Tinsel in a Tangle

by Kimbra Swain

  My sparkling silver gown stretched to the floor shimmering under the cool fluorescent glow of the holding cell. The room turned colder as frost formed on the bars between the gangly fairy and myself.

  “My Queen,” he said, trying to bow, but his peg leg slid on the concrete. He found himself before me on his knees.

  Suppressing an immature laugh, I asked, “Why have you called me here?”

  “Forgive me, but these human lawmen do not understand our ways. I hoped you would intercede for me in allowing me to leave this jail. I meant no harm to the creatures. I love animals. See,” he said screwing his peg leg off to show me intricate carvings of various animals all around it. “I’m working on this new one here. It’s a wild hog, a razorback.” He beamed proudly at his craftsmanship, but once his eyes turned to my cold, blank stare, he gulped.

  I stood transfixed by the utter ridiculousness of the situation. I put my hand up politely refusing to hold his wooden leg. “Why were you torturing Mr. Giles’ livestock?” I asked, standing over him.

  “It’s just what I do. How I have fun,” he said.

  “You will not do this in my city. Do you understand? I cannot intercede if you are a menace!” I replied with force.

  He cowered before me. “Yes, my Queen, please forgive me.”

  “The fairies in this town live by the rule of law. I see to it that they do. In turn, I protect them. However, if they cross the line, they pray that Sheriff Maynard catches them before I do,” I informed him.

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand,” he said, leaning forward and kissing my shoe.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Lamar,” he replied.

  “Well, Lamar, you will spend the night here. If you simmer down, Sheriff Maynard will let you leave tomorrow. However, you must promise me that you will not torture any more livestock.” I said.

  “I promise,” he muttered, sounding defeated.

  “Cow tipping?” I questioned.

  A large grin passed over his face. “Yep, with my peg leg. I just tap them with it, and kaboom, they flop over,” he giggled. His laugh sounded like a donkey, and he slapped his knee for good measure. “Only that last time, the cow fell the wrong way, and I got caught.”

  “The cow fell on you?” I asked.

  “Yep, he pinned me good. I was hollering for help, but the good farmer left me there while the lawmen were called,” he grumped.

  “Serves you right,” I said with a smile. “Cow tipping is a heinous crime.”

  “Thank you, my Queen,” he replied.

  I turned swiftly before I died laughing in front of him. Dylan continued to smirk behind me. My glamour popped back into place as we passed through the doors. Hurrying to the front door, I let loose as my laugh echoed through the parking lot. Dylan joined me as tears of humor formed in the corners of his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

  “With my peg leg,” I replied poking at him with my finger. We continued to laugh when Troy stepped out of the building.

  “Good grief,” he exclaimed. “Thank you, Grace. He would not shut up. It’s been like that for hours. The guys were about to lose their minds.”

  I waved my hand at him, “No problem, Wolf.” Troy Maynard was a werewolf. One of the few who weren’t fairies in this town.

  “Y’all have a good night,” he said, turning back to the warmth of the station.

  “Will you take me home, Dylan?” I asked, gathering my senses.

  “It will be my pleasure,” he replied.

  “You aren’t staying,” I added.

  “I know. You are still mad at me,” he said.

  “But I’ll give you an hour,” I smiled.

  “I can do a lot of things in an hour,” his face brightened. “Come on, let’s go!” He eagerly pulled me to his car, practically shoving me in the passenger seat. My laughter returned as he tore out of the parking lot, heading for my double wide.

  December 13th

  Waking up to the smell of coffee brewing has to be the most glorious way to wake up. However, alone in a cold bed isn’t so fun. I jumped up, starting the warm water in the shower when I heard Dylan’s voice in the living room.

  I threw open the door and stared at him. “Well, good morning, Sunshine,” he quipped.

  “Your hour was up a long time ago!” I protested.

  “Yes, it was. I went home, slept and returned this morning. Levi invited me in for coffee,” he explained, kicking Levi in the shin.

