Tad scoffs at the thought. “They’re not getting rid of me, Lizbeth. I’ll hide out. I’ll prove all that gas-smash baloney is just a get-rich-quick scheme—off your jewelry.”
“She has no jewelry,” I say, stepping over. Mom is the most bling-deprived wife on the planet, no thanks to Tad’s inability to provide her with an ounce of anything that sparkles and shines, sans the glitter she’s covered with at the moment.
A row of miniature Mason jars filled with gold encrusted tubules catches my eye.
“What are we making?” I ask both Misty and Beau who flank my mother proudly, each busying themselves with the craft at hand. Misty proudly holds up a glob of elongated paste covered with glitter. “Poopy!” she shouts with pride. Her dark hair and those Gage Oliver blue eyes make me melt on cue. Damn Demetri for creating such perfect children.
“Unicorn poop,” Mom corrects. “In fact, we can’t sell it fast enough. I’ve got thirteen more orders just in the last half hour!”
“What?” I reach over and pick up a bottle of what appears to be glittered-covered turds floating in water and I hand it over to Laken for inspection. “Who’s ordering this and why?” Clearly people have far too much spending money to ever be safe with.
“Everyone.” Mom tosses up her hands in the air and gold dust rains from her limbs.
“It’s her new little hobby.” Tad gives an arrogant grin. “I set up a shop for her on eBay, and all she does now is sell crap.”
“Profitable crap,” Mom is quick to correct. “I make about five bucks a bottle, and the buyer covers shipping. My little hobby is how we plan on paying for the fumigation we need to have done. Not to mention the fact I’ve cornered the market on glitter-covered fecal snow globes”
Oh, my dear God. There it is. Tad has finally driven my poor saint of a mother to the brink of insanity, and in order for her to give her children the most basic necessities in life, she now wades in shit full-time. Scratch that saint comment. Demetri has turned her into quite the devious vixen. One of these days I’m going to bust her balls over the fact Misty came from an out-of-marriage arrangement, but, tonight, like any other night, Demetri is just a means to an end.
“Why don’t you ask Demetri for the money?” The words fall from my lips like rusted coins. “In fact, I bet if you asked for a new house he’d throw that in, too.” Okay, so he may not be my favorite demon, but dear God if he could stop my mother from rolling in crap just to survive—a dollar or two from that devil wouldn’t be a bad idea. Not that I personally would take a demonic dime from him. Asshole. Although technically, living in a house that Demetri paid for would amount to the same thing.
“You know”—Chloe picks up one of my mother’s fecal treasures and gives it a quick shake—“unicorn shit is great and all, but vaginas are all the rage right now.”
The room grows eerily silent as the entire lot of us secretly plots to muscle shut the talking vagina herself.
“Vaginas?” my mother practically whispers, but the labial intrigue on her face is unmistakable. My mother might have a tiny obsession with procreative parts in general so the intrigue is almost understandable. Almost.
“That’s right.” Chloe smacks the glorified Mason jar back to the table with a wallop. “Vagina pendants are sweeping the country. It’s an iconic symbol of feminism, not to mention the curves and texture are practically a work of art.”
The quiet hush continues to suppress the room as I gauge how worried I should be that Chloe seems to have a superior understanding of the vajayjay subject matter at hand.
“Vaginas, huh?” Mom’s anatomical wheels are spinning as she looks to the ceiling. After all, profiting off pink parts is only a stone’s throw from turds bathed in glitter.
“Bagina! Bagina!” Beau barks it out, inspiring a laugh from both Mia and Rev. Soon Misty joins in on the vaginal fun, and, swear to God, Tad’s face just froze in an unholy grimace.
“Crap,” Laken hisses under her breath. “We’d better get going.”
“Yes.” I’m quick to agree. God, I’m so embarrassed that Laken had to witness firsthand the lunacy that is my family. Who am I kidding? That lunacy is the norm. We overbreed, and come up with outrageously bad ideas while our financial means remain just above the poverty level. If my mother’s life is any indication of where I’m headed I’ll have eight kids before my twenty-fifth birthday, my boobs will be swollen milk jugs that everyone on the island would have had the displeasure to ogle by then, and I’ll be filling Mason jars with glitter-covered poop because that’s the way things work in our cult. “Chloe”—I growl over at her because it just so happens the she-devil and I are in a private cult of our own at the moment—“why don’t you wait outside before you start a mini feminist revolution without meaning to?”
