thirteen
I wasn’t completely lying about my summer camp experience. Mom and Barry shipped me off from ages seven to fourteen. I loved every second of it. The crafts, the swimming, the counselors, especially the talent shows. Me and some of the girls always did a Whitney or Michael number. I can still remember all the moves to “Thriller,” and I am a master wallet sewer and beader. They stopped sending me to save money, though Jessie got to enjoy many a summer after that.
I heard somewhere, probably Oprah, kids need structure or they get bored and nuts. Much like adults. So I grabbed Claire after dinner for a pow wow. After the squealing and hugging, I calmed her down enough to brainstorm. We came up with several activities from soccer to pajama day. Since most of the kids are boys, the majority of activities will be heavy on the physical, which the teen boys can join in with as well. With that decided, we culled together a list of supplies, including healthy snacks and juice so the kids aren’t running around like meth heads after espresso shots. We have a week planned. Any longer and I’ll probably want to drown them all.
Maybe sooner. I’m woken at the butt crack of dawn by a knock on my door. Claire, bubbly even at seven in the fucking morning, swans in with a cup of coffee for me. My body still isn’t at its prime, but I pull myself out of bed with minimal groaning. Me and my bright ideas. I could have just stayed in bed and had werewolf minions bring me food, but I had to open my big mouth. Prove myself to perfect strangers. I haven’t been up at seven on purpose since high school. After chugging the coffee with an Advil chaser, I step into the shower, braid my wet hair, put on my Daisy Duke shorts and purple t-shirt, cover the bruises, and conjure up a smile. If I don’t lose or maim one of the children, I will consider this a successful day.
Starts out well. There’s no set time to begin so parents drag the kids in a steady stream into the living room where we’re setting up. The electronic babysitter does the heavy lifting as the kids wake up. After breakfast, and my third cup of coffee, the day begins in earnest. We move the horde outside for a game of Capture the Flag. My jock assistants, Troy and Mac, jump into this activity with both feet. The parents even stand on the sidelines cheering the kids on, my father included, who gives me a reverent nod. Not gonna lie, that feels pretty damn good.
We break for lunch, then nap time for the youngsters in the parlor, and a movie in the living room for the three older kids and teens. Even Devin stops World of Warcraft to enjoy Harry Potter and sneaking glances at Claire. I take this brief respite to change into my bikini and re-dress for the next activity. Poor Jason’s about to be invaded. I saw him in passing this morning as he and Omar walked to their car. Omar delivered several bags of the items requested up here during lunch, but Jason was AWOL. If Blondie won’t come to the party, I’ll bring it to him.
After organizing my new supplies and checking on the kids, I make my way to the dining room for a water bottle. Lunch has been cleared but Adam is slowly picking at a bowl of the pretzels, almost examining them like a quality control officer. That is when his eyes aren’t glued to the woman chatting with Frank outside on the patio. I haven’t seen her before. Curly, mousy brown hair, a few inches shorter than me and a few years younger, about forty pounds overweight, dressed in black jeans and floral t-shirt. Not a head turner, but judging from Adam’s laser-like focus on her, he’d disagree. He’s so busy staring, he doesn’t register my existence until I whisper, “Stalking’s illegal, you know.”
“What? I’m not … shut up.”
“Who is she? Ex-girlfriend?”
“No. She’s just, she’s the High Priestess of the Goodnight Coven.”
“I have no idea what that means. Is it impressive?”
“It’s the biggest witch’s coven in America, so yeah,” Adam says, sounding none too thrilled by this. “They have a sort of alliance with the pack. She’s here to put up some protection—oh, shit!” He turns his back to the patio doors. O-kay. Frank opens the door for the witch, who holds a wooden box, and they both step in as Adam starts shoveling pretzels in his mouth.
“Hello, Vivi,” Frank says.
“Frank.”
“Um, Mona McGregor, this is my … this is Vivian.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mona says with a smile. She’s downright pretty when she smiles.
“She’s here to—”
“Magical security system,” I cut in. I place my hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Adam here was filling me in. Thank you for coming. Feel safer already, don’t we, Adam?”
He glances at me, eyes widening at me. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Well, I’m sure the pack will return the favor someday,” Mona says.
“Let’s hope the need never arises,” says Frank, “at least for your sake.” He smiles at Mona, then turns back to us. “Adam, Mona needs a ladder, hammer, and nails to hang the charms and amulets. Go get them, please,” he says with that same fake smirk he gave me last night. An order masquerading as concern. It rankles me as much now as then.
“I can get them,” I chime in.
“No, it—it’s fine,” Adam says with an undercurrent of fear. “I’ll go, sir. Excuse me.” With his head hung, he scurries into the kitchen.
Frank pretends not to notice. “Vivi, are the children still asleep in the parlor?”
“They are.”
“Then can you please show Mona to the living room? She can begin there.”
“You’re the boss, sir. And they are watching Harry Potter. Rather fitting. This way, Miss McGregor.” I wait for her to reach me before I begin our trek. “It is Miss, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” she chuckles. Score one for Adam. “Terminally.”
“So, you’re a witch? You’re my first.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d seen you around here before,” Mona says.
“Long-lost daughter, werewolves trying to kill me, kidnapping, shoot outs, kind of a boring story.”
“Yeah, sounds like it,” she chuckles. We stroll into the living room where the kids are still immersed with Mr. Potter’s adventures. Mona smirks as Harry waves his wand around. “God bless J. K. Rowling. She’ll keep me in business for years to come.”
“Is she a real witch too?” I ask.
“If she isn’t, she must know one. No Hogwarts though.”
“Damn. I was hoping you’d write me a letter of recommendation.”
Mona laughs again. Good sense of humor. Beginning to see why Adam’s smitten. His paramour sets down her box on the end table to unlatch it. Inside are vials filled with multi-colored liquids, baggies of herbs, crystals, strange amulets, candles, even a knife with a pentagram on the handle. She notices me examining the contents. “You should see my shop.”
“I lived in New Orleans. One of my roommates worked in a voodoo emporium for a few months. Most customers were tourists looking for love potions. Never realized it could all be real.”
“We work hard at that. I have no desire to be burnt at the stake, thank you very much.”
Hearing heavy footsteps, we spin around as Adam walks in with a ladder and the other tools, his eyes never leaving the blue carpet. Didn’t take him for shy. “Um, here,” he mutters, placing the hammer and nails beside her box.
“Thanks,” Mona says.
“Welcome,” he mutters.
This will not do. “So, Mona, Adam here is gonna take over hosting duties for me. I have child wrangling to do.”
“Okay,” Mona says.
“No, I have—” Adam starts.
“Anything you need, great or small, he’ll get you,” I cut in. “Refreshments, nails,” an orgasm, “what have you.” I meet his wide blue eyes. “Isn’t that right, Adam? Don’t be rude to our honored guest.”
His eyes grow to insect proportions, but a fake smile forms on his face. He is not pleased at being trapped. He’ll thank me at his wedding. His gaze moves over to Mona, and the
smile becomes genuine. “Of course.”
“Uh, thanks,” Mona says skeptically.
“Perfect then. It was lovely meeting you, Mona. I leave you in very very wonderful hands. Excuse me.” I squeeze Adam’s shoulder as I strut out. I love playing cupid. Got two marriages under my belt. One of those ended in divorce, but still. It’s the thought that counts. Nothing wrong with being extra-super nice to my prey’s best friend.
Claire follows me into the hallway. “We should wake the kids soon,” she says. “They still need to change into their swimsuits.”
“Okay. You and Dev oversee that, and have Mac and Troy inform the parents in case they want to join us at the shore.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“For the millionth time, call me Viv.”
“Yes, ma—Viv.” She turns back into the living room to rouse the teens. I glance in and smile. Adam holds the ladder for Mona as she climbs up with a hammer, nails, and amulet. She doesn’t notice the tiny smile and tranquility on Adam’s face, but I do. The face of a man in love, or sure as hell getting there. Only one ma has gazed at me like that, as if just being close to me was akin to touching the clouds, peaceful and perfect. Better than any drug times ten.
I leave the lovebirds, and start down the hall toward the kitchen to grab more supplies as my minions and charges move out of the living room to complete their tasks. Hope Adam takes full advantage of alone time with witchy poo. Since we’re between meals, it’s not as crazy in the kitchen. Only Maureen and Frank remain, both sitting at the small table with coffee mugs and lists, which they seem to be reviewing. Feeding more than forty people every day cannot be an easy task.
“Hello, dear,” Maureen says. Frank pivots around to see who is here, then swivels back with nary an emotion.
“Hi. We’re taking the kids for a swim. I want to fill a cooler with granola bars and juice to take with us. We have a cooler, right?”
“Of course,” Maureen says, rising from her chair to help.
“Some of the children don’t know how to swim,” Frank says, back still to me.
“I know. That’s why I asked for water wings, and those kids will be paired with an adult at all times. A lot of the parents are coming anyway.”
“Sounds like you have things well in hand,” Maureen says, opening a cabinet.
“Hope so.”
Frank rises and turns with what I think is a fake smile on his face. “Yes, thank you for all your help today.”
“Just pulling my weight like everyone else. I am pack, right?” I ask with a matching smile.
“Yes,” Frank says, not losing his façade. “Just make sure Adam goes with you. He’s excellent with children.”
“Oh, I got it covered. He’s busy right now anyway. He’s helping that witch—”
“He’s what?” Maureen asks, downright horrified by this news.
Even Frank’s fake mirth vanishes in an instant, replaced with irritation. “Damn it.” Frank stalks past me without another word, jaw set so tight he’s about to break a tooth. O—kay, what the hell just happened?
Fearing for my new buddy, I move to follow Frank out. “Frank, what … he’s not …”
Maureen grabs my arm to stop me. “You best not, dear.”
“But he—”
“Leave it be. Help me here. Get the juice boxes from the fridge. Please.”
I want to protest, but Maureen is staring me down. “Fine.” Need to pick my battles. Body slamming Jason’s surrogate mother won’t endear me to him, that’s for sure.
Just as I’m closing the full cooler, Adam trudges in, head bowed and shoulders slumped like a moping Charlie Brown. I can practically hear that piano dirge that trails Charlie when he’s depressed. Jesus, what the hell did Frank do to him? And why do I get the feeling it’s all my fault? Hell, lately what isn’t?
“You alright, son?” Maureen asks.
“Fine,” he replies with a half smile. “I’ll just, uh, go get the water toys and chairs from downstairs. Excuse me.” He doesn’t even glance at me as he passes. Yep, definitely my fault.
“Excuse me,” I say to Maureen before rushing out of the kitchen in search of Frank. When I step into the busy hall where the excited kids and their parents scurry up and down, I notice Mona climbing up the ladder by the patio doors while Sam holds it steady. I roll my eyes and continue to my destination. Frank’s office. The doors are closed but I’m too pissed to be polite. I barge in, throwing the right one to the side. The bastard himself lays on a cot in the far corner pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. He’s in pain. Good. His weary eyes open. “Vivi, please. Now is—”
I slide the door closed. “What the hell did you say to Adam?”
With a deep sigh, my father slowly rises. “That isn’t your concern. He was disobeying a direct order, that’s all you need to know.”
“He dis—what? He was just holding a damn ladder, Frank.”
“He isn’t supposed to be alone with her. He knew better, and he did it anyway. I just reminded him of that fact. It was for his own good.”
“Oh, that’s just insane. He likes her. He was helping her.”
Frank stands. “He disobeyed his Alpha. He’s under strict orders to avoid her.”
“Then be mad at me. I boxed him in. I gave him no choice, okay? I saw he liked her, I set it up so they’d have some alone time. I don’t see the big damn deal.”
Frank’s nostrils flare as he huffs. “You’re right, you don’t see what the big deal is because you just run blindly into situations you don’t have all the facts about and meddle for your own purposes.”
“He likes her!”
“He cannot be with her!” Frank fires back with the same intensity.
“This isn’t the Marine Corps, and you’re not a General, Frank! You can’t control everything and everyone. You don’t get to decide who falls in love with whom!”
“And you don’t get to come into my pack and toy with my wolves’ lives, especially when you don’t take time to get the full picture,” he practically roars.
I’m momentarily taken aback by his ferocity, even leaning back on instinct. But only for a moment. I eat bullies for breakfast, and I’m fucking famished. I match his grimace. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about Adam anymore?” He doesn’t respond. I take a step toward him. “Listen to me, asshole. You know nothing about me, and you sure as hell have no right to judge me or my motives. Not you, of all people. You lost that privilege twenty-eight years ago and you aren’t going to earn it back now. So go fuck yourself, Dad.”
I twirl on my heels and stalk out. The hall is still full of happy families, and I stomp past them all to the front door. Outside. The moment I slam the door shut, I take a deep breath and let it out. Then another. I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me. I really shouldn’t. He hasn’t earned that fucking right. Then why the hell do I feel like bursting into tears because deep down he thinks I’m a cold-hearted bitch?
Probably because I believe the same damn thing. Just gonna have to keep trying to prove us both wrong.
_____
Even with almost half the pack along for the trip, wrangling the kids proves a feat. It’s like herding wolverine/roadrunner hybrids. They’ve either been sneaking sugar or crack, perhaps both behind my back, I don’t know. The hellions sprint down the gravel driveway squealing and laughing in excitement. We haven’t even gotten there yet and the activity’s already a hit.
Adam takes point, so the majority of wrangling falls to him. We haven’t said a word to one another since the Mona incident as the few times I approached him, he rushed off to grab a wayward child. I’ll corner him yet.
By the time we reach the beach, we’re already drenched in sweat. So much for looking like a fresh yet sexy daisy for Jason. The front of the pack dashes straight into the water, giggling and squealing inten
sifying so they can be heard all the way to Europe. As I watch them splash around while setting up the snacks and chairs, a smile creeps across my face. The barbarians may be at the gate but they can’t touch us or our fun here. At least I’ve contributed that. I wait until a swim trunk-clad Adam returns from Jason’s bungalow with more aquatic equipment before I venture to impose on Blondie’s hospitality. Frank’s words about meddling sing through my brain, but I flip the volume down as low as it’ll go. There isn’t an ounce of harm in getting Jason to join the festivities. At least I hope not.
I heard the band saw running when we walked past the bungalow on our way here, so I know he’s in there. I let myself in through the patio door, making a beeline to the workshop. This time I knock before stepping in. Jason glances up from the workbench where he’s sanding out the edges of the guitar he’s been assembling. I wasn’t who he was expecting judging from the way his mouth opens and closes but no words come out. God, I love how awkward he always is when he lays eyes on me. The word “adorable” doesn’t begin to cover it. I give him a sweet smile as I step in.
“Hi. I’ve come to recruit you.”
“What?”
“We’ve invaded your beach. I’m claiming you as a POW and putting you to work, handsome. I’ve got almost a dozen Energizer Bunnies splashing around down there, including our niece and nephew, and not enough adults,” I lie.
“I don’t—”
“Resistance is futile, Blondie. Don’t make me pull out the big guns.”
“Big guns?”
“I have two incredibly cute twins on stand-by ready to whine, scream, and cry until their beloved Uncle Jason comes outside to play with them on this beautiful summer day.” Theatrically, I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll do it. You know I fight dirty.” The sides of his mouth momentarily twitch up in a smile. Almost there. I saunter over to him, grin intact. “Seriously, though. It’s a gorgeous day, the twins really do want to see you, and I could use another set of eyes. I don’t really trust three teenage boys to pay attention to anything but a bikini-clad Claire. Please, Blondie?”
Werewolf Sings the Blues Page 21