  “Ow, um, yeah, coffee,” Levi said, flicking channels on the television. He took a sip of his coffee, eyeballing me over the rim of the cup. Both of them waited with bated breath for my reaction.

  I huffed, turned on my heels, slamming the bedroom door. Listening intently, I heard them both suppressing laughs. The bastards.

  My shower didn’t last as long as I had wished because I heard a commotion in the other room. Jumping back out of the shower, I grabbed a robe and wrapped my hair in a towel. As I entered the room, I found Levi clutching a crying Winnie in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?” I exclaimed, rushing to her. Levi eyed my robe as it slipped open, and I growled at him.

  “There is a man in the refrigerator,” she cried into Levi’s shoulder.

  “What!” I said.

  “Dylan went over there,” he nodded toward the door.

  I went to the door and stared at the trailer across the street. I liked Bethany Jones, but she had issues. I loved her child, Wynonna, and did whatever I could for the angel. However, Winnie recently became more attached to Uncle Levi more than Aunt Grace, which was a blow to my ego.

  Opening the door, I started out into the cold in a robe, wet hair and bare feet. Mid-December in Alabama isn’t like in Michigan or Norway. It can actually be very mild, but lately we had frigid temps. Even with the sun rising to its apex, there was a thick layer of frost on the ground.

  “You are going to get sick, Grace! Your hair is wet,” Levi shouted at me through the screen door.

  “I’m the fucking Ice Queen, Levi!” I shouted back at him, but admonished myself for using the ‘f’ word in front of Winnie. Ice Queen or not, it was freezing. I hurried across the street hearing muffled noises from the trailer. A scream tore through the air, and I sprinted with the bottom of my robe flinging around my legs. Hopefully, the rest of the park was asleep otherwise they probably got a good view.

  I stormed into the trailer, finding Dylan on the floor wrestling with a strange looking man. A whole gallon of milk poured onto the linoleum floor as Bethany cowered in the corner. Dylan locked arms with him and forced him to the floor with his knee in the man’s back. The man howled in pain.

  “Get down, mother fucker,” Dylan yelled. “Vulgar mouth,” I said as he grimaced at me.

  “My Queen,” the man said, ceasing to struggle and putting his face to the floor.

  “Oh, hell,” I said. Staring at the man, I realized that his features favored the idiot from the jail last night. His arms were long and gangly. Beady black eyes stared at the floor as he paid reverence to me. I shot a look at Bethany who was actually one of the few complete humans in the town. “Get him out of here, Dylan.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, hauling the fairy man up and dragging him out of the trailer.

  “You okay?” I asked Bethany. She nodded silently. “Winnie is with Levi. I don’t suspect she will want to come back for a few hours. We will take the intruder down to the jail, Okay?”

  She nodded again as I left the trailer with no other explanation. She looked half out of her mind. I wasn’t sure if it was from the intruder or if she’d had a long drug trip overnight.

  As I crossed the road, Dylan threw the idiot into the back of my truck and tied his hands with some rope. “Get some clothes on before you get sick, Grace,” he told me.

  “Just a minute,” I said. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Your humble servant,” he said, bowing his head.

  “Your humble ass is going to sit in
the back of my truck until I come back. Got it?” I said.

  “Yes, my Queen,” he responded.

  Dylan gritted his teeth, staring at me in my robe. “Okay! Okay!” I said flinging my hands up in frustration.

  Quickly, I threw on some jeans and a sweater. Adding warm socks and boots to my ensemble, I watched as Levi clicked the television over to cartoons as Winnie sobbed in his arms.

  “You okay, Winnie?” I asked her, smoothing her brown hair down with my hand. She still wore a pair of worn princess pajamas and sparkly purple house shoes.

  “Yes, Uncle Levi will protect me,” she whimpered.

  “Yes, he will. Aunt Grace and Mr. Dylan are going to take the bad man down to the jail,” I said.

  “Okay,” she muttered.

  “Where’s Kady?” I asked.

