Panties, Calamities and Hungry Creatures (Grimstone Island)

by Rochelle Pearson

But the clumps of hair I ripped out...

  “Maybe not look at people directly?” I tried. Really, I did. Yet the laugh bubble escaped.

  “Screw you.” He snaps and put the car in gear. “And just for doing this,” he jabs a finger at his shiny exposed scalp, “you’re the one who’ll get out at every stop.”

  I sigh. It was only fair... laughter came over again.

  Devin shoves my feet off the dash.

  ***

  Silence in place during the ride, the market was the first stop. Besides the few items Ma requested, I remembered back in the cabin, my own fridge appeared a bit bleak. I got the usual: meat, tons of carbs, and one zucchini, mingled next to Ma’s groceries. Afterwards, I couldn’t hold back another instigated altercation, this time my opponent: the self-checkout machine.

  A little kicking occurred too.

  An employee, a young male elf, did his best to cease the flip flop slapping I wailed on the screwy unfazed checkout screen.

  “I PUT THE DAMN ITEM IN THE BAG! QUIT SAYING I DIDN’T, YOU ROBOTIC SHITHOLE!”

  “One moment. Help is on the way,” it said.

  “HELP IS ALREADY HERE!”

  “Hardly.” Grunted the elf as he removed me yards away through a crowd I managed to attract. “I’m not the licensed practitioner you need for what’s going on in there.” He wiggled a finger at my head.

  I just blinked.

  Once all items were purchased, I beelined for the van. Devin had the side door open.

  “Why are people coming out and staring at you?” he asks while I deposited the plastic bags and hopped in.

  “Because I’m hot.”

  Devin laughed so hard, he doubled over and hit his head on the horn.

  Later we made it to the cleaners, Squeaky Scream, where I lugged several dress tops, trousers, and pressed designer jeans to the car.

  “Is it weird that Uncle Liam likes wearing bedazzled jean pockets?” I ask, buckling in.

  Devin got into the lane leading to the next to last stop. Hooray!

  He nods. “Absolutely. You haven’t seen his newest pair, though. Customized.” He waggled his brows. “He’s got studded up the leg: Banjo Wizard.”

  I groans. “Who’s permitting this?”

  “Some company online.”

  “We should find them and burn down their operation.”

  “Another agreeable point.”

  “Awww, look at us.” I beam. “Gettin’ along and devising mass destruction.” I grab his face and plant a wet kiss on his cheek.

  “Driving here!” A front tire hit the sidewalk curb. He quickly straightened, then wiped his cheek with a shoulder.

  Sweet Suffering, the last run out before getting Lola, sat on my side. I bolted in the pastry shop. Sadly, the trip wasn’t to be for blissful pleasure. No, Ma needed her pre-ordered three dozen cupcakes for a little cousin’s birthday.

  I whimper upon entering. And keep whimpering while getting handed the boxes by the shop’s owner, Seraphina, an angel. Literally. Even more pathetic whimpers performed when exiting. The angel’s assistant, Broch, a demigod, held the door open and sent me a sympathetic look.

  They knew their frequent pastry addicted customer couldn’t break to wreak havoc on the display case. The glass spotlighted today’s special:

  Apocalypse–black frosted fudge maggot brownies with white chocolate shavings.

  The Strain Chronicles–raspberry jam filled crullers. Red strawberry flavored popping magic smoke emitted from the dough.

  And Creeper–a dark gray breaded cupcake with green buttercream swirled frosting and topped with a single caramelized bat ear.

  A string of drool slipped down my chin.

  “I can ring them up for you,” Broch suggested. His porcelain, chiseled features a mask in hope for my sake. “Just give me a few minutes–”

  I shook my sugar aroma filled head at Zeus’s son. “Not today.” Eyelids blinked rapidly. Allergies, I swear.

  “Okay.” Broch nods, solemnly. He pats my arm. “I understand. I’m sorry, Kokoa–”

  “No. Please, don’t make this any harder.”

  A sudden car horn causes us to jump.

  “GET IN THE DAMN CAR, ALREADY!” Devin shouts.

  Broch squints at him. “What’s happened to that guy’s hair?”

  Devin curses, slaps a hand on top of the offending bald patch, and quickly ducks.

