. Been around long enough myself to know that’s comin’. The rest of his band’s losin’ their shot, too. Because if Ragin’ V. D.’s out, so are they. But, I’m thinkin’ about givin’ B-bone a try on bass. Whatdaya think?”<
br />
  “Those you choose to associate with are of no concern to me…”

  “That’s what I like about you, Ice Man. Your nose stays outta any tight, dark spaces, unlike Ragin’ V.D.’s. Guy’s been suckin’ up to Gray like he’s gonna pop the question…” Bruno commented and laughed.

  Ice Man made another noise and the lead singer interpreted his grunt to mean he was in complete agreement. So, Bruno spent another several minutes digging through his boxes and complaining about how Dante is brownnosing the boss.

  Sebastian listened until he was irritated and interrupted Bruno.

  “You must have missed my earlier comments and forgotten what your experience accurately predicts. Gray has one answer he will accept from an employee and you guessed it correctly. Your prize is a continued paycheck.

  “Dante ensured Dark Matter’s engagement with this organization is temporary…” Ice Man stated, clearly hinting that Bruno should drop the subject.

  The lead singer of Wasted Final DaZe is definitely not into conversational subtleties.

  “Temp employment won’t be his only short term worry. Ragin’ V.D.’s been nailin’ anything that asks for his autograph. He even hooked up with that active STD chick…Tamra…Tamlee…it’s Tam something. I’m not good with names. The girl’s a freak in the sack, but he’s gotta be brain damaged to do her sleeveless in front of his other groupies with HIV.

  “Word on the street says he’s got his serious woman joinin’ with them. That’s probably why he blew off your order to get here tonight and pull out his crap for Christie. But, no matter how many honeys I’m cranking at one time, I’ve got enough sense to know if Gray says jump, to come runnin’. See, I even skipped my socks and skivvies…

  “If this Christie chick wants to use my Johnson to sing into, I’ll slice it off and hand it to her. I’m not about to lose my house show gig over some girl borrowing Lucille and friends. Ya’ know what I’m sayin’??”