“Fine,” I griped. “But you are not getting my ass into a Hummer.”
I narrowed my eyes at the embarrassing show of wealth and growled. If I wasn’t mistaken, I was sure the ugly hunk of metal growled back. Awesome. Not only was it gross, it had an attitude.
“We are getting your ass in the Hummer,” Paris informed me as she tossed Raquel a wad of cash. “The Baby Demons will be devastated if we don’t. They worked very hard on the Bachelorette party.”
I glanced back over my shoulder and saw seven little faces plastered against the window of the grand entryway door. Abe, Beyoncé, Ross, Rachel and all three of Charles’ heads were pressed against the glass. They were grinning like idiots and quivering with excitement.
I stared up at the stars as they began to dot the navy sky and pretended to sigh—as much as a non-breather could. Well, at least the girls had brought real money this time. We wouldn’t have to erase memories of the patrons for stealing, not that we’d need much money considering Gemma and Dixie were the only ones who could actually drink or eat.
“Abe will cry,” Raquel added very seriously. “And Charles… I don’t know what in the Hell that little weirdo will do. We have to ride in the pink monstrosity”
As Charles was prone to throwing fits where people ended up as shit piles with faces, I agreed. If this was what they had planned for the Bachelorette party, what was the wedding going to be like tomorrow? A large part of me wanted to run, but the hopeful faces of my friends and the kisses being blown at us from the peanut gallery in the window made me give in—albeit not very gracefully.
“Get in Miss Grumpy Pants,” Gemma instructed. “It’s your party and you’re going to enjoy it.”
“Motherfucker,” I grumbled as I stomped over to the vehicle and climbed in. “This is all kinds of embarrassing and stupid. And where in the Hell is Pam? She’s the only one of us that would enjoy riding in this thing.”
“Said she’s too old for this shit—direct quote,” Paris said with a grin, climbing in behind me. “She and The King are bowing out of tonight to babysit Samuel. She told us if we got arrested, she was planning on letting our asses rot in jail until the wedding tomorrow.”
“Another direct quote?” I asked.
“Of course,” Paris confirmed.
I glanced around the interior and almost gagged. It looked like a hooker’s nightmare or a princess party on crack—either worked. There were tufts of shimmering pink tulle tied to everything that that wasn’t nailed down. Pink champagne was icing in buckets—not that I could drink any unless Gemma was willing to down a bottle or two. But the kicker was the hot pink sex toys littering the entire limo.
“What in the Hell do they think we’re going to do tonight?” Raquel asked, dangling a vibrator fit for an elephant in the air.
“Are you sure they read a manual on Bachelorette parties? Because it looks like a miniature brothel in here,” I said with a snort. I gamely held up a pair of hot pink fuzzy handcuffs and some edible panties.
“Holy Hell,” Dixie laughed. “I don’t even know what some of this stuff is.”
“And you don’t want to know,” Venus said, flicking a set of Ben Wa balls off the seat so she could sit down without being impaled by a toy.
“So where are we going?” Gemma asked as she clicked on her seatbelt to peals of laughter from everyone in the Hummer. “Right,” she said with a blush. “Immortals don’t need seatbelts. Old habits.”
“You guys don’t know where we’re going?” I asked, starting to worry. If the pink Hummer was any indication of what lay ahead, we should all be terrified.
“I know where we’re going!” Fat Demon Doug yelled from the driver’s seat.
“Oh Hell no,” I muttered and I went for the door handle. I could deal with crying Demons, but Doug? Not so much.
Venus and Gemma grabbed me as I dove to make my escape and before I knew it, the Hummer was speeding out of the compound with an obese, jazz hand prone Demon at the wheel.
Just fucking awesome.
“I sure as Hell hope the guys have to ride in a Hummer driven by an unbalanced Demon,” I said as I sat back and squished a monster wad of tulle with my head.
“Ohhhhh yes!” Doug informed us. “The men’s Hummer is rainbow!”
“Is a dancing Demon driving them?” Paris inquired as she was the only one who could speak at this point.
The rest of us were laughing too hard.
“Oh no,” Doug corrected her with great reverence. “They have a dancing Goddess!”
“I’m sorry, what?” I choked out. My eyes grew wide with fear, shock and complete disbelief. Tonight would go down in the immortal history books.
“Mother Nature is chauffeuring the gentlemen this fine evening,” Doug said with a squeal of delight.
And it was all over. We laughed until we cried all the way to wherever the Hell we were headed.
***
“Is this a joke?” I stared at the neon sign of the venue where we were supposed to celebrate my final night of being a kind-of single gal.
Even my bridesmaids were struck mute. No one could believe it. We all sat in the Hummer staring opened mouthed at the marquee.
“Um, Doug, are you certain this is the correct place?” Dixie asked doing her best not to laugh.
She failed.