  I cast one last glance at the sweet goodies, their pleas to be eaten dying with every step. Cupcakes secured in the van’s compartment area, Devin cruises to the last place.

  “Thank gods,” he mumbles after breaking in front of The Scalp ’n’ Burn where Lola awaited. The salon was pink, with had large windows revealing occupied seats. A gray-white ghoul woman strutted out; her flapping hairline newly glossed and blonde streaked. Then a peacock-shifter followed, happily fluffing indigo waves. I envied her a little. My straight, close to platinum blonde mane couldn’t hold a single damn crimp.

  I push the side door button to grant Lola access. Her beehive-do in its usual cotton candy poof. I aim to be like Lola a hundred years from now–though not appearing to be such an age, viral as ever, still mooching from Ma, and always in possession of a bloated purse that contained various items including Aliens Are Among Us stickers and a jungle knife.

  “Welcome to the fun mobile,” I greet.

  “Oh, Kimmy sent you two,” she muses, settling in. Then she took a good gander at Devin. “My, my.” She giggles at Mr. Baldie who slumped lower in his seat. “I’ve got a black marker in my purse. Two seconds, I’ll have that spot colored in.”

  “No thanks,” he says. A glare aimed at me.

  “So chickadee,” she taps my shoulder, “what do ya think?” She gestures to her dark blonde hair. A charade I was very familiar with, Lola pursed her lips and modeled, tilting her very tall hair every which way.

  “Big and bootyiful. You know this already.”

  “Yes, but it’s still nice to be told. I got added extra of them extension pieces for volume and thickness in the mix so I can do this.” She unzips her purse and extracts a nail filer, lipstick tube, and a switchblade. She shoves the items into the cotton candy hive, making them disappear without a trace. For good measure, Lola did a couple of shakes. Nothing fell out.

  “AH-HA! Am I good or am I good?” She grins.

  “Inspiring,” I say, truly meaning it.

  “Odd,” Devin answers, also meaning it.

  She waves him off. “Anywho, before we split, I need to do a drive by at Talula’s Beasts.”

  I let her request slide without protest, even though I was ready to pick up my own vehicle and head home. The car clock read five.

  Oh, shit. Three hours til–

  My head ducked in between my knees.

  “What are you doing?” Devin demanded.

  “Nothing. Just drive.” I gulp in air. It wasn’t until we’d reach Talula’s, an exotic flower shop, the crashing hyperventilation attack subsided.

  As The Scalp ’n’ Burn’s quaint, pastel colored twin, Talula’s Beasts front peeked through poison ivy vines, and carpeting moss. The paneled windows’ opaque visibility commandeered by the thick foliage for sale inside. Devin clicked the locks open.

  “No need for that, boo. I’m not getting out,” she informs and presses down the window instead of exiting. Devin frowns at me, cocking a brow. I shrug.

  What happened next shouldn’t have surprised me, being that I derive from a very... strange lineage.

  And yet, watching my grandmother take out a mason jar, its contents foretelling serious trouble, my eyes still bulged and my jaw still hit the armrest.

  “GRANDMA, WHAT THE FUCK!?” Devin screams.

  She shook the jar, waking and pissing off the creature inside. From its sudden permeating rotten egg scent, it was a level E Mischief Sprite. Four inches of angry, dark juju, with veiny wings, black insect eyes, razor sharp teeth and claws. The little bugger when activated made a maniacal demon stuck in a shit-fil
led ditch look like a fairy princess.

  Instinctively, I jumped halfway on to the dashboard. Those sprites were no joke.

  “How long has that thing been in your bag?” I ask loudly.

  “Ssh, ssh. Only a few hours.” She coos at it. I wish she’d stop. The green foam substance secreting from its mouth wasn’t cute.

  “Here’s a better question, why do you have it?” Devin asks.

  “I’m on a mission that’s why,” Lola snaps. Orange hair clippings came out the bag next. I squished further on the dash when Lola unscrewed the lid, the clippings dropped inside. The sprite jumped on the hair, sniffing it.

  “That’s it, breathe it in,” Lola says in a low, chilling tone. A wracked in fear Devin unclicks his seatbelt.

  “Nuh uh! Don’t you move!” I tell him then address our grandmother. “Lola, can you please explain your mission?” I expected it to involve investigating a new alien inhabiting Grimstone again but I somehow couldn’t bank on that.

