Shit, I deserve some tarts.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, I devour another insanely amazing breakfast—a meat lover’s omelet with sausage, ham, and bacon, then camp out in the giant living room where I had the Golden Girls playing on the theatre sized screen. Singing along with the intro.
“Thank you for being my—SON OF A BITCH!” I nearly die a thousand times over again when Mezzasalma suddenly appears at my side. Her face is revealed to me now more than it was in her room. Pale skin, wrinkle free and emphasized in heavy, artfully done make-up. Obviously living an immortal life gave her years of talented eyeliner applying skills.
Lucky.
I attempt the seductive, cat eye; it ends in me impersonating a waterlogged drag queen version of Cleopatra.
Meezie—I’m gonna call her that—hops on to the couch right next to me, leaving no space between us.
Um...
It’s not so bad, though, given her close proximity. She smells like garlic and Chanel no.5.
Nice.
“I want to be Blanche when I grow up.” Mezzie speaks. Her voice is pleasantly gravelly. I recover and nod, glancing nervously her way. She’s fixed on the TV screen. A small smile forming.
“Me too,” I say. Who wouldn’t?
“Pause it, hon.” She hops down to the floor and leans in to mush my cheeks, affectionately. “I’ll get Emmett to whip up snacks. You gotta problem drinking before noon?”
“Nmm,” I shake my head, “no.” Mezzie winks.
“Good girl. Be right back.”
***
We were down two seasons, the day waning close to a sunsetting end. I’d eaten cream puffs, sugared strawberries, and jellied biscuits. Thank gods for a superb wolfy metabolism. Mezzie ate her blood added versions, we toasted our glasses of champagne several times throughout the hours.
And each time, I don’t miss the flask and scent of bourbon she pours into her cup.
She’s like my granny Lola.
During hilarious skits of Dorothy and the girls on screen that crack Mezzie up, I receive check in texts from my friends. Most know I’m M.I.A. at Gavin’s place. Piper messages that she’s in Canada with her folks. Nothing on Lucas. A new email, addressed from Jonathan’s base. It was a selfie of him, dressed in beige camo gear, standing in a knee high yellow grass field. Beside him smiles his brother, Lenny. All looking sweaty and tan, but seeming to enjoy themselves.
Kicking ass and missing you.
I smile. Then reply: Being lazy and missing you too.
A few texts from family: Apparently Uncle Liam and his banjo now perform on a newly built stage smack dab in the center of the Grill. Devil Motherfucker, a.k.a. one of my older brothers, Devin, has been temporarily banned from the supermarket. How fun. It’s not the first time a Lovell isn’t allowed to step 100 feet in a specific area. Ma and Pops were doing fine. They know I’m here at Gavin’s too.
But speaking of him, no messages from Vamp Man. Oh, well.
I’ll call later asking how the meeting went and what he and his colleagues are doing tonight. It’s Friday after all. Though, I wasn’t sure about time zones. Anyway, at this moment, Piper, Lucas and I would be getting dressed for Club Kitty.
After watching the cute golden ladies getting dressed up for a function, especially Blanche with her chunky earrings—it reminded me of doing the same alongside Piper. Us, styled in grade A tacky cocktail dresses and on our way to rock the night away. Hours from now, the natural need to act a fool in public under strobe lights will take over—well, at least for me.
Ping!
An inner light bulb blinked on... hell, I can’t believe my brain has the audacity to come up with such a plan.
My best ever. I can’t resist.
“Jefferies!” My voice echoes inside the cavernous ceiling. Mezzie isn’t fazed and continues eating sugar cookies dipped in the red fluid. The butler skidded around the corner, already amused by whatever I’m going to say.
“Yes?” Bushy white eyebrows raise.
“So, I was wondering... if everyone wouldn’t mind partaking in a spontaneous bout of fellowship and camaraderie that involves music, dancing, food and drinks.”
Mr. Butler was taken aback—pleasantly so. A good sign.
“Sounds like a party,” Mezzie says, climbing to her feet on the couch. She brushes her hands on her black outfit, causing crumbs to collect, then gentle fingers undo my messy ponytail and begin braiding the longish blond strands. Jefferies doesn’t remark on her standing on the expensive seat nor do I on her redoing my hair. He takes a seat on a mahogany-colored recliner. Five chin rubs later, he finally speaks.
“I assume you aren’t referring to anything formal.” He grins. It’s quite obvious everything about me isn’t prim and proper. So hence an outburst of laughter.
“Honestly, no. Just something we all can loosen up to. That’s what Friday nights are for.” A holy requirement in life. I am fifty-three percent positive it says that somewhere in the supernatural bible. Mezzie finishes the last braid which is placed randomly on my skull, among others. By Jefferie’s wince, I make a note to avoid all mirrors.
“Jeff, dear,” she hops down, “the girl is suggesting something I wouldn’t have minded doing a long time ago. Those stuffy dinner parties we’ve had in the past were always too uptight for me,” she admits, making a pinched face. “Tonight’s hootinanions shall begin at nine. Call the staff together to begin setting up. Kokoa is in charge.” Mezzie pats my hands and leaves.
I fist pumped the air.
Remember this moment, folks. Because I seriously doubt it’ll ever happen again.
“Very well. I will begin the arrangements. Everyone is invited?” Jefferies stands and bows. I catch brightened excitement in his eyes.
“Of course!” I stand too, adrenaline pumping. I do the robot making the butler laugh. “Claus, Terrell, Blendia, every staff—Oh, and Tim!” Why the hell not? Let’s bring out all the freaks and part-aaaaaayy.
“I’m sure he’d like that. He’ll behave among a room of many,” Jefferies assures me.
“Excellent.” I went to link arms with him and we begin strolling down the hall. He smells like cinnamon.
“Where would you like the festivities to take place?” he asks.
Good question, although my mind is working overtime on other side things—I know exactly the perfect place.
Jefferies catches the creepy Grinch smile that surfaces on my face.
“Oh dear. I’m beginning to regret I asked.”
Chapter Ten
Go big or go home. My decision on the spot was surprisingly approved.
The medieval ballroom on the second floor will receive the love and attention it deserves. That’s right, I’m taking over the giant room with its stone walls and dark wood floors—it’ll be pimped to club excellence. Not too much. It’s a beautiful area and I don’t want it to be completely tarnished by tacky decorations.
I wonder what Lucien would think. I’ve never met Gavin’s grand elder, but according to Jefferies the superior vampire knows all about me and what I’ve been up to in his mansion.
After all, I’m not family.
Ignoring the heebie-jeebies from that tidbit, I’d like to think he will join us for what’s to come.
Hell, everyone else was immediately on board...
“Hi,” I begin once those working today gather in the living room. Twenty in total, including Chef Emmett, Claus, Terrell, Belinda, and the bear-shifter, Marina. The rest I’ve only seen in passing, but who would say hello back, wore curious expressions, waiting for the short wolf to unload all possible hell.
Jefferies gives me a discreet thumbs up.
“Okay, so, as you know it’s Friday—”
Cheers erupt. Naturally. I’ve learned everyone gets off early on this day and are free on weekends.
“I’m putting together a party, a Fuck It, It’s Friday Party where everyone’s invited. We listen to music, dance. It would be a mock club...
thing.” It suddenly occurred some people may have plans, or simply won’t be interested, or may not care to hang around me to come. If so, I’ll just dance with Mezzie and Tim for five hours. But instead of frowns and head shakes, I received a crowd of smiling—interested—faces.
“I like the sound of that,” Terrell says. Others agree.
“Yeah, where will it be?” Belinda asks. After I reveal the location more cheers burst, and some jump in excitement.
“Awesome!”
“I’m definitely going.”
“Text the girls, they need to get back here.”
“Gods, I hope there’s gonna be alcohol.”
Claus raises his hand.
“Yes?” I point to him.
“We are allowed to do this?” His question quiets the group; they turn to Jefferies.
“Masters Lucien and Gavin are aware and approve.” The butler’s answer raises the noise level once again. Claus beams, talking animatedly as everyone shouts out suggestions. Of course, Vamp Man will find out. I can’t wait for that particular phone call about how I hijacked his people and home. I smile at that lovely thought.