  “She had to go home last night to prepare for something for church,” he replied. “I’ll stay here with Winnie. We are going to watch cartoons and color.”

  “Feed her,” I said. He nodded in response.

  Grabbing Dylan’s leather jacket off the back of the couch, I walked through the screen door. Dylan waited for me in the yard. He took the soft leather jacket and shrugged it on. I had found the jacket in my closet after his death. It was a huge comfort to me. It smelled like Dylan. Leather, peppermint and musk. He watched me staring at the jacket.

  “You want it? You know I’ll give it to you,” he said softly.

  “No, silly. Just memories,” I said. He grimaced and ran his fingers down my cheek. “I’ll deduct those two seconds from you next request.”

  That made him smile. “In that case,” he said, stepping closer to me.

  “No, let’s get this jerk wad down to the sheriff,” I pushed him away. Turning to the milk thief, I asked, “So, what’s your name?”

  His eyes rose to mine, and he said, “My beautiful Queen, my name is Phil, and I will forever be your servant. You are the sun on a beautiful morning, the air on a crisp day…”

  “Yeah, yeah. Clam it up,” I said, shutting him down. “Hope you don’t mind the cold, but you aren’t getting in the cab of my truck.”

  “I will be satisfied to just be in your vehicle, my Queen,” he continued.

  Dylan chuckled behind me. “Hush your mouth, Dylan,” I said trying not to laugh.

  We climbed in the truck, and I let Dylan drive. He was still laughing.

  “What the hell is going on in this town?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s hilarious,” he continued.

  “Drive, Mr. Riggs,” I said.

  “You need a nickname for me,” he said, backing the truck out of the drive.

  “Like what?”

  “I’d prefer something manly,” he replied.

  “Like Pumpkin?” I asked.

  “No, not Pumpkin. That’s what a man calls a girl,” he said.

  “Well, what do you want me to call you?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. You are supposed to pick it out,” he proclaimed.

  “How about, Slave?” I asked.

  “Keep dreaming,” he said.

  “I dream of you quite often,” I replied.

  “Gunngh,” he swallowed his words. Without looking at me, I could tell his blue eyes were glittering. “Ahem! Oh, really? I hadn’t realized.”

  He made me laugh. “Yeah, sure. 101 ways to torture Dylan Riggs.”

  “Aw, Grace. Last night was torture,” he said.

  “What? It’s not my fault that you got lost in the kissing and time ran out. You should use your time more wisely,” I said. We hadn’t been together since that first night a long, long time ago. Three whole months. I desperately wanted him, but for some reason, I kept delaying the inevitable. He certainly had the opportunity last night, but perhaps, I wasn’t the only one timid about renewing our sexual contact.

  “If you would just quit playing games and admit that you forgive me, we would both be better off,” he protested.

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “Perhaps? Is that all you can say?” Suddenly we weren’t flirting anymore. As his frustration grew, I shrank back into my guarded cocoon. I gritted my teeth, searching for the right words to say, but we had reached our destination. Sitting at the wheel, he waited for me to respond. He slapped it hard with the palm of his hand and climbed out grumbling. As I slid out of my side of the truck, I felt like a piece of crap.

  He untied the weird looking fellow and dragged him toward the door of the jail. A couple of deputies standing in the parking lot recognized Dylan.

  “Hey, Riggs, you need some help?” one of them called out.

  “No, I’ve got it,” he responded hauling the guy to the door. “I need my head examined.”

  The strange man started to buck away from Dylan. “No, my Queen, please don’t execute me. These men execute wrong doers.”

  “I execute wrong doers,” I spouted at him with more frustration with Dylan than for this crazed fool. “What were you doing in that house?”

  “Taking milk,” he responded. “I love milk.

  I looked at Dylan, and he shrugged.

  “You are going inside to think about what you did wrong. You can’t just go into people’s houses and steal milk!” I said.

  He hung his head and said, “Yes, my Queen. But I got in trouble once before taking mother’s milk, so I switched to whole cow’s milk.”

  “Mother’s milk?” I asked.

