The Accidental Unicorn

by Dakota Cassidy

  In a matter of moments, a huge man with gold chains and high-top sneakers named Darnell had arrived, along with Carl, a pale green, childlike zombie, and the cutest elderly gentleman—in a sharp black suit and ascot—Vinnie had ever seen, named Archibald. The manservant, as he called himself, whisked in with a recipe book and bags of groceries and a vacuum, handing out orders to everyone who stood in the kitchen.

  They’d swept in like a tour de force and taken over Oliver’s lovely home. Archibald had begun cooking breakfast, Carl played with Baloney, and Darnell kept watch by the windows.

  She’d heard all the stories about them from Khristos and Quinn, so when Oliver began to balk about the time he was taking from these strangers’ lives, Vinnie reassured him this was part of the OOPS package. It might get loud, it might get messy, but they’d do their best to help him find his way through this.

  Now, as Vinnie sat at the island, straightening the salt and pepper shakers so they aligned with the napkin holder, Oliver leaned over and asked, “I sense a fellow organizer in my midst.”

  Yet again, she’d forgotten not to fiddle with other people’s belongings. She was a horrible fiddler. She liked things in order. For instance, her canned goods were stocked in her pantry in alphabetical order, her clothes were arranged in her closet by color and season, and her shoes were lined up, toes facing forward.

  For some—okay, most—she was unnerving. She left people feeling like they couldn’t measure up to her standards. If she were honest, mostly men felt that way. Women seemed to take her quirks in stride, but tell just one man he’d put away a can of creamed corn in the wrong place, and you were suddenly akin to having the plague.

  Along with her anxiety, she had a touch of OCD, both of which made for a difficult time in the dating pool. So she’d stopped dating altogether.

  Vinnie moved her hands away from the salt and pepper shakers and back to her lap in guilt. “Sorry. It’s a bad habit.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind, and I don’t think it’s bad. I like things in order, too,” he assured her, his voice husky and warm. “Since I’ve been doing renovations on this place, it’s been a fight to keep things together so I know where everything is. It makes me nuts when I can’t find a tool or a list of what comes next.”

  “Lists!” she almost shouted in joyful agreement. “I love lists. They make everything right.”

  “I have a list for my list,” Oliver joked, sipping his coffee.

  She nodded her head with a return smile. He got it. “Organization gives me life.” And it was the truth. She began to feel overwhelmed when things were out of order.

  Likely because her childhood, while happy enough, had always been in complete chaos. Her mother was a clutter bug, she was always late, and there were always endless piles of things everywhere.

  Vinnie lost track of the times she’d heard her mother yell across their living room, “Honey? Have you seen…?” fill in the blank.

  It made her anxious, but she could appreciate someone who didn’t think she was rigid and inflexible because she liked her kitchen faucet to sit squarely in the center of her farmhouse sink or the pillows on her bed to meet equally in the middle.

  Oliver grinned, and even though he really looked ridiculous, he was so attractive, the horn was easy to ignore and she couldn’t help but respond.

  “Same here. I can’t breathe if things aren’t where they belong. According to Susan Baldwin, my mother, I’ve always been this way.”

  “Some might call you rigid.” She chuckled, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. Had that sounded stupid? She was so awkward around the opposite sex—she’d always been—but Oliver had this calming nature that drew her to him. She couldn’t explain it, but she’d felt it when they’d met at the front door

  He winked. “Oh, believe. Some have. Some have even called me inflexible.” His blue eyes grew a little distant when he said it, but when they returned to focus on her, he was smiling again.

  She mock gasped. “No! The heathens.”

  “You’ve heard that before, I’m guessing?”

  Sucking in her cheeks, she bounced her head. “If you only knew how many times I’ve heard that. But then I don’t spend my weekends having to do a ton of housework because I didn’t keep up with things all week, either.”

  He cocked his head, his dark hair gleaming and shiny as it fell around his horn. “How do you spend your Saturdays?”