“Quiet! Quiet!” Marina booms, standing taller and wider than anyone. She succeeds in her command and turns to me.
“I’m sure you have a plan of attack, wolf.” She grins. “What do you want us to do?”
The Grinch smile returns.
“Gods, that’s terrifying,” Terrell cringes, shielding his eyes.
“I thought so too,” Jefferies chimes in. I throw my hands up.
“Are you kidding me? It’s just a smile, folks!” I exclaim. Belinda cocks her head.
“You sure? You kinda resemble a little evil kid about to shave off your head and burn down a henhouse.” Others nod. Damn, I’d take stealing Christmas over that.
“All right, forget the smile—”
“Can’t.” Claus becomes pale. “It’s etched into my brain.” I wait patiently while everyone takes a few minutes to recover from my apparently creepy face. Although, that coupled with the demonic hairstyle Mezzie created, I can’t blame them.
Moment over, I assign tasks. Leading Group A, Belinda and them were to head to the store for cheap decorations and along the way, call up any other staff members to stop by. I really mean everyone is invited. Terrell and his Group B of techies, including Claus are to set up a DJ station, equipped with sound systems—all items available in a storage area. Marina with Group C was tasked to haul in tables and chairs. Plan in motion, we split in every direction, fueled with determination and eagerness to get buck wild. Not fully, we have to respect Lucien’s home. Belinda and the girls squealed, running out the door. Marina began shouting orders.
I stroll towards Chef Emmett who spreads his arms in a grand gesture.
“We talk of food, yes?”
“Wouldn’t be a complete party without it,” I state. “Although,” reaching, I gently remove his chef hat. He stares at me puzzled, “you won’t be cooking tonight.”
“Is that so? Why not?”
“I want you to be hassle free the whole time. No having to make a bunch of stuff. Running back and forth in the kitchen.”
“But, sweets, I have no qualm providing the food and refreshments,” he said.
“I know but like a club, as sleazy I’m making it, caviar on crackers isn’t what’s on the menu,” I reply.
“Ah.” His eyes widen. “What do you have mind then?”
“How do you feel about catering?”
“Sacrilege!” He protests.
“Convenient,” I counter. Emmett regards me for several beats.
“You are strange. Master Gavin was right about that.” He chuckles softly. Clearly, Master Gavin and I need to have a talk.
“Yes, well you and the whole planet thinks so. Now, how do you feel about spicy exotic food?”
“It is my favorite. We are ordering from a restaurant that has it?”
“Some may consider it to be more of a greasy joint that only the brave venture to.” Heaven, is what I call it. Emmett narrows honey-colored eyes and wags a chubby finger.
“I know what you speak of. The Rabid Sombrero. That hut with its sticky floors, shady cooks and questionable health certificate.”
I match Emmett’s stance. His disgusted tone and specific opinion, sparks suspicion. How would he know the taco hut had sticky flooring, a forged health certificate and a beady eyed ghoul who prepares the burritos?
“That’s the one. But for someone so turned off by it, you sure have it exactly pegged.”
A bead of sweat slips down his temple. Guilt flashes in his eyes.
“Ah HA! You’ve eaten there before!” I dance around the chef. He sighs.
“I have,” he admits. “I am... an addict. I deeply love their nacho, taco bowls.” He says this in a quiet, defeated voice. “If you must know, I go there every other night in secret. They know me so well, I don’t even have to say my order. I sit in the far corner, alone in a booth with my head down and just let the hot sauce and stale chips take me away. It’s... disgustingly satisfying. I-I can’t stop.” I hug and rub his back. No judgment is coming from me. Hey, if a world-renowned chef breaks from the gourmet lifestyle to gorge on sloppy, sometimes mystery meat filled tacos done by a skeletal ghoul who wears a hairnet—that’s his business.
“It’s okay. I’m addicted too.”
“Really?” Relief of not being alone after all brightens his pudgy features.