She clicks her tongue my way. “I more than mean to start a revolution. And every revolution I start, I plan to finish.” Her dark eyes flit to mine as she takes off.
“That girl is a menace!” Tad barks.
Oh hell, I’m agreeing with Tad on every single point tonight.
“Maybe Chloe should be here with you when the fumigation begins.” A girl can dream. I give my mother a quick wink as she takes the baby from me.
Mom takes the baby from Laken as well and doubles her pleasure as she bounces and coos the handsome boys in her arms. “Grumpy old Tampon doesn’t mean any of that silliness.” She nuzzles her nose to Barron’s.
Laken gasps at the mention of Tad’s quirky moniker.
“And on that note, I’ll see you guys on the flip side.” I give a quick wave.
“I’ll keep the boys in my room tonight!” Mom shouts after me. “I want you to sleep in, Skyla! Preferably not alone.”
My cheeks burn bright as Laken and I make our way toward the door.
“She’s subtle.” Laken gives a quick chuckle.
“She’s also far too hopeful for her own good. Gage Oliver isn’t getting laid tonight.” The sweet spot between my thighs bucks as if it begged to differ—begged being the operative word. Damn Kegels.
Holy hell. My entire body catches fire at the thought of that boy running his tongue down every last inch of me. I do miss the view of his dark head at the base of my thighs. My breathing grows erratic as Laken, Chloe, and I make our way outside into the arms of the cool Paragon mist.
“You okay?” Laken presses her hand to my forehead as if reading a fever.
“She’s fine,” Chloe is quick to snark while gingerly removing Laken’s hand as if she owned me. In a very real way Chloe does own me. “She’s been misfiring orgasms for the last two weeks. Did you strap that diaper on like I told you to in an effort to keep the wild rivers from drenching your panties?”
“You’re disgusting,” I say as we head to Laken’s car.
Chloe links arms with me as we stride down the driveway. “I’d offer to buy you a dildo, but since you have access to Gage Oliver himself, you and I both know it would be sacrilegious.”
“She’s right.” Laken gets in and we follow.
Laken and Chloe don’t agree on anything.
But they are right.
And both my uncontrollably wet vagina and I happen to agree.
The bowling alley’s sign blinks on and off, a feature that isn’t at all purposeful as much as it is a symptom of an electrical short in the system. The L in bowling has altogether given up. It had months ago, if not years. For the first time ever, I see the entire block shape building as a sad reminder of an era gone by, and deep in my heart I wonder if that’s symbolic for Logan and me as well. I haven’t given my white knight a sexual thought since our honeymoon ended—or at least not that I wish to acknowledge at the moment. Well, there was that one time—all those dreams when we thought Gage was gone last year, and then there was the—okay, hell, I’ve had a sexual thought or two toward the fair-haired Oliver, but that’s not the point. I knew I would be with Gage after Logan passed away, and I fell into his strong arms willingly and quick. But, technically, Gage and
I are separated, perhaps forever, and dear God, I need a husband, past or present, to put out this fire heating up my panties.
My heart pounds unnaturally as we make our way inside. The bowling alley is lit in neon lights, streamers and vinyl records decorate the place at every turn. Bree mentioned Logan gave her carte blanche to do as she wished, and true to Bree fashion, she has successfully transformed the place from a struggling bowling alley to a struggling record store circa 1980-something.
“Cool.” Chloe dons a pair of white shades as she bops her head to the Go-Go’s who scream out their ode to the decade from the speakers. “Oh my fucking wow.” She slides the sunglasses down her nose an inch to get a better look at whatever it is she’s ogling.
I glance around at the thick crowd and am pleased to note that the graveyard revival peeps have all come out in number. I spot the Smite brothers, Casey, and a few of the cliquey girls that have been a hoot to hang out with. But I highly doubt Chloe finds the cemetery suicide squad drop-your-sunglasses-worthy.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Then I see it.
“Oh, Skyla.” Laken sighs into the sight as if even she were taken aback.