  “Ahem,” Nina said, jamming her face between them. “I hate to interrupt this touching moment from Adrenaline Rush Dating, but didn’t you fucking say you had a client you have to meet today before you can hand this shit off?”

  Oliver winced and ran his hands over his thighs. “I do, and I love her, and I’m not handing her off to the dick I work with. Excuse my language. I took my vacation time, so I’m good, but I have to do this one thing. I have to go because she’s a cute little old lady, and I won’t have her badgered by my colleague, who’s more interested in saving a buck than finding ways to give her as much as we can squeak out.”

  He sounded very passionate about whatever it was he did for work. She liked that because she was passionate about her work, too.

  “What do you do for a living?” Vinnie asked with interest as she found herself leaning into him in order to take another whiff of his cologne.

  He smelled clean. She liked that. Maybe she liked that too much. He had a horn, for the love of Zeus, and plenty on his plate. He didn’t need her sniffing his hair, for cripes sake.

  “I’m a housing developer.” His answer was simple, but she had an idea what he did was anything but.

  “Do you mind if I go along? I can’t be a lot of help in the muscle department. I’m just plain old me. Though, I think you have the brawn covered with Nina. But I’d like to grab some things from my office at the college that might help us to decipher what to do next. Why go alone when I can conserve gas and go with you guys?”

  Marty returned to the kitchen with a huge wad of gauze and some tape, her blue eyes shining as she held it up. “You ready?”

  Oliver gave her a skeptical look. “I feel like telling everyone I’m concussed is going to be a stretch. A concussion usually doesn’t come with a protrusion from your forehead.”

  The plan, in order to give Oliver the chance to handle this client he refused to leave to his co-worker, was to wrap his head and pretend he’d been in a minor accident, resulting in some head trauma.

  Now, granted, this might stretch the boundaries of believability, but it was worth a shot because he wasn’t letting this issue go, and the worry he might run into someone dangerous, who’d find out he had the mark of the unicorn, was too worrisome to let him go alone.

  “Well, we’ll just see about that,” Marty muttered as she began to unravel the gauze with determination in her eyes. “I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to wander up to you and ask you if you’re hiding a unicorn horn, right? Most people will likely just look away, and maybe some will even laugh a little behind your back as they wonder what’s going on under your bandages. But so what, right? It’s nothing compared to the spectacle you’d make of yourself if you wandered around with it uncovered. But unfortunately, this isn’t just the best idea any of us have had, it’s the only one any of us have had. If you’re determined to make this meeting, we don’t have many options.”

  As Marty lifted her arms to begin her work camouflaging his horn, Oliver grabbed her hand and squeezed it before letting go. “Thank you, Marty. I don’t know if I’ve said that yet, but I appreciate this. I know you’re all doing your best to help me and I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful—because I am. I really am.”

  He was kind, too. He loved animals. He was organized. He had a sense of humor.

  He was super attractive on all fronts.

  Marty tweaked his cheek and grinned, making Vinnie admire the fact that they’d been up all night and her makeup was still impeccable. “It’s just what we do, Oliver. We help. Well, Wanda and I help. Nin
a taunts and calls names, but eventually she’ll help, too.”

  Oliver laughed, the lines around his eyes wrinkling. “And threatens. Man, she’s good with a threat.”

  Marty snickered before she said, “Now, listen, I’m going to try and be gentle. I know this is very sensitive, but give a yell if I hurt you.”

  As Marty wrapped his head, making it almost resemble a crooked turban, Vinnie watched the activity of the household, listened to the sounds of the women and their newly arrived friends chatter, smelled the scent of the delicious breakfast the cute elderly man was making and wondered why she’d always turned down the invitations from Khristos and Quinn to join in the events they attended with these people.

  You know why, Vinnie.

  Fair enough. She did know why.

  She absolutely did.

  As they stood in the square in front of the tall glass and steel building where Oliver worked, Vinnie fought to ignore the strange looks he kept getting from people strolling through the industrial park.