  “Yes, right from the source,” he cooed.

  “Holy hell,” I choked out.

  Dylan escorted him into receiving and explained the situation to the desk officer. She was a plump woman with a name tag that said, C. Dawson. “Morning, Carol,” Dylan said.

  “What did you drag in here, Dylan Riggs?” she exclaimed, but instead of looking at the man, she flicked her eyes to me. Bitch.

  Licking her lips, she fluttered her eyelids at him. The possessive fairy inside me reared her nasty head snarling at Carol Dawson.

  I looked at her through my royal fairy sight to determine if she was human or fairy. She glowed green around the edges, so I knew she was a fairy. I was still trying to tell the difference between different types of fairies, but clearly, she belonged to the woodland realm. However, I only glanced at her as my eyes were drawn to the pulsing heat of fire that rolled over Dylan’s form. It was warm and inviting.

  I leaned over the counter toward Carol who rolled back in her chair. “Mine,” I growled. She nodded her head as fear filled her eyes. Generally, I made idle threats, but the one I laid on Carol with a single word came from that dark place inside of me.

  “Grace?” Dylan said, as an officer took Phil from him, escorting the awkward man to the holding cells.

  I shook off the anger and stared back at him. “Sorry. Zoned out,” I said.

  “You okay?” he asked suddenly concerned. His frustration washed away like it never happened.

  “Yeah, just weird things happening. That’s all,” I explained.

  Then we heard a commotion in the holding cells. Dylan rushed to the door. As I followed him closely, the two weird men embraced each other inside the cell.

  “Brother!” Lamar said to Phil.

  “Brother!” Phil said, patting his brother on the back.

  “What the fuck?” I muttered.

  “Mouth,” Dylan said.

  “Bite me,” I said.

  “How long do I have to do that?” he asked. I blushed, turning away from him.

  As I walked over to the cell, the officer stood stunned at the two idiots hugging and patting each other. “You are brothers?”

  “Oh, my Queen! It’s so good to see you this morning,” Lamar said, without me turning into Gloriana.

  “Good morning to you, as well. Did you behave last night? Is the sheriff going to let you leave this morning?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve decided to stay with my brother, my Queen. I feel for certain that if you let me out, I would tip more cows,” he explained, scratching his peg leg.

/>   I cocked my head sideways watching him scratch it. Dylan snorted right behind me, and I jumped. “Sorry,” he muttered through laughs.

  “This town has gone insane,” I replied.

  “It’s always been crazy. You are just now noticing,” he replied.

  “Apparently,” I said taking his hand leaving the weird-o brothers behind. As we walked out the door, I cut my eyes to Carol Dawson who stared at us muttering something under her breath.

  When we pulled into the drive at the trailer, Dylan sat in the truck and didn’t move. I sighed, knowing he wanted to talk about us.

  “Never mind,” he said getting out of the truck.

  “Wait, Dylan!” I protested. “Wait, please, say what you were going to say.”

  “It’s cold out here, and you’ve already been traipsing around in bare feet. You need to get inside,” he instructed.

  “No, come on, I can’t get sick,” I replied.

  “Inside!” he demanded, pointing toward the door.

  Entering the room, Levi was seated at the table coloring with Winnie. His face flashed with concern when he saw me. I shook my head at him, heading toward my room. “You eat, Winnie?” I asked passing her.

  “Yes, ma’am. Uncle Levi made me toast and let me put strawberry jam on it,” she said.

  “Yummy,” I replied.

  “It was delish,” she replied.

  Looking back at Dylan standing at the door, I motioned to my room. He shook his head. “No, I’m going home.”

  “Please don’t,” I begged.

  “Call you later,” he said, heading back out in the cold.

  “What happened?” Levi asked.

  Closing my eyes, I wondered if I should chase him. I heard his car rumble to life, and I headed toward the door. Slinging the door open, I paced out on to the wooden deck. He looked up from the dash and pointed back at the trailer. I could see him mouthing the words, “Get back inside!”