“No. It’s not easy and there aren’t many who can do it,” she admitted.
“Heather, this is bad. Lying is bad enough. Planting a revision of recent history in the minds of our best friends is freaking terrible,” I snapped, yanking the chicken salad sandwiches and the mini quiches I’d made for the luncheon out of the fridge and slamming them down onto the table. “You have to undo it. If I get busted, that’s on me.”
She shook her head and looked like she wanted to cry. “God, caring about people can be a shitty thing,” she muttered.
“Nope. Screwing with people’s minds can be a shitty thing.”
“That too,” she agreed. “I did it for you. I didn’t think it through—at all. There’s so much at stake right now, I knee-jerked a plan without talking it over with anyone.”
“My manners dictate that I say thank you, but I really want to head-butt you,” I said, reining in my anger. “Can you undo it?”
“It might be worse if I did,” she replied, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “It’s complicated magic. I would happily accept a head-butt even though it would probably break every bone in my body.”
I groaned and leveled one of my dearest friends with a stare that she met head-on. “As appealing as that sounds, it doesn’t appeal at all. Violence isn’t my thing even though you deserve it.”
“I do deserve it.”
“Well, at least we agree on something,” I muttered with a strained laugh.
“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Heather said.
“Promise me you won’t do it again, and never to me,” I insisted.
“I promise.”
Shaking my head and wanting to head-butt myself for the direction of my thoughts, I went for it. “Is there a chance Gideon could have planted things in my mind?”
Heather was quiet for a long moment then shook her head. “No. Thoughts can only be planted in the minds of full humans.”
“I’m a full human,” I reminded her.
“No. You’re not,” she corrected me. “Michael the Archangel is your father. You have never been a full human since the day you were conceived.”
“Heather,” I warned with an eye roll of displeasure.
“My bad. John Travolta,” she amended with a grin.
“Thank you,” I replied primly, which made her grin grow wider. “I’m not fond of what you did at all. However, if I’m being honest—which is an oxymoron considering the conversation—I will admit that I’m relieved that I don’t have to lie like a rug.”
“So, I’m forgiven?” Heather asked sheepishly.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I eyed her then nodded. “Yes. You’re forgiven, but I expect you to keep your promise that you won’t do it again.”
“Deal.”
My knowledge of the strange and alarming kept growing. I wasn’t sure how much more my brain could hold.
“Put these in your eyes,” Heather said, handing me a small packet.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Contact lenses.”
“I don’t need contacts,” I said, handing the packet back to her. “My vision is perfect.”
“Not to see,” Heather said, pushing them back across the table. “To hide the new color of your eyes. You could light up a room with those peepers.”
“So, I will be lying,” I said, opening the packet and popping them into my eyes.
“I call it living with a few omissions,” Heather said with a small smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
I was getting used to a lot.
And only some of it was good.
Chapter Eight
“What has two butts and kills people?” Jennifer asked as she opened a bottle of wine and proceeded to pour a glass for everyone.
After the initial shock of realizing Tim and Candy had joined the lunch bunch, my friends accepted the new additions and included them with kindness. Jennifer, June, Heather and Missy were some of the best women I knew.
I was doing my damnedest to ignore the ghosts who were in attendance. Thankfully, it was just Steve, Gram and Birdie. Steve hadn’t moved into the light yet even though it was possible now. I was secretly thrilled he was still here. Having no clue how long he would stay, I treasured every moment and was delighted to have him at the gathering. Gram wouldn’t have missed it.
And Birdie? I had no clue why she’d joined the luncheon. She’d be difficult to ignore if she called me a hooker repeatedly and flipped me off for the next few hours. Thankfully, I noticed Gram having a few words with her, and she’d only given Gram the middle finger twice. That was excellent behavior for Birdie. I hoped she’d keep it up. The rest of my deceased squatters were happily watching a Survivor marathon in my bedroom.
“Come on, people,” Jennifer said, handing Candy a glass. “Somebody needs to guess or I’m gonna be crowned the Queen of the World with a face like a baby’s ass.”
Jennifer’s double dose of Botox was holding up frighteningly and exceedingly well. Not a single muscle moved on her face. She was completely Botoxicated and couldn’t be happier about it.
“That’s a pretty high and mighty title for someone touting info about a person with two asses,” Missy pointed out with a grin.
“I have no issue with the title, I just want to know if two asses mean someone has two buttholes,” Candy Vargo chimed in.
Missy let out a tiny squeak and bit down on her lip so hard, I thought she might draw blood. She was desperate to muffle her laugh. Missy’s Southern manners were ingrained like mine. She’d rather die before making someone feel bad.
“That’s an excellent question, Candy Vargo,” Jennifer said, thoughtfully mulling over the logistics. “I’m gonna go with a yes on the anatomical query. Two asses would have to mean two poop holes. Drink up! I brought a whole case.”
Candy covertly glanced over at Gram, who nodded her head that Candy should take a drink. I’d gone from being terrified of Candy Vargo to feeling sorry for her. However, I was sure Gram was correct about the Keeper of Fate secretly enjoying someone giving a rat’s butt about her. Her need for Gram’s approval was heartbreakingly sweet.
I just hoped Candy didn’t try to talk to Gram while my human friends were present. I’d had a come to Jesus with both Candy and Tim before the gals had arrived. Whether it worked or not remained to be seen. Lunch had gone relatively well thus far. Even Candy’s manners weren’t too bad—nary a toothpick in sight.
“I can’t think of anything that has two rear ends.” June came out of the kitchen with a platter of her homemade peanut butter cookies piled high. “Not sure that cookies go with wine at two in the afternoon,” she said with a giggle, rolling her eyes at Jennifer. “But I’ve never been able to attend a gathering empty-handed.”
“And thank goodness for that,” I said, pilfering a few cookies off the plate as June passed by. “I’d sell my soul for your cookies.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” Tim said, staring at the glass of wine Jennifer had placed in front of him.
The sour expression on his face was proof that wine wasn’t his thing. However, he sipped it politely and only gagged a little. He was doing his damnedest to fit in. It was adorable in a bizarre way.
“You’ll understand when you taste June’s cookies,” Heather assured Tim.
“A toast to the chef,” Missy said, holding her glass high. “I dream about that chicken salad. It was delicious as always. To Daisy.”
“To Daisy,” everyone said, following suit.
“Dudes,” I said with a laugh. “It’s as easy as sin, but thank you.”
“It’s my recipe,” Gram reminded me.
Without even a glance her way, I repeated her. “It’s Gram’s recipe.”
“To Gram,” Jennifer said as her eyes welled up with tears. “I miss her something awful. Loved her like she was mine.”
Gram zipped over to Jennifer and wrapped her in a ghostly embrace. Jennifer had no clue. Neither did June nor Missy, but the rest of us did.<
br />
Candy was under Gram’s spell as well. She stood up, made her way across the room to Jennifer and awkwardly patted her on the head. Gram gave her a nod of approval and Candy blushed.
“Thank you, Candy Vargo,” Jennifer said, sniffling. “Did you know Gram well?”
“Umm… I… ahh…” Candy was at a total loss. In her frantic search for how to answer, she went for a toothpick until Gram threatened her life and she immediately put it away.
Thankfully, June, Missy and Jennifer were oblivious to the fact the Gram had vowed to tear Candy an ass that would preclude her from sitting for a few centuries.
That would have been very difficult to explain.
Leave it to my vibrator-rehoming buddy Tim to save the day… or not.
Tim cleared his throat and let it rip. “I do believe Candy has learned more about Gram since her sad, tragic and untimely demise. Candy Vargo of the Piggly Wiggly wishes desperately that she had known Daisy’s loving caregiver better, and awaits the day with bated breath until she meets the illustrious, wonderful and viciously threatening Gram in the afterlife. Candy Vargo is counting her toothpicks until the glorious time arrives, which almost came to fruition yesterday when she narrowly missed getting mowed down by a crazy woman—who shall remain nameless—driving a car. Not that I saw it. I just heard about it.”
Tim’s rather unconventional response caused about a minute and forty-seven seconds of confused discomfort among the guests. But we were Southern. Colorful and inappropriate behavior was in our DNA. A party wasn’t a success unless someone stuck their foot in their mouth and pulled it out of their ass. It was usually Jennifer for the win, but Tim was the champion this afternoon. Bizarre conduct was expected and to a certain degree welcomed. It was also politely ignored.
“Well, then,” said June, the adorable peacemaker of our group, nodding at Tim politely. “Would anyone like a cookie?”
The chorus of yesses let us gracefully move past Tim’s outlandish defense of Candy. My new buddy was clearly not quite ready for group interaction, but being with my friends was a safe place for him to start.
“Back to the killer with two butts,” Jennifer said. “Who has a guess?”
Candy gave it a shot. “Siamese twins with a vendetta against the diabolical shit-ass doctor who tried to separate them with a hacksaw?”
Karma wasn’t quite ready for group interaction either.
“Nope,” Jennifer said. “But that was a damn good guess and seriously gross. I like the way you think, Candy Vargo.”
“I have a conjecture,” Tim said, raising his hand.
“Is that contagious?” Jennifer teased with a laugh, grabbing a few cookies.
Tim, being a fairly literal guy, got perplexed. “No.”
“She was joking,” I cut in quickly.
Tim forced a polite laugh and slapped his leg so hard it was going to leave a bruise. His socialization was going terribly well…
“I shall rephrase,” Tim announced, glancing over at me for approval.
I nodded and smiled.
“I have a guess,” he said shakily.
I held my breath and waited to be horrified. Tim had already proven that he was capable of saying anything.
“Go for it,” Jennifer said, slugging back her entire glass of wine then going for more.
“Did she drive?” I asked June quietly as she sat down next to me.
“Oh, heavens no,” June said with a giggle. “I did. I’ll get her home safely.”
“A killer with two butts is an assassin,” Tim revealed, to a delighted whoop from Jennifer.
“Yes! Get it everyone? Ass-ass-in… assassin! Two asses!” she shouted, impressed with Tim’s useless knowledge. “Not to worry. I have more.”
“Of course, you do,” Heather said.
Heather and Missy sat on the couch together, bodies close. It made me happy to think they were getting back together. From what I’d surmised, it was Missy’s hellfire and brimstone religious upbringing that had put a kink in their relationship last year. I didn’t know what had changed, but I knew in my heart they were happier together than apart.
“Look at that,” Steve whispered in my ear. “What the heck is Birdie doing?”
It was a good question. What the heck was Birdie doing?
Up till a few minutes ago, Birdie had been behaving herself beautifully which was shocking. She had perched on the couch next to Missy and watched the action with glee. She’d only flipped me off a few times and hadn’t called me a hooker once. However, now she seemed obsessed with Missy. She’d wedged herself between Heather and my childhood BFF and was stroking her hair and peppering her face with ghostly kisses.
“Do you think Birdie was a lesbian hooker?” Steve asked.
Swallowing back my laugh was hard but doable. Since answering Steve was a no-no, I simply shrugged my shoulders and watched the show unfold. Birdie’s behavior wasn’t of a sexual nature. It was loving.
Was there a chance Birdie had known Missy in life? Was Birdie a relative of my friend? I didn’t think so. I’d known Missy since we were small, but it was a possibility if Birdie’s actions were anything to go by.
“How about we throw some facts out and whoever has the best or grossest info wins,” Jennifer suggested.
“You’ve already won,” June told Jennifer. “You’re a font of unappetizing information, my dear.”
Jennifer stood up and took a bow. “Thank you, June.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” Heather said, grinning. “It was a polite way of saying you only have one oar in the water.”
“I meant it in a loving way,” June said with a giggle. “Jennifer lights up my life and fills my head with nonsense. That’s what friends are for.”
“Damn straight,” Jennifer announced as she popped open another bottle of wine. “Who wants to take me on?”
“I’m out,” I said. “There’s no way I can beat you.”
“Count me out too,” Missy said, unaware that she was being adored by a dead woman.
Heather, who was not unaware of Birdie’s obsession with Missy, glanced over at me to check if I’d observed what was going on. I nodded covertly and shrugged. The Ouija board was definitely going to be put to use this evening. There was far more to Birdie than just an active middle finger and a foul mouth.
“I’ll just listen,” June said, pushing her wine away and sipping on lemonade instead. “I might learn something new that will make Charlie laugh.”
“Is he back from his business trip yet?” Missy inquired.
“Tonight,” June told her. “It’s been two long weeks without my guy. I miss him.”
“Tonight?” I asked, surprised. It was news to me. Gideon hadn’t said when they would return, just that they would. Maybe Charlie was coming back first.
“Yes,” June said with a giggle and a blush. “I’m going to go home and get gussied up in a bit.”
June’s blush made me grin. She was fifty-seven and blissfully married to a man who she had no clue was older than time. They were a fine example of marriage goals. June was the only one of us who had been successful in the relationship department. However, the rest of us were working on it. Jennifer, sixty-five and five times divorced, had a good thing going with Sherriff Dip Doody. She refused to marry him since she was wildly in love with the unfortunately named lawman. Heather and Missy were headed toward something, and I was head over heels for the Grim Reaper.
Strange, but somehow perfect.
“Alrighty then, since June needs to get ready to bang her hubby, let’s get this game going. Who’s gonna challenge me?” Jennifer asked.
“Pretty sure you already won the open-mouth-insert-foot title with that last comment,” I said with an eye roll.
June simply laughed and shook her head.
“I will challenge you,” Tim said.
Oh shit.
“Excellent,” Jennifer shouted, causing everyone to wince.
I wasn’t sure if everyone’s reaction was
because of the volume of her voice or the fear of what was about to go down.
“Let’s get this over with,” Heather said, knowing she’d live to regret her words. “On your marks. Get set. Go.”
Rubbing her little hands together with delight, Jennifer teasingly narrowed her eyes at Tim. He was slowly getting the hang of being with others and grinned right back at Jennifer.
“Wombats poop cubes,” Jennifer announced.
“Hells bells, do they have square buttholes?” Gram asked.
I glanced over at Gram and gave her a look. It simply wouldn’t do for someone to answer her accidentally.
Tim nodded his appreciation of Jennifer’s useless info and cleared his throat. “I challenge you with the fact that the ancient Romans used the crushed brains of mice as toothpaste.”
“Yep,” Candy Vargo confirmed. “Tasted like ass.”
“I’m sorry. What?” Missy asked, wrinkling her nose. “You’ve done that?”
Candy looked like she was going to poop a brick… similar to a wombat. The Keeper of Fate had been alive during that time period and clearly had brushed her teeth with rodent cranium matter. However, she quickly recovered.
“Of course not,” Candy said with a weak chuckle. “I meant that it must have tasted like ass.”
“While that was impressive,” Jennifer told Tim with a naughty grin, “I offer you that sixty-three planet Earths can fit inside Uranus.”
“Not my anus,” Heather muttered as Missy punched her in the arm.
“Outstanding statistic,” Tim congratulated Jennifer. “I can beat that. If you consume fast food regularly, you eat about twelve pubic hairs a year.”
“Okay. That completely ruined my life,” I gagged out. “No more fast food for me.”
“Or me,” June added with a shudder.
Jennifer, never one to give up, continued. “Lorne Green had one of his nipples bitten off by an alligator when he was the TV host of that nature show.”
“What the ever-loving hell?” Heather yelled. “No way.”
“Yes way! Read it on the internet so it’s true!” Jennifer shot back, massively proud of her nightmare-worthy trivia.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 7