  Marty had taken her job as Head Camouflage Designer above and beyond the call of duty. No one would ever guess by the heavy wrap of endless reams of gauze and medical tape that underneath, Oliver hid a horn.

  In fact, Vinnie wasn’t sure how he was able to keep his head from falling backward, he had so much gauze around his skull. To make matters worse, the construction of it was crooked, so it looked as though he had a big, unevenly melting marshmallow on his head. Though, to Marty’s credit, the gauze had managed to stifle the fall of all that glitter.

  But he’d taken it in stride when Marty hesitantly showed him with her compact mirror. Oliver had done the kind thing and smiled and thanked her for making his upcoming meeting less worrisome, while Nina and Wanda fought not to burst out laughing.

  Darnell simply slapped him on the back and told him to avoid short doorways so he wouldn’t lose his head (har-har!) and Archibald had handed him a cinnamon roll with a smirk.

  Now, as they waited for the person Oliver was meeting, Vinnie tried to soak up the beauty of their surroundings. Buffalo in the fall was quite glorious, and looking at the trees helped her to avoid thinking about the impending doom Nina repeatedly warned them could happen.

  So far, all was quiet. No weirdoes crawling out of the woodwork. No one running at them with a saw in hand, prepared to hack Oliver’s horn off and sell it on the black market.

  However, things took a real turn when, as they crossed the square, a group of people stopped and stared at Oliver, whispering and nudging each other.

  “Hey!” Nina yelled out to a passerby who had the audacity to cruelly snicker as she stalked toward them. She yanked her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and held it up. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you checking to see if your eyeballs work? Or are you staring, punk? Because I fucking know you’re not staring at my friend like you just saw a goddamn alien. He has a head injury, you insensitive asshole. Don’t be so fucking rude, shitbird, or I’m gonna put your lame ass in a video and post it all up and down Twitter. You’ll have a nickname in no time, you dick!”

  “Nina,” Oliver leaned in to whisper in her ear, as the group of people moved away as quickly away as their feet would carry them. “It’s okay. Please don’t start a war on my account. I can take care of myself.”

  “The fuck you say!” she ranted up at Oliver, standing on tiptoe, her eyes hidden by dark glasses but surely flashing fire in the morning light. “Maybe you can take care of yourself, Jolly Green Giant, but what about the people who can’t and are just gonna suffer in silence because they have no voice? Bullshit! Those motherfuckers have no damn manners, and I’m gonna show them the inside of their assholes if they don’t get some!”

  “Nina?” Vinnie intervened, hoping to thwart the stares from more people who’d begun to gather when she’d started to rant, and to save Oliver the embarrassment of a colleague accidentally seeing this.

  “What?” she yelled into the square, her voice echoing, her eyes bulging.

  Vinnie held out her hand. She might be socially awkward, mostly riddled by anxiety when it came to male relationships, and so organized it actually stressed people out, but there was one thing she did know how to do. Fake an illness to get out of an awkward situation.

  She was the bomb.com at that. She was also—due to the fact she spent more time observing people than actually getting in the thick of things and interacting—pretty darn good at gauging a person. Nina, though a beast, was an easy mark in terms of reading.

  This vampire was a protector. She was a lot of bluster, but mostly no action unless necessary. She was banking on her character assessment skills now as she held out her hand to the vampire and put the other on her tummy.

  “I don’t feel so great. Could we go sit while we wait for Oliver?”

  Nina’s face instantly transformed as her attention fell on Vinnie. She looked down at her with eyes full of concern. “You okay? Did you have anything to eat before we left? I hear it’s important you fucking eat in times of crisis, but it’s been a long time since I ate, I forget.”

  Just then, a flurry of noise erupted from behind them, making them both turn around and stare.

  By the fountain with the modern art sculpture made of steel in the middle, there were a few curse words thrown into the wind, followed by the rustle of a bunch of papers as they escaped someone’s grasp.

  “There she is,” Oliver said, his tone warm as he pointed his finger in the direction of the person by the fountain who was cussing up a blue streak and chasing the escaped papers.