There he is, hair as dark as a raven’s wing, those lucent eyes the color of this spinning marble we’re stranded on, the body of a linebacker, that grin rising in my honor filled with wicked and deliciously lewd intent. Holy hell. Heaven help me. It’s clear all thoughts of bedding Logan Oliver have been violently wiped off the table.
Chloe takes a step toward him. “Gage Oliver does not fight fair.”
Laken steps up next to her in an odd show of alliance. “Gage Oliver in a suit is quite the sight to behold.”
Wesley pops up next to him, and she takes in a quick breath as if burned by a flame. “I’d better go find Coop.” But her feet stagnate and she twists toward Wesley’s comely frame instead. “Coop thinks Wes stole my virginity.”
I’m pulled from my Gage-inspired trance a moment. “Coop stole it,” I correct. I know this because Laken confided in me ages ago during one of our many fireside chats down at Rockaway Beach. I specifically remember because I was thrilled to know Wes was shut down from the one thing he really wanted—that most sacred part of Laken. If Wes wasn’t willing to leave the Counts for her, then he certainly didn’t deserve to make it all the way to home base. And honestly, if Wes would rather live without Laken than leave that coven of wickedness, he really doesn’t deserve her.
“No, Skyla.” She winces. “Wes stole it.” Her voice is riddled with regret. “I just wish he didn’t. I guess we all have our regrets in life.” She takes off, and Chloe falls into view. My own personal regret.
“Hear that? Wesley stole it.” Chloe nuzzles her shoulder against mine as we glare at the menace in question together. “And all this time he’s been plying me to morph my features before he fucks me because of his desperate ache to have her. He’s a liar, Skyla.”
I swallow hard as both he and Gage head in this direction. “Maybe he is the liar in the equation.” Laken didn’t lose her virginity to Wesley—or at least in that point in time. “Or maybe he’s just the time traveling vagina snatcher?”
“What?” Chloe sounds affronted by the fact her husband’s coital habits span both time and, well, vaginas. “Wesley.” Her voice strums out his name, husky with lust. “I’m so damn proud of him, I might actually bed him tonight myself.”
So much for disappointment.
“Hey.” Gage zips forward in that hot, very, very fucking hot zoot suit of his. The scent of his familiar cologne sets my senses ablaze and, oh my God, I am done. There’s an ache deep in my belly for this boy I just can’t deny.
I zoom past him without so much as a hello, hardly able to catch my breath as an arm snags me to the side.
“Here she is!” Brielle pulls me into a strong embrace. “My one and only favorite best friend!”
I step back with a stunned smile on my face, my body still quivering to completion from the Gage-gasm that just took place. Emily, Lexy, Nat, and Kate stop bobbing to the music long enough to acknowledge me.
Lexy bares her fangs my way. “Logan drove us in the Mustang. You would have loved it.”
My upper lip twitches at her ridiculous stab at driving me insane with jealousy. Of course, I don’t care that Logan drove her in the Mustang he gifted me for my sixteenth birthday. The very one I almost lost my virginity in to him.
“Oh? Is he burning that too next week?” I couldn’t help it. She practically walked into that one. I lunge over and yank Kate into a quick embrace. “You look great.” I pull back and wince. “How are the vocal cords doing?” I feel terrible that she’s stuck with a bum set of pipes.
“Better.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper, and I’m thrilled to hear it. Maybe now we can get somewhere with that bizarre piece of news involving Emma. Not that declaring Emma trouble is any real news. I’ve known that for the last three years solid at least. “You look great, too.”
“Thanks. But you are seriously glowing tonight. I’m so happy you’re back.” Her blonde hair hardly looks damaged after lounging in a casket for as long as it did. In fact, Kate looks just as alive and ready to thrive on the dance floor as any of the girls here tonight. “You all look great.” I make a face at Lex. “Even you.”
“Be nice.” Chloe wraps her arms around me from behind and rocks me to some old Madonna song. “I’ve seen those pictures she’s taken of your monkeys. I’ve always suspected Lexy was good to have around for a reason.”
“I am good to have around.” She gives a thankful nod to the Bitch Squad leader herself. “Logan is especially appreciative. Our relationship is moving along nicely, thank you very much. Maybe you can talk some sense into Messenger, Chloe. Logan is just waiting for her blessing.” She looks to me, pleading as if she honestly believes her own bullshit. “You have your man, Skyla. You can’t have mine.”