“Yes.” I nod, taking out my cell phone. “I have them on speed dial. Let’s see how long it’ll take for them to make an assorted spread.”
“We shall condemn everyone as addicts and make them crave it for all eternity.” Emmett does his own slow spreading Grinch grin.
I took a cautious step away from him.
Terrell was right. That is terrifying.
Chapter Eleven
It’s happening.
It’s happening.
It’s happening!
Hours involved in setting up the ballroom came to a close and we all were left with an outcome we couldn’t turn back from.
And it was awesome.
The lights still glare on, dousing the magic which soon will arise. I instruct the room stay lit until everyone is back from getting dressed to witness the reveal all together.
Disco balls are much better looking shrouded in darkness.
The mansion was streaming in staff members who did not know the medieval giant room would be face lifted to the land of dance. Most wait upstairs, outside the closed doors. Marina acts as club bouncer, putting glow in the dark stamps on their hands.
I leave to go slip on whatever I packed to transform into a club outfit.
In Gavin’s room, strewn clothes lay beside me as I tear through my suitcase.
“Nope, nope, not gonna work, no jeans—this’ll do!” I appraise a black pencil skirt and match it with a dark purple tank top. Need shoes, now. I slip on bedazzled flip flops. Hey, I plan on partying hard and though flops are overall sucky footwear—it’s still better than heels.
Halfway through junking my face in heavy make-up, my phone, that drowns in the clutter of products on the sink counter, signals a call.
JG
Jonathan.
I’m not ashamed, I squeal as I rush to answer. The phone, still buzzing, slips from my grasp twice before I click the green button.
“Jonny!” I yell, and bounce like a kangaroo all over the bathroom. The number wasn’t marked his full name since it’s the new number he’s to use while overseas.
“Ko, it’s so good to hear your voice... which just broke my eardrum.” He laughs. His laughter came right from the soul. Those are the best laughs to hear. You can’t help but smile till your cheekbones hurt.
“How’s it going? Are you having fun?” Rhetorical. Not much fun occurs during serious Elite training, although anything physical gets the lion amped.
“Ah, it’s amazing here. I’m doing excellent, and am still baffled I’ve made it th
is far.” His voice softens, awestruck. He’ll never forget this opportunity. This moment in his life—one he’s deserved. I can imagine his golden eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. A part of the many joyful expressions I have memorized. Years of friendship since we were cubs provide the countless happy foolery moments. Foolery, more so, on my part. But Jonny was never one to sit on the sidelines.
Working hard to obtain a position in Pride Elite, is just another example.
He relays the diabolical courses he dominated over the past few days. How competitive he and his brother, Lenny, are becoming—in a loving way. Their dad, who’s a retired Elite Commander and who also traveled with them, is keeping them focused. The bunk room he and ten other sweaty guys share isn’t so bad and he’s gotten used to his bed neighbor, a demon’s, rotten egg armpit smell.
“Honey, that’s sick.” I grimace, while trying to apply mascara. I’m doing a horrible job at it, by the way. I should’ve let Mezzie do it.
“I know but he’s not so bad. I made a new friend too,” he says. Boyish tone giggle worthy. “His name is Roger, he’s an Aussie, dude cracks everybody up without even trying and he’s a werewolf too. He reminds me of you.”
“It’s best to keep people you like in your life.”
“Very true. He ran off a hyena today—non-supernatural—that was about to attack a small pack of wild dog pups without a parent and now the pups follow him around like he’s their mama. Our unit leader let them inside the bunkhouse where they’re huddled on his bed. It brought back the time you and I helped raise those baby ducks when we were fourteen. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah! We made kickass parents. Jonny, you were so upset when they had to leave.”
“They grow up so fast.” He sniffs dramatically. It was a good summer that year. Amidst puberty hitting, and hormones zinging, I began eyeing the lion in a whole new light. However, I stay away from the foreign feeling of how well we did with those ducklings.
The feeling of maternal and Blood Mate calling... nah, I’m definitely not touching that.
“Have you been in trouble lately?” he asks.
Popcorn, Vampires and Forbidden Shenanigans (Grimstone Island) Page 6