  “It’s classified.” That’s all she said before focusing on outside, specifically the flower shop. The sprite ate the hair. Devin gagged.

  The bright red door to Talula’s Beasts chimed as a lady gnome hobbled out.

  “Bingo.” Lola breathes. The gnome, wearing a sunny dress–no cone hat–held a watering can and began to tend to the multi flowered display.

  It was Talula.

  A silver clip kept her long orange hair neat.

  My eyes dart to the last orange strand the sprite slurped, to Lola’s evil grin, then to Talula.

  Oh, shit.

  “Wait! Lola–”

  Too late.

  She threw the jar outside, shattering upon impact on the sidewalk and unleashing the sprite vibrating with anger. It buzzed into the air. Jerking left then right, seeming confused, it froze, then spun towards the shop. Passing pedestrians were startled and immediately ran in either direction.

  “Come on, come on,” Lola says.

  “What are you making it do?” Devin asks, going pale, though it soon became apparent. Nor did I have to supply that our grandmother just sent out a four inch bounty hunter to target a Crayola haired gnome.

  Talula, back turned, didn’t see the Mischief Sprite until it exacted carnage.

  I closed my eyes. Yet my hearing provided a disturbing soundtrack that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Screams erupted.

  An already noted watering can hitting the pavement with a loud clang, splashing water.

  Running.

  More screams.

  The light hum of the car window going down, followed by Devin retching.

  Terrified shrills.

  Someone shouting, “IT WON’T STOP DIGGING IN! IT’S LIKE THE DAMN THING WANTS TO BUILD A NEST INSIDE HER BRAIN!”

  Devin vomiting.

  And my grandmother laughing like a little school girl. This all continued for what seemed to be several long moments.

  “Kokoa!” she says. “Get off the dashboard and drive me home. I’m thinking I deserve a nap.”

  I risk opening my eyes, though refrained from glancing at the rampant noises coming from the shop. I had two questions. One was immediately answered when I noticed the driver seat was empty. And Devin nowhere in sight.

  “Your brother hopped out the window like a little pussy,” Lola says. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

  Luckily, he kept his mess on the street and not where I need to operate the vehicle.

  My last question regarded Lola’s previous classified statement, and why it had to do with a random shop keeper but Lola started emitting loud open mouth snores. Plus, I just realized we were right near the scene of the crime, in proximity to witnesses.

  I burnt rubber.

  In the end, it’s for the best that I don’t know what goes on during Granny’s free time.

  Chapter Four

  By ten past six, I was in my, Lucas, and Piper’s cabin, where Piper soon found me curled in a fetal position on the couch and soon in seconds, I was once again being dragged. Presently, through a wood floor hall towards my bedroom.

  “Haven’t you been checking the time? It’s getting close to your–”

  “Don’t say it!” I yell from the floor.

  “Gods, you’re such a loon. Precious required prep time just wasted. And you,” she stops, one hand on her narrow hip, the other pointed at my pathetic form, “need a whole lot of prepping, my friend. First, a shower. You smell like rotten eggs and cupcakes.”

  Scrubbed clean and smelling of lemon and roses, Piper and I assess my closet. Strange, how low sounded cloth ruffles and murmurs conversing about my badass granny–Piper’s words–suddenly turn into loud running.

  We simultaneously turn to the door seconds before it bursts open.

  Boom!

  A red faced and out of breath Lucas screeches to a halt.

  “Hiya, nerd!” I wave a frilly blouse at him. “I went to the market and bought more of those seahorse crackers you like–”

  “ATTENTION!” He interrupts. “I need someone to check my ear.”

  Piper and I exchanged an unalarmed glance. Simply a “How can we flip this and somehow discard his unconscious body in Serpent Lagoon without it appearing criminally motivated” type of glance. Hey, I was already an accessory to one crime today.

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?” I cave and ask.

  “There’s a ladybug in it,” he confesses. Piper clucks her tongue. I snort.

  “Lucas–”

  “I’m serious!” His voice cracks. “Wait...” The merman whom I actually classify as a friend and publicity associate froze, eyes in a dead panic. “I hear buzzing. Please, someone check!”

  “Can we back up to when you saw and felt it fly into your ear?” Piper asks. “I left you at the beach after breakfast–”

  “NO TIME! It could be laying eggs as we speak.” Freezing again, listening. “Yup, I definitely hear a bug giving birth.”

  I mimicked Devin and gagged.

  “I vote you leave it alone.” Piper smirks. “There’s nothing wrong with supporting all kinds of life–”

  “NOT WHEN IT’S UNAUTHORIZED AND INSIDE OF ME!”

  “Chill out!” Piper yells back. “One problem at a time and since you won’t disclose how it happened although I bet on you rolling on a patch of grass somewhere, showing off to a bunch of girls–”

  “For your information I was doing back flips.”

  “Well, let this be a lesson. Now, it’s Kokoa’s turn in the issues department.”

  Can’t argue. I went to Lucas and hugged him.

  “Go pour beer in the ear. See if that helps.”

  He brightened at that and ran off.

  “Over the sink!” Piper advised then pulled me back to the closet. “On to you. You know I’m still a bit prickled over the fact you didn’t tell me you were sending the Adrian Galzra nude pics.”

  “Semi,” I correct, feeling my cheeks burn.

  “Mmhmm.” She arches a green eyebrow. “I could’ve helped. Been your photographer. I can relate to attracting kinky guys. You know me, bitch. I would have made the whole thing a lot special.”

  “How does one make sneaking semi nudes into a stranger’s car special?”

  “Scrapbooking them.”

  “Oh, gods.”

  “Really.” She laughs and dodges a sequined tank top I threw. “You both may one day commemorate how y’all met. Look at Trevor and I–till this day we still have quickies in the same back alley where he first arrested me for selling Pixie Dust.”

  “The troll hobo infested alley on 666 street? With the ‘No Loitering’ sign?”

  “Of course. But we’re not standing there. We’re screwing.”

  I grimace.

  “Besides, Trevor’s a cop–free pass!” Piper turned to Lucas as he returned, drying his ear with a paper towel.

  “I think I got it,” He reported.

  “Lovely,” Piper grinned. “I have a task for you. Find Kokoa some nic
e high heels. She keeps them under her bed,” Piper ordered before taking the risk of her life to dive into my closet.

  “I don’t know anything about shoes,” Lucas complained, looking panicked.

  “Sure you do,” I said. “Remember last week, when you started flirting with another woman in front of the nymph whose number you’d just gotten?”

  Lucas shuddered. “Rebecca.” He cringed. “I didn’t know that other chick was her mother. What about it?”

  “Well, I need you to find the same type of shoe she took off and busted you upside the head with.” I had been there that glorious day.

  “Oooh, I get it.” He nodded, going to his knees beside the bed. “You want a dainty open-toed, with strap, and a needle point heel that’ll leave a welt that size of a tennis ball on guy’s forehead and cause him to worry about a concussion since he’s lost all coordination for the next hour?”

  “That’s the one!” I kept my smile from faltering once thoughts of his man-whore ways swirled in my frontal lobe. Lucas hid behind every ditz with boobs instead of getting his shit together to finally face the only woman who had captured his heart, and whom he makes it no secret he pines for. And yet his endless tricks to get her attention in his arsenal is useless against the honey in question, Yasmin Tora, a tigress. She’s a bartender at Club Kitty—the best place on Grimstone. The problem: she doesn’t take any pile of steaming crap—including, Lucas’s ridiculous attempts at flirting.

  Then there’s Piper’s whacked situation with Trevor Rockford, a gargoyle who’s a cop for the Supernatural Crime Force on the island. Her on again—off again lover on a good day.

  These days, it’s rocky—see what I did there?—because he’d pulled the wool over her by slapping on a tracking device on her ankle. Now he’ll be better prepared the next time she wants to vandalize his car.

  Wow. I did a shudder dance. The three of us were truly meant to be together to share the woes of confusing love with each other. Yep, fucked up BFFs for life.

  You’re not in love, an overly loud voice in my head reminded me. At least not yet, and the lucky fellow could be anyone, though light years away in my future.

  This thing with Adrian wasn’t a test to see if he qualified, let me assure you now. Plus, I wouldn’t even consider tonight as a date. No, this is a much-needed get-to-know-you-better gathering in a very romantic location.