  Vinnie squinted her eyes, a sudden burst of sun pushing through the clouds making it difficult to see. “Who is that?”

  “My mid-morning date,” Oliver said with a fond smile. “She’s the liaison between the investors and me for the senior housing development I’m working on. She’s been a huge help in keeping it affordable but with enough bells and whistles to attract folks.”

  A senior housing development that was affordable? Gods, he really was dreamy.

  As Oliver began to move with quick strides toward the person swearing, with them following hot on his heels, Vinnie caught her first good glimpse of Oliver’s morning date.

  Which stopped her cold in her tracks and made her grind her teeth together.

  Oh, this was bad. So very bad.

  Nina pulled up short behind her and gave her a nudge to the shoulder with the flat of her palm. “You okay, Proff? Still have a stomachache?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Just fine. I don’t have a stomachache anymore. I have a whole different kind of ache,” Vinnie hissed, narrowing her eyes as she stomped toward the fountain while papers flew up in the air, mimicking the thousand thoughts whirling through her head.

  None of them good.

  When she reached the fountain, Vinnie was so close to blowing her top, she had to clench her fists and her jaw to keep from going directly into attack mode.

  Oliver’s date’s head popped up when she heard the footsteps, her eyes zeroing in on Vinnie.

  And then she smiled wide, her blue-gray eyes lighting up as she held out her arms, so very clearly pleased with herself.

  If steam could emit from one’s ears, it would come out in big shooting gusts from Vinnie’s as she stopped short in front of Oliver and his date.

  From tight lips, she eyeballed her foe, whose face fell when she saw the look in Vinnie’s eyes and the crimson red spotting her cheeks.

  But she wasn’t going to fall for that innocent fawn-in-the-woods look.

  No, that didn’t stop her from growling the word, “Mother.”

  Chapter 6

  Oliver ran his hand over his face and stared down at them with confused eyes. “You’re Vinnie’s mother, Mrs. Costas?”

  Oh. My. Goddess. She was going to kill her. She was going to wrap her fingers around her mother’s delicate neck and choke her out. Yes. Alice Marie Costas was her mother—her married-for-the-third-time mother. Which, when asked, would explain why her last name was
Morretti and her mother’s wasn’t.

  She looked to Oliver, her eyes warm and attentive. “I thought I told you to call me Alice, dear boy?” Then she licked her thumb and reached up. “You have a little something purple riiight there,” she said, swiping her finger on the side of his mouth before wiping the glitter on her thigh.

  Oliver’s eyebrows smooshed together, or at least they tried to, but he had so much gauze on his head it looked like it made the task difficult. “Okay, Alice. Are you Vinnie’s mother?”

  But her mother, always quick to divert, reached up and cupped Oliver’s cheek, her hands, though quite old—far older than anyone would guess—still making her look like she was in, at best, her late fifties.

  “What happened to you, Oliver? Are you hurt, son?” Alice asked, concern in her eyes.

  Vinnie couldn’t help herself. Her head tipped backward and laughed as the sharp wind blew her hair around her face. She laughed so hard, she started to cough and she couldn’t stop.

  Nina slapped her on the back with such force, she almost passed out. “What the fuck’s happening here, All Things Expert On Olives and Ouzo? Why the hell are you laughing?”

  Vinnie held up a hand to signal she needed a second as she gathered her wits, tucking her jacket tighter around her. When she finally caught her breath, she narrowed her gaze in her mother’s direction and shook her finger.

  “Why don’t you tell everyone what’s going on, Mother? Because you know exactly what’s going on, don’t you? You did this, didn’t you?” she yelled, waving a finger upward at Oliver’s crooked head. “It was you!”

  Her mother, with her sweet eyes, graying hair she refused to dye and braided to fall down her back, and quivering bottom lip, looked at her as though she’d gone mad. She held out her hands imploringly. “Vincenza, I don’t understand. What have I done?”

  Leaning in close, Vinnie fought not to scream the answer to the question in her mother’s face. “A spell, Mother. A love spell, to be precise. Sound familiar?”