by Erin R Flynn
“Thank you.” She took the napkin and tucked it into her purse. “So, is there any chance you’ll still do my shower?”
I shrugged after answering Eva’s quick question about if she had to hide her dark hair under a headdress, as she was opposed to it. I didn’t care as long as no one made themselves a blonde that looked like me. Otherwise the subterfuge didn’t work. “Simone’s boss, but if you’re not pissed at what I just did, I won’t blame you for having a shit mother-in-law.”
“No, I understand you doing it because she did it in front of witnesses, and if you didn’t, all her little cronies would come do the same.”
“Yeah, they would because I had it done to my bistro after I first opened,” Simone admitted with a huff. “I basically had to shoot myself in the foot to make it stop, and now no humans really come in because I scared off big fish who were screwing me.”
“Well, I love a chance to eat out anytime,” Mrs. Evans’s friend assured Simone. “And you got some new blood coming in after that salmon from the cook-off you serve at your place I hear.”
“Her recipe,” Simone confessed, jerking her thumb at me. We all had a laugh at it, and the tension in the room subsided. “So what do you want for your baby shower? Not what she was making you do, but what do you want?”
“I want it to not be boring,” she sighed. “It’s the first time we’re getting the guys to come to this sort of party the wives or girlfriends only come to. If it’s a flop, they’ll keep with the boys’ nights and shit that leads to trouble, and with social media and cameras everywhere, they can’t do much without someone spinning it as trouble.”
I snorted. “And that’s why we don’t allow cameras in the club. Also, people sign confidentiality and other things in their waivers.”
“Smart,” Mrs. Evans complimented. “Some of the baby shower games are fun, and if the guys are there, they really will be to liven it up. I refuse to sit there forever and open way too many presents for other people to sit through and not die. We do want the baby onesies decorating because even my husband said that sounded like fun, but the way his mother had us doing it was boring.”
“We may be able to help with that,” I admitted, flagging one of the hosts setting up for the night. “Can you ask Gayle to let me borrow her for a bit?” She nodded and hurried off. “We have someone who can do airbrushing. She handles makeup and body paint costumes. If you provide the onesies, stencils, and paints, I think we can get her to oversee the airbrushing and show people.”
“That’s a much better idea than doodling with fabric markers,” her friend agreed. “We were thinking bobbing for nipples, like baby bottle tops.”
“You have to specify here,” Beth chuckled as she walked up to us… Nipples free. “Sorry, I didn’t know we had outside guests. I wanted to check what you thought of this sort of design before we get more and incorporate them.”
She was wearing a gorgeous corset with strings and also straps for support, as the bra support was only under her boobs, which she needed since she had big ones. But then she also had on matching panties with corset type strings.
“I like it. As long as everyone’s comfortable in it, I think it’s nice,” I answered, glad when Simone nodded. “That’s a basic and someone’s giving it flare?”
“Yeah, we talked Lillie into doing Roar with the new choreographer coming in, and they know the Cyr wheel for the two coming, so this is for that. Sorry to interrupt, Alphas.”
“No, it’s fine, we added this, and they know it’s casual because of the opening,” I assured Beth, kind of making that the policy. Our guests nodded.
“I love that outfit,” Mrs. Evans complimented. “Very flattering.”
“It’s all part of the club’s clothing line,” Simone explained, vibrating she was so happy to get that in. She explained how the host costumes and some of the burlesque ones we were coming up with would all be for sale through the club; orders could be placed through the website.
After that, we got down to food, not having too much time left before we had to get ready for the opening.
“You said a breakfast burrito bar, and that’s genius to start with,” she agreed. “But with three hundred people, some massive men, we need more.”
“We were also thinking a pancake station with all kinds of fruit and additions, plus moving on to some heavier seafood. The parties I’ve done appreciate courses almost instead of throwing it all out there and then you’re starving when the party is more than a few hours because well, it’s breakfast and lunch.”
“So you’re saying have that ready for when people arrive at eleven, with coffee and juice and then do games, some other stuff, whatever, and then move into a lunch around one before cake?” the friend checked.
“Yes, we can’t fit three hundred in the hot tubs, but we figured maybe breaking it up?”
“And we don’t have all our hosts available because they’ll be rehearsing with the new choreographer,” I added, letting them know we had to do something because of our limitations.
“Could we watch that?” her friend asked, eyes wide. “That would be the best intermission to the party ever. Have a few drinks at the daiquiri bar that’s right there and just chill before we start the next course? Or eat cake during it?”
Laila sat next to me on the table, and I realized she was trying to help but also needed me. “That might work if your dancers are okay with it, as when I spoke to the choreographer coming tomorrow, she was planning to first see your entire set with costumes and the whole works so she could make any adjustments to help the shifters, as the others were used to fairies. You’re apparently so much more gymnastic than my people.”
“I also want to eat squirrels when I shift, so you don’t have it all bad,” I teased her. I nodded to Simone I was ducking back out of the meeting, taking in her frown as she wanted to be in on the stuff with the queen. “We can’t do all food up there, but maybe some shrimp in the coolers? Stuff like that. Depends on what everyone’s okay with.”
