A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three

by Peterman , Robyn

  “Tada!” Tim said as everyone stared in confusion at the platter.

  “What in tarnation is that?” Gram asked, hovering over the table to get a better look.

  “I’m glad she asked before I did,” Candy mumbled.

  “Is it s’mores?” Heather asked politely.

  “No. I don’t think so,” Gideon said, squinting at it. “There’s bread on it and something I believe was pinkish at one point.”

  “My bad,” Heather said quickly. “I thought the burnt part might be marshmallows. I just love burnt marshmallows,” she added, realizing she’d just insulted the hell out of Tim.

  Thankfully, Tim’s lack of social skills made it very difficult to insult him.

  “It’s Pigs in a Blanket,” he informed the group. “I might have overcooked them a bit, but I’m sure they’re still delicious. My cat loved it, and she’s quite picky.”

  “They look wonderful,” I lied.

  Pulling out his trivia notes, Tim gave us a quick lesson on charred, bread-wrapped hotdogs.

  “Pigs in a Blanket are also fondly known as Devils on Horseback, Kilted Sausages and Weiner Winks.”

  “I call ’em cocktail weenies slapped in a biscuit,” Candy offered as she grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth. “A little crunchy, but edible.”

  Tim was thrilled with Candy’s assessment and felt the need to further enlighten us. “Very easy to make,” he went on. “It’s simply a small frankfurter wrapped in croissant dough. The wieners are typically small in size, but a hotdog can be used in a pinch. Some people use Vienna Sausages, but my cat hates those and I don’t keep them in the house.”

  “Okay then,” Charlie said with a polite smile and a nod to Tim. “I’ll just take a bit of Daisy’s blood and then we can move on to the agenda.”

  “Works for me,” I said, sticking out my arm and turning my head away. Needles were not my thing.

  Unfortunately, my father was directly in my sightline. He wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the photo on the side table. It was a picture of Gram, my mother and me. He slowly raised his hand and touched it so reverently, I felt like I was seeing something I shouldn’t.

  Gideon saw it was well and caught my eye.

  Raising a brow, he silently asked me if I was okay. I smiled and nodded. I didn’t think he could read my mind, but he was so in tune with my feelings it was eerie… and hot… which led to inappropriate thoughts. Of all the things I shouldn’t be thinking of, my mind went to the daisy-filled magical bedroom. Again, I was fairly sure the Grim Reaper might be able to read my mind. He grinned at me in a way that made my breath catch in my throat.

  “Almost done,” Charlie said, capping a tube full of my blood and hooking up another. “You have wonderful veins.”

  “Thank you, Charlie.” A compliment was still a compliment even if it had to do with announcing to a room that I had big veins.

  “My pleasure, Daisy,” Charlie said, capping off the last bottle, removing the needle and putting a Band-Aid on my arm.

  Charlie was sincere and sweet. It was difficult to remember he was the Enforcer and that when he was pissed his eyes turned silver and his fingers sparked.

  My father checked his watch and cleared his throat. “Is there a reason we’re gathered? I have business to attend to.”

  “You’re lackin’ some manners, too,” Gram said, giving him a nasty look. “However, I don’t like you enough to crawl up your ass. You don’t deserve the time of day from me.”

  John Travolta had the decency to look embarrassed. “You are correct. I’m sorry.”

  “Lots of mea culