by Gina LaManna
“Of course.” I gestured to my slightly disheveled outfit. “Aladdin. And Jasmine. And Rajah the tiger.” I pinched Anthony’s cheek, dodging as he swatted my fingers away. “And Nora’s the magic carpet, and Clay’s the Genie.”
“I’ll rub your lamp, Clay,” Meg said, giving a low whistle.
Clay leapt off that floor faster than I’d ever seen him move in his life. “No, thank you, I uh…my lamp is an urn.”
I turned to Lizabeth. “Ignore him, that’s not true.”
“I saw the papers, Lacey. You’re my soul mate. It even says so on Nora’s personality test.” Meg burst into heavy sobs. “And I’m a jerk.”
“Hey, you’re not a jerk.” I glanced at Anthony before sitting back on the floor, undoing all his hard work. I put an arm around my friend, cradling her in a hug. “You’re not a jerk at all.”
“But I—” Meg sniffed. “I was a little bit of a jerk.”
“We both were,” I said. “How about that?”
“I – I can’t believe you did all this. Organized all this. Got everyone to dress in costume.” She gestured at Anthony. “Even him.”
“There’s no reason we can’t all be friends,” I said. “Some things will change, that’s the truth. See, I really, really like Anthony. And I really, really like you.” I cleared my throat. “And sometimes, I even sorta like Clay.”
My cousin frowned.
“I’m kidding.” I turned back to Meg. “I don’t want you to ever feel like our friendship is suffering because I’m in a relationship. In my mind, the more the merrier.”
“Not really,” Meg said. “Just one man for each of us, probably.”
“That’s not what I meant, but yes, you’re right.” I sighed. “One man for each of us. Including Clay.”
Clay frowned again, the lines deeper this time.
“Can we call a truce?” I looked into Meg’s eyes. “I miss my best friend.”
“Will you be the Aladdin to my Jasmine? Even if Jasmine can sometimes be sort of a jerk?” Meg’s eyes were wide.
“Hey, Aladdin’s not perfect, either,” I said with a smile. “And look, you’ve also got a Tiger and a Genie and a Magic Carpet who all love you, almost as much as I do.”
“I guess that makes me feel better.” Meg pulled herself to her feet, a mischievous smile twisting her lips. She strolled casually over to Anthony, lifting a hand as she moved. Standing directly in front of him, she patted his head. “You’re my pet, you know that?”
“Watch it,” Anthony growled.
“Be a good boy, pretty kitty.” Meg patted him again. “Also, I’m sorry I’m soul mates with your girlfriend. Actually, I’m not all that sorry. You can take second place, buddy.”
Anthony crossed his arms.
“I’ll explain later,” I mouthed silently over her head. “Sorry.”
“This is all very lovely,” Lizabeth Harriet the Third said, breaking the silence. “But can I please have my crown now?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my chest rising and falling as it constricted in fear. “I’m afraid it’s unavailable.”
“Why?” she asked, a blank stare on her face.
“It’s uh, lost.” I bit my lip.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked. “It’s right there.”
She nodded across the room at Jasmine. I noticed now that the tiara on Meg’s head shone a bit too brightly to be fake. It was also a bit too small for Meg’s head, though she’d managed to tuck it into the wig with care.
“Meg?” I asked. “What is that crown doing on your head?”
“It’s mine.” She curled her fingers defensively around the jewel-encrusted piece. “I found it in Nora’s costume box.”
“That is most definitely my Poopsie’s crown.” Lizabeth said.
“Who the heck is Poopsie, and why does he get his own crown, if I can’t have one?” Meg asked, a hand on her hip. “I deserve a crown.”
“I have a crown for you,” I lied to Meg. “It’s in the other room. But this particular one belongs to someone who is…not you.”
“But—” Meg started.
“Thank you for polishing the crown,” I said, not letting Meg finish. I turned to Lizabeth. “This girl here, she’s our best jewel polisher…er, crown keeper. Meg is very good at what she does.”
“Yes, yes, it looks beautiful,” Lizabeth said. “Well kept, darlings.”
I smiled at our guest before turning to Meg. With an apologetic glance in my eyes, I reached out and tried my hardest to pry the crown off Meg’s head with a gentle touch.
Meg shot me a silent, argumentative look, keeping one hand curled around the rim of the crown. “You’re welcome.”
“Let’s give it to Poopsie,” I grunted, exhaling the last word as the crown came free from her grasp.
Meg tumbled backwards. Thankfully Clay reached out and caught her…sort of. He mostly just softened her fall, since they both ended up on the floor again. But Meg didn’t look all that sad about landing on his lap. Instead, she patted his head. “You make a great Genie.”
Clay beamed a bright pink through his blue cheeks, while I took the moment to look down at the crown.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, striding across the room before anyone else could take it from me. “Poopsie is a lucky dog.”
Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third reached a wrinkled hand upwards, her fingers brushing against mine as she took the crown. I waited with bated breath while she examined the thin golden ring, the pointed spikes laden with rubies and sapphire-colored gems.
Lizabeth’s frown deepened.
The room fell silent.
My chest constricted as the client’s guards hovered nearby, hands dancing around their waists, guns surely lying in wait.
“Watch your hands,” Meg said to the men, pulling herself to her feet. “Don’t you be getting all grabby with your guns around here.”
“Meg, it’s okay.” I put a hand on my friend’s shoulder as she moved to stand in front of me. “Really.”
“No, it ain’t okay.” Meg said, crossing her arms. “She’s here with two bodyguards, and you got none, and that’s not fair. Well, now you got one, ’cause I’m here, which makes it sorta fair, since I’m badass.”
“Isn’t he a bodyguard?” Lizabeth nodded at Anthony.
“Nah, that’s her boyfriend,” Meg said.
“How come nobody thinks I’m a bodyguard?” Clay asked, also pulling himself to his feet. He stood next to Meg. “I’m Lacey’s bodyguard numero dos.”
“You two are not armed,” I said. “And you’re wearing very little clothing.”
“Both of those statements are false,” Meg said. She plumped up her chest a bit, her Jasmine-esque bra jangling with the motion. “I am not naked, and I am armed. I got two guns on me.”
“Where in the world can you fit two guns on you?” Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third looked morbidly confused, in the way that people gawk at car crashes. “It’s impossible. I can see…everything.”
“You don’t know impossible, lady.” Meg winked. “I’ve got secret places. Plus, I’m protected. This bra is bulletproof.”
I pointed a finger at Clay. “It was for Meg? You used Veronica to make an invention for Meg?”
“Of course it was for me,” Meg said. “I put in a special order for a blue, just as soon as I knew what Clay was up to, and once I decided to be Jasmine for Halloween. I had a little something made for you, too…Clay, did you bring them?”
Clay’s face turned a bright red. “Yes.”
“Well?” I asked. “Can I have my present?”
“No.” Clay’s ears suddenly matched the color of his face.
“Don’t be shy,” I said. “And don’t hog my present. What is it?”
“Well,” Clay said. “That’s tricky.”
“It ain’t tricky.” Meg walked over to where Clay stood against the kitchen door. “But I have a suspicion of what happened, and why your present is indisposed at the moment.”
Clay looked away, his face scrunched in pain.
“Let’s test it out, shall we?” Meg gave an evil cackle.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Meg reached over and knocked right on Clay’s private parts. The sound was hollow, bouncing off the kitchen walls. Clay didn’t so much as flinch. But his neck flamed a cherry red, giving his blue-painted face a unique purple tinge.
“Aha. I knew it.” Meg crossed her arms. “Let me explain. See, I had his and hers bulletproof undies commissioned by Clay. Mine was a bulletproof bra. And yours, Lacey, was a bulletproof pair of boxers. Anyone could shoot you in the crotch and you’d be completely safe. You know, since you were going as Aladdin, I thought a his and hers present would be fitting. Since we’re basically a couple now.”
Anthony cleared his throat.
“It’s just for one night, buddy.” Meg shook her head at him. “You can have your girlfriend back tomorrow.”
“But what about the rest of my body?” I frowned. “Like my stomach, head, and chest?”
“Jeesh, lady. We’re still working out the kinks,” Meg scoffed, as if my request was utterly ridiculous. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I’m not exactly begging for bulletproof boxers.” I scanned our clients to see if they were weirded out yet.
“I’m listening,” Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third said, confirming my worst nightmare. “And I like what I’m hearing. Creative juices are flowing here. Unique ideas, outside-of-the-box tactics for keeping a target safe…do you all offer your services for hire outside the Luzzi family?”
Meg raised a hand without hesitation. “I’m available to anyone who pays the right price. For any sort of arrangement.”
Nobody commented, but she continued to wave her hand in the air with pride.
After a minute of silence, Clay also raised his hand. “Depending on the terms and conditions and the fee, I have a menu of services I provide for the right client.”
Lizabeth looked my way. “And you?”
I swallowed. “Who, me?”
“You seem to be the leader of this gang,” Lizabeth said. “Would you consider working for me?”
Shocked would’ve been an understatement to describe my reaction. I’d never once considered myself a leader, first of all. Secondly, I’d never once expected that the skills I’d acquired in the Luzzi family business might be valuable elsewhere. And lastly, I’d never really considered leaving the Family ever since I’d joined.
“Wow.” I tried several times to clear my throat. But instead of sounding dignified, it sounded like I’d swallowed saliva down the wrong pipe.
Bending over in a fit of coughs, my face turned beet red as Meg slapped me on the back. Lizabeth looked on with concern. Even Poopsie howled along with my choking sounds.
When I’d recovered my breath, I glanced first at Anthony, then back to Lizabeth. “That’s very kind of you to ask. Incredibly generous.”
“And?” she asked. “Will you consider it?”
I’d been about to say no, when I changed my mind. Considering an option didn’t mean that I had to accept it. In fact, the chances were high that I’d never hear from the woman again after today. She could be asking as a formality, a kind gesture of sorts, pure southern politeness.
And, on the off chance it was a serious offer, I could always think about it. In fact, for selfish reasons, it was a good idea to consider it. Competition bred better pay, better working conditions, etc. If Carlos saw my services as more valuable, maybe he’d think twice before turning into a meanie over the smallest of things. After all, he’d sent me in to deal with the sharks. He’d never expected me to tame them, and I’d proven him wrong. The knowledge gave me immense satisfaction.
“I would love to discuss further business opportunities,” I said, extending a hand and shaking Lizabeth’s outstretched fingers once more. “Thank you for considering Lacey Luzzi Services for your future needs.”
Lizabeth stood, hoisting the bag over her arm higher, snapping her fingers at her two guards. “I’ll admit,” she said with a smile. “At first, I was offended Carlos himself wasn’t here to greet me. I have invested no small amount of money in his protective services, and I expect only the best treatment.”
I bowed my head. “He wanted to be here, and he sends his deepest regards.”
Anthony made a nearly inaudible noise in his throat, only loud enough for me to hear.
I jumped as Lizabeth rested her hand on my arm, her touch light and feathery. “I know when a woman is lying. Carlos could be here if he wanted.” She looked into my eyes, her gaze softening. “But I see now why he said his granddaughter was handling my case.”
I blinked. “Carlos said that?”
She nodded. “He said that the crown was in your competent hands, and that I would be pleased with your services.”
“And you are?” I couldn’t hide the surprise from my voice.
“Carlos and I have our differences, certainly. I’m just happy to see that he’s a smart enough man to surround himself with qualified, intelligent women.” She gave a curt nod in my general direction. “Please let him know I will happily be employing Luzzi Protective Services in the future.”
“By Luzzi – do you mean Carlos or me?” I blurted, unable to help myself.
Lizabeth Harriet Morgan walked towards the door, turning at my question. “Why not both?”
I gave a shy smile. “Thank you, so much.”
“Let’s go, Poopsie. You too, boys.” Lizabeth smiled. “I’ll be in touch.”
Without thinking, more words tumbled out of my mouth. “Would you like to stay for our Halloween bash?”
Lizabeth pursed her lips. “A bash, you say?”
“Upstairs, in the ballroom. We had a Haunted House set up for my little cousins tonight and a few of their friends. The rest of the guards, Carlos and his wife, and most of the other Luzzi staff are there, if you have any interest in meeting them. It’s a Monster Bash.”
“Yo, is that Haunted House still open?” Meg asked. “I want a trip through.”
“It’s not open now…” I started, but seeing our client’s interested gaze, I changed my tune. “Not open at the moment, but it could be, if there’s enough interest.”
“I fancy getting frightened,” Lizabeth said. Then she shook her head and pointed at her guards. “But these two are big babies.”
They both frowned, but didn’t comment.
“Let’s stop upstairs and grab you a beverage and some snacks,” I said, praying that Nora had, in fact, catered the party instead of attempting to cook the food all by herself. “I’ll get our Haunted House staff back in place. It will be easy, since the decorations are ready to go.”
Filing out of the kitchen, I led the way upstairs, a sense of satisfaction seeping through my bones. Sure, some of tonight had been sheer luck and timing. But the fact that Lizabeth had asked about my private services had to mean I was doing something right, even if it was putting on a good show.
I’d file away the idea of starting my own company for a later date – it was interesting, for sure. Something I’d never yet considered. Though I might not be ready at the moment, I would never say never about a future venture. With the right incentives, it could be a lucrative business. And potentially legal, which would be nice for a change.
“Here we are.” I gestured to the ballroom as we ascended the staircase. “Please, make yourself at home.”
“This is magnificent,” Lizabeth breathed. “What a ball.”
The room itself had been transformed into a magical orange and black themed masterpiece with silver highlights throughout. Intricate carved pumpkins glowed around the room. Lit solely by candles, the air seemed to flicker, feeling alive, pulsing with the beat of the music radiating from the DJ’s stand up front.
Standing on the raised platform behind the music booth was Ira Bliss. I gave him a wave, surprised to see the yoga instructor who’d nearly given Carlos a heart attack, performing at the DJ tur
ntables tonight. Karaoke had been set up along the far wall, and extensive, themed decorations lined every surface. Truly, the place was a work of art.
“Wow,” Meg said. “You Luzzis know how to throw a party. Look at that food!”
Along the other wall, a long, buffet-style table sat laden with every sort of Halloween food imaginable. Cupcakes adorned with candy corn, sugar-pumpkins, ghost-shaped Peeps, and buckets upon buckets of trick-or-treat style candy filled the room.
A fully catered meal of crackers, meats, fancy cheeses and olives, grilled veggies and other healthy stuff balanced out the sugar-fest. And, most importantly, bottle upon bottle of imported champagne lined the far edge of the table.
“Help yourself,” I said, gesturing to the tables. “Happy Halloween!”
Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third showed her appreciation with a soft golf clap in my direction. “Well done. Thank you for the invitation.”
Lizabeth headed towards the champagne table with her two guards in tow. It was at the same time she reached the table that I spotted Carlos, as far away from Ira Bliss as possible. His face changed from surprised to concerned as he noticed Lizabeth. When he locked his expression on me, however, it was merely confused.
“Watch this,” Meg said with glee. “It’s about to get good.”
She threw her arm around me, and together we watched Carlos stride across the room and approach Lizabeth. They shook hands and exchanged a few words, both of their expressions unreadable. All at once, they both turned in my direction, and both Meg and I busied ourselves examining our respective nails.
“That was embarrassing,” Meg said. “They caught us staring. Maybe we both shouldn’t have been staring. So from now on, how about I’ll just stare, and you putz with your nails.”
“That’s not fair, since they’re probably talking about me.” I lightly hip-checked my friend, a smile on my face. “I want to stare, too.”
“How do you know they’re talking about you? Maybe they’re discussing patent rights for my bulletproof bra. It is newsworthy.”
“True.” I reached out a hand and gave one of the bra cups a squeeze. It didn’t so much as budge, solid as cement. “That’s impressive.”