“Before you go,” Jacqueline interjected, bringing something over at a quick pace. She set down a partially done cake and gestured to the cut out in the second and third layers. “I don’t know what you had planned for dessert—”
“Individual cakes,” one of the friends told her. “Square ones that looked like gifts to take home with fondant and bows.”
“No, I can’t make three hundred individual cakes in less than forty-eight hours, even naked ones,” she declared firmly. “And whoever agreed to cater an event so big with those saw you as money and nothing else because the team and hours that would take are insane. This is last minute, and I don’t even do fondant, as it jacks up the price.”
“What do you suggest?” I asked before she went off in a rant she was so tired.
“Do several monochrome cakes with different separate tiers and an elegant spread that are decorated with white chocolate flowers and real ones and a white chocolate drizzle around the edges. Then inside have it blue and pink layers with one layer that’s childish. Rice Krispies treat or cookie, brownie, whatever. Do people know what the baby is yet?”
“No, we were going to announce it at the party and have them write suggestions for names since we asked people give gifts towards the college fund instead of a registry, no matter how much my mother-in-law bitched about that. Hey, if people want to buy us anything else, awesome, but that takes the fun out of things when they can’t get what they want.”
“I agree,” I chuckled, waving Jacqueline to go ahead.
“So if someone can get me blue or pink candies tomorrow, I can put them in this section that will be cut out of all the cakes so that’s the announcement. It spills out after they see both layers wondering if you were going to tell them twins.”
“That’s awesome,” Mrs. Evans agreed, smiling widely. “This is going to be so much fun.”
I snorted. “And cost a fortune.” I winced when Simone shot me a look. “Sorry. Kids weren’t ever in the cards for me, so I never got int
o any of this stuff. Not even weddings where they spent so much money.” I nodded to our potential client. “I love the college fund idea. That’s really practical.”
She thanked me, but her friend gave me that look lots of women did when I said I wasn’t ever having kids… That one of sympathy, bordering on pity. “You can’t have kids?”
“I probably could, but I grew up being bounced around shitty foster homes. The last thing I feel I could ever be is a good mother, and with my job being so dangerous, I refuse to bring a baby into that life. I can’t put a kid first because I’m in charge of protecting every paranormal in the Midwest. That’s not fair to the kid or the people I might fail.”
“It takes a strong woman to know her limits and say it’s okay to admit them instead of letting society or people push her into something she’s not comfortable with or doesn’t want,” Mrs. Evans told me firmly.
I blinked at her a moment and then smiled. “Thank you. You’re the first person to not give me a look like I was lacking something for not having the mommy gene or pity that I was screwed up as a child.”
“I didn’t…” Simone started but then trailed off. “I did, but in my defense, you told a bit more to me about how screwed up your childhood was than you did them. It’s hard not to have your heart break when you hear that, Sera. It’s not pity but hurt because you deserved better.”
“Thanks. I’m starting to realize that, and what Eva explained to me, while it hurt, it will also help in the long run. Let me know what you need me or the wolves’ help with when you work all this out. I’m going to sit in the back with Queen Laila since we have a lot to discuss.”
Laila raised an eyebrow as she followed after me, thinking she was going to bring stuff to me and here I was ready to pounce on her.
Yeah, it was fun to shock people.
16
“Fairies make plants amazing. Elves animals. What is it that brownies do?” I asked Laila point blank as we sat at a table near the boys. I felt better just being close to them with the threat, no matter the business I needed to handle.
“Not pixies?” she challenged, smiling when I let out a huff. “You thought they were legend as much of the literature says. They are nearly extinct, as Russia saw to that many, many years ago. The only ones left in hiding not at my court are in danger, and we are trying to find more.”
“Fine, brownies and pixies.”
“Brownies are good at perception.”
“Making them good thieves, as I heard all brownies are thieves,” I clarified. She looked less than thrilled at the assessment but didn’t deny it either.
“Pixies are health. Fertility especially, which was why they were hunted. It was believed falsely that ingesting the sex organs of a pixie would give anyone the ability to conceive or even bring them back from the brink of death. Some insane healer a thousand years ago came up with a wild theory so as to not be blamed for a royal couple not being able to conceive. Except some knew pixies were real.”
“That is so fucking gross and disturbing at the same time,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You know I want to help, Laila. I do. I also know you haven’t put it all on the table for me, so let’s start. I won’t jerk you guys around or rake you over the coals.”
“Yes, I believe that now after months of working with you.” She smiled when I shot her a look. “Sera, for as much as you have seen, you are still a babe, naive in the ways of so many paranormals.”
I nodded but waved over a few people when I saw them enter from the kitchen. “Matriarch Dorcas has yet to try the fairy nectar, and both she and my mother wanted to be a part of this meeting.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the guy with the pitcher of nectar agreed as he set it down with glasses in front of us as Joan came rushing over with her arms overloaded.
“Joan, thank you for handling all these extras. I think Jacqueline might need some help if you’re available.”
“I can make myself, Alpha,” she assured me as she set down shopping bag after shopping bag on the table, dipping in a small curtsey to Laila. Then she handed over Leo’s tablet, as I’d asked him to find some stuff for me. I thanked her again, and she left us.
“Are these my presents?”
“No, the present is my insight,” I informed her, taking everything out of the bags. She raised an eyebrow at the odd combination until she caught the passion fruit trend.
“Passion fruit wasabi mustard? Truly?” she muttered, taking the bottle.
“Yes. Look at the price.” Her eyes went wide when she did. “That little thing is almost ten bucks because passion fruit is hard to get in the US. Normal grocery stores don’t even carry them, and when you can find them, they’re a joke in price.”
“The way humans make things harder for themselves astounds me. I could see if it was some rare Asian or African fruit in the middle of nowhere, but it comes right from South America.”
“Yes, but there’s the slight problem of people sneaking in drugs into shipments, so it makes it hard for anyone honest, especially if their governments are corrupt.” I held up my hand to stop whatever she was going to say. We didn’t have much time left. “The point is it is the way it is. However, just what they’re growing in the greenhouses, they way overshot again. They’re working so hard to make you happy with the output that we’re swimming in passion fruit.”
“And you are not complaining but bringing me business ideas to fund more refugees?” she checked, smiling when I nodded. “So what are you saying? Start making these products?” She checked out the juices and the syrups, seeming unmoved by the mom and pop looking products.
“There’s more to this idea,” I assured her. “I want to get a better spin on this besides immigrants coming and taking jobs.” I waved her off when she started to say something. We both knew it was more than that, especially since so many paranormals lost their jobs when they were found out. “Dain can make appear a latte when I need it but also something from my closet when we’re across town. Is that typical?”
“No, Dain is not young and from a powerful bloodline,” she answered, studying me closely. “The distance complicates it. If they were in the same house, it is next to no chore.”
“Watch this,” I told her, handing over the YouTube video Leo had found for me. She frowned and took it, playing the short video from How It’s Made that showed glass bottles. I could see the confusion swirling in her eyes as she tried to put the pieces together fast so she wasn’t blindsided. “So recycled glass being remade into new glass takes less energy and can be up to ninety percent of the product.
“Do you have any idea how much is in landfills? Lakes, oceans, rivers even from people being jerks. Now what if fairies and whoever else could help did? Yes, for recycling to use to make the bottles used for fairy nectar, as that one plant made lots of things. But also for a whole line of fairy products. Sure, passion fruit juice because it’s so good for everyone, but not just that. All the expensive fruits that people want but can’t get here unless they have money.
“And more than that. Do you know there’s a worldwide bee shortage? What about elves raising them? Some to release that are needed, but no one will do that because of the costs and they don’t know enough about the species, whatever. I have no idea on all of that besides I was allergic to being stung when human.” I realized Alena and Eva had joined us, and I waved them to sit. “And jams made with honey have less sugar than ones made with cheaper sugar.
“Plus, with fruits most can’t get, the market is big. The wax can be made into candles, and I bet Nina could do something miraculous with them if she were given some help in all the supplies she needs. The amount of tea she goes through is a joke, and having easy access to it would mean more output, which a lot of people want to have access to and distribute. Plus, I’ve learned that there are witches in the Middle East that are looking for a safe home.
“Add to that, you want to make more fairy material and you need cotton, wool, and silk—though we need to talk specifics on
that, as you invited Southern Alphas, which is great, but out of my FBI jurisdiction since I handle the Midwest. But also, people were talking about getting caviar for the restaurant, and I bet your chefs would love that too. If they’re good with fish and animals, I bet that wouldn’t be too hard.
“Oh, and they were talking about flowers when we were leaving. Do you know how much calla lilies are? Especially out of season? Rare roses and flowers that are all the rage? How many could one of your greenhouses produce? Enough to hire lots of workers and clippers? Drivers to get goods to Vegas? Get some back?”
“Anything else?” she asked, her tone amused.
“Yes, as much as I thank you for all you’ve given the club in old costumes and flare, start a damn ostrich farm. Do you have any idea how fucking expensive the feathers are? I mean seriously, they’re just feathers and cost more than buying clothes. You have the right climate in the desert. Get us some feathers and save some more elves.” I shot her a smile as I slid Alena the notebook I’d been writing in. “Oh, that’s right, Nevada has a one paranormal to one refugee rule.”
“And you do not here, I assume?” Alena checked as she opened the notebook.
“No, as Illinois has one of the highest unemployment rates with so many production jobs being sent overseas and several other economic reasons that hit our area hard. There hasn’t been an established limit yet here, but I would guess there would be a ceiling for one person unless that person is FBI and would be a real sponsor as opposed to brushing it off. You have no limits in Greece either?”
“No, we do not,” Eva confirmed, looking over Alena’s shoulder. “Your mind is astounding, Granddaughter. You did all of this on the drives to and from your hunting?”
“Yes, after we all talked.” I nodded to the chef who had brought out what I’d asked. “Passion fruit gelato we’re thinking of adding to the menu, but you should try it.” He set a bowl in front of all of us, and I moaned as I took a bite. Damn, it was good. Next, we tasted the syrup he’d thrown together. “Have Simone’s meeting try this please, as it would work for the pancake bar.”