Chloe laughs as her chest rumbles against my back. “Skyla can have all the men she wants, Lexy. You and I have always known that. If Skyla wants to fall on her knees to enjoy Logan as an afternoon snack, sit over Dudley’s lap during school hours, and bed Gage nightly, it’s her right and prerogative as our fearless leader. After all, it’s her ovaries that will produce the heirs to both the Fem and Celestra legacies.”
Kate’s face contorts. “Is that what’s happened since I’ve been gone?” she whispers her loudest.
“No.” I wave off the foolish idea, but my body embroils in heat at the visual. A bite of Logan’s tender loins, sitting on Marshall in all the right places, and Gage—letting him take me aggressively from behind, on top, sideways, the thought sends me panting to an all-new high.
Em grunts at the sight of me. “She’s exiled herself in a self-imposed celibacy—hence the heavy breathing.” Em’s hair is in a perfect black rainbow over her head, and set against her paper white skin it creates a haunting contrast. “Geez, take your husband home tonight, Messenger. Horny isn’t a good look on you.”
“Chloe trained Ember to say vagina.” It blurts out of me as a means to distract the masses from my own smoldering girl parts. God, Ember wasn’t even in the room during that three-ringed circus Chloe was conducting, but I’m sure, soon enough, she’ll join the feminist choir.
Em grunts as if holding back vomit. “I’m going to break your neck, Bishop.”
And just like that, Em drags Chloe off while Lex discusses the latest fashions with Kate and our quasi-West reunion disbands.
Nat leans in. “Thanks, Messenger.” Her arms fall over me hard as she offers up a caustic hug. “You gave Pierce back to me—and on top of that you gave me Kate.”
“Yes, well, I also unleashed far too many Kraggers into the world for it to ever be safe again, so don’t go thanking me yet. Things never end well with the K clan running amuck on the island.” I give a quick pan of the vicinity for the Kraggers in question and spot Emerson slam dancing with a couple of the dead on the dance floor. “Sure, they seem to be on the right side of
the celestial law at the moment, but, let’s face it, their father is one of my least favorite wild cards, and who knows what will happen in the name of family solidarity.” Wait. Did she say Pierce?
Just as my mouth falls open to correct her, Pierce Kragger himself pops up and drapes an arm around her shoulders. He looks every bit as nefariously handsome as he should—considering he’s really Nev. Right?
“Hey babe.” He offers Nat a nonchalant kiss before reverting his attention to me.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I shake my head frantically. “Nev? Is that you? You’re still in there, right?” I narrow my gaze as if trying to see beyond those pastel eyes, straight into his questionable soul.
He laughs with his hand pressed to his chest as if my words had the power to kill him all over again. And if it’s Pierce, this may not be such a bad thing.
He grimaces. “Relax, Messenger. I heard about the ruckus and as soon as I found out Holden and Emerson were about to feel sunshine on their backs once again, I wanted in. Plus, it’s for a good cause. I’m all for helping out our Nephilim brothers and sisters.”
“First”—I hold up a finger still completely in the dark as to where the hell Nev is—“there is no sunshine on Paragon. And second, if you were still alive, I’m betting you would have sided with the Barricade.”
“True and True. But I’m an optimist about the weather—and I’m dead, Skyla. I see the error of my ways. I’m siding with you. Your mother agreed, and here I am. Just touched down this afternoon.”
My God you’d think he were transported here on a 747 rather than the Candace express. “And Nev?” I’m almost afraid to ask. Ezrina is going to slice me to ribbons if my mother saw fit to haul him back to paradise. Who’s going to rub her feet and do an ice cream run at midnight? Me—that’s who.
Pierce gives a quick glance over his shoulder. “He’s here somewhere. I’m just a traveler. Sort of like a temporary Visa holder. My cellular structure isn’t solid but I look every bit as strong as steel.” He pounds his chest like a gorilla and his hand goes right through his shirt, each and every time. “She thought it’d be okay since the mission was to expose our people. What better way to expose them than with a real live ghost?” Both Nat and he guffaw as if it were the most hilarious thing.
Crown of Ashes Page 35