Doug checked the address written on the paper he had and nodded. “Is this 6669 Boolery Ave?” he asked, squinting at the tiny writing on the paper.
“Yes,” Gemma replied with a horrified expression marring her lovely face.
“Is it called Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow?” Doug inquired.
“Yes,” Paris choked out.
“Then we’re at the right place!” Doug announced grandly. “The party awaits you m’ladies.”
“Not happening,” I said, trying not to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. It was my own fault for letting the Baby Demons plan it. “You know what? I told those little bastards no male strippers. I can’t believe this.”
“They certainly took you at your word,” Venus said, chewing on her lip.
“Not following,” I said.
“There are no male strippers at Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow—only female,” she choked out as she bent forward in hysterics.
I sat back and tried desperately to wipe the silly grin off of my face. Why was I being such a butthole? It really was funny and something we’d talk about for years—or possibly centuries—to come. Was I still torn about what I was doing?
“Astrid,” Raquel said watching me closely. “I know this is rather bizarre, but we are here and you are getting married tomorrow. I say we go for it. None of us have ever been to a bachelorette party before. Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow won’t know what hit them.”
The chorus of begging from my friends and even Doug made me feel ridiculously happy. They were right. We had one life—albeit a long one—and we should live every day to its fullest. I was a Vampyre-Demon with a recent human past I was going to embrace. This was not stupid—well, maybe going to Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow was stupid—but it was planned with love by my questionably sane and classless Baby Demons. We were here and we were going to party.
“I’m in,” I said, as I fluffed my hair and swiped on some more lipstick. “Ground rules—stick together, and if a stripper tries to give one of us a lap dance, someone has to come to the rescue.”
“Sounds good,” Venus said as she adjusted her shirt to reveal a little more cleavage.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I have nice girls. Can’t be outdone by a bunch of strippers,” she replied as she reached into her bra and gave them an extra lift.
“Probably not a good idea to snack on the patrons,” Paris suggested as she, too fixed herself up and made a few risqué adjustments to her outfit.
“Um… that should be a given,” Raquel choked out with a grunt of laughter. “Not quite sure what the quality of blood would be here anyway.”
“
Word,” Venus agreed.
“Will we be the only immortals here?” Dixie asked, clearly excited to be doing something so naughty.
My cousin would be delighted to let her father know she’d gone to a strip club. I was pretty sure he was still under the impression she had stolen all my bridal shower gifts. Dixie was earning a bunch of extra credit from Satan by hanging out with me.
“Oh Hell no!” Doug informed us, finishing up his own primping. “The Bachelor party is here too.”
“Isn’t that wrong?” Gemma asked, confused. “I’m pretty sure that’s a no-no.”
“Um… the entirety of the evening is a no-no,” I said with a shrug and a grin. “It was planned by the Baby Demons. We should expect just about everything to go wrong. Ready?”
After a loud chorus of yesses and a bit more primping, we were good to go. Piling out of the car, we walked across the uneven, cracked pavement toward the slightly dilapidated front door. The excitement was palpable and I was happy. Human traditions might be silly, but they made life worth looking forward to.
We were a motley group, dressed to the nines and on a mission. Prada, True Religion and Gucci had never been worn so well. I was fairly sure we would stick out like sore thumbs especially with Demon Doug dressed as the Indian from the Village People, but I didn’t care. The evening was breezy and the brilliant stars winked at us from above. I was just a young woman out for her final night of single ladydom with her best friends in tow.
What could go wrong?
I was going to enjoy my damned party no matter what happened once we were inside.
Chapter 21
“This place is a dump. I love it,” Doug squealed, clapping his hands together with glee. “Let’s dance!”
The Demon was correct. It was dirty, smelly and all kinds of tacky. My girls glanced around with shock and wrinkled noses, but said nothing. We definitely were over-dressed as most of the women in the joint were clad only in sequined pasties and G-strings.
“This might be a terrible idea,” Gemma whispered, as all the men in the club leered at us with great interest. “I’m pretty sure they think we’re strippers.”
“I’m not stripping,” Paris said.
“No one is stripping,” I told her as I cased the joint for our guys.
Bingo.
They were in a far corner all looking as uncomfortable as we did except for Gareth who was faring quite well. He was receiving a lap dance from a gal with breasts so enormous I was sure she hadn’t see her toes in years.
“What a freakin’ jack-off,” Venus snapped in disgust. She squared her shoulders, swore a few more times and began marching over to the pornographic display.
“I think she likes him,” Raquel whispered with a giggle as we hustled across the open area following Venus.
“Possibly,” I agreed. “But she’ll still kill him for being a perv.”
“That would ruin the party,” Paris said, picking up her pace. “We’d have to erase at least fifty human’s memories and try to explain why the Royal Family and friends were slumming it at a strip bar.”
“Shit,” I muttered. I began to walk-run across the room.
A mirror ball and neon flashing lights gave the club a colorful glow, but it couldn’t erase the reality of what it was. The Kev, Heathcliff, Hayden and Ethan waved with laughable relief as we hightailed it over. Maybe we could leave and go to IHOP or something like that. The smell of pancakes—even if I couldn’t eat them—would beat this place hands down.
“I didn’t arrange this,” Ethan said with a helpless, lopsided grin and his hands in the air. “I had no clue we were coming to a strip club.”
He looked edible in his jeans, boots and icy blue Henley. My fingers itched to bury themselves in his thick blond hair. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. Even in the disgusting bar with strippers and lowlifes milling about, I wanted to jump his bones. I had it soooo bad—or good—depending on how I looked at it.
“Neither did I,” I told him, as I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tight. “How was your Hummer ride?”
“Death defying,” he replied with a shudder. “Your grandmother should have her damned license revoked. Her driving is worse than her cooking.”
“Pretty sure she doesn’t have one, babe,” I told him, glancing around hoping Mother Nature wasn’t within earshot. We didn’t need a destructive natural disaster at Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow tonight. Venus was enough. “Is she here?”
“No,” Ethan said, closing his eyes. “She went back to Nirvana to put the last touches on the catering for tomorrow.”
“Fuck,” I mumbled and then was drawn back into the situation in front of me.
My Vampyre bridesmaid yanked the surprised, busty stripper right off of Gareth’s lap and got in his face. “The things you said to me the other night were utter bullshit,” Venus hissed to a tremendously uncomfortable Gareth. “You’re a liar and a pig.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he said with a careless shrug, but his eyes belied his uncaring tone.
“And that makes it okay?” she demanded, as her fangs dropped and her eyes blazed green.
“Shit, I think we’re gonna have to erase some memories,” Paris said, wringing her hands as the showdown escalated.
She was correct. The patrons were pointing at Venus and growing concerned. I didn’t know what Gareth had said to Venus, but I had a good idea. My brother-in-law was a smooth talking ladies’ man. Sadly, I knew he had it bad for Venus and if he’d made some headway the other night, he’d just fucked it up.
“Can we discuss this somewhere private?” Gareth asked, standing up and taking a few steps toward the seething Venus.
“Nope. Two hundred and twenty strikes and you’re out, asshole,” she hissed. “I was an idiot. Something I will not repeat.”
“That remains to be seen,” he shot back. His eyes had turned green as well. However, he wasn’t angry. He was lusting for her.
“In your dreams, douchecanoe,” she snapped. “Doug, where are you? I want to dance.”
“You are not going to strip,” Gareth snarled, advancing on her.
“No, I am not,” she growled and stopped him with her hand. “But —if I wanted to strip, I would and it would be none of your damned business. Public displays of lewdness are not my thing. I’m going to dance with a classy person who would never betray me.”
“Someone called?” Doug trilled as he jazz-ran over and ended in a pose that made me bite down on my tongue.
I wished he’d at least dressed as the construction worker. The Indian get-up made him look a little girly, but all Gareth seemed to notice was that he was a man. Interesting.
“I called you,” Venus said, as she grabbed the surprised Demon and pulled him close. “I want to dance. Can you make that happen?”
“Your wish is my command, m’lady,” Doug said, sensing the tension with wide eyes and a mischievous grin.
And because Doug was a Demon, he laid a big wet smackaroo on Venus’ mouth. Starting trouble was a Demon’s greatest gift—and Doug was definitely a Demon—a weird one, but a Demon all the same. I wanted to laugh, but Gareth’s eyes had narrowed to slits of jealousy and I bit back my giggle. It was hard to swallow your own medicine, but Gareth deserved it. With a raised middle finger to the furious Gareth, Venus turned and left with Fat Doug the Dancing Demon. They hit the dance floor with a vengeance, Doug twerking like a fool and Venus doing her best to keep up. It was a hot mess, but she’d accomplished her goal. Gareth was fuming.
“She can’t possibly like that Demon,” he snapped without taking his eyes off of her.
Ethan glanced at his brother askance and started to explain the situation. Gareth, in his jealousy, couldn’t see that Doug clearly batted for the other team. I quickly pressed my finger to Ethan’s lips to quiet him. Gareth’s stewing was not our problem to fix. It was his and he was going to have a Hell of a time trying to make it right.
“Do you think they slept together?”
Raquel inquired, enjoying watching her brother get his ass handed to him.
“Um… yep, but I think Hell will have to freeze over before it happens again,” I replied watching Gareth stride over to the small dance floor.
“It froze over once,” Heathcliff said as he joined our conversation. “It could happen again.”
“Possibly,” I agreed. “But highly doubtful.”
Thankfully the customers had moved on from watching the sideshow Venus and Gareth had just performed. Hopefully they were too drunk to remember what they’d seen. No one would believe it anyway. It was simply some fake fangs and green contacts…
Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7 Page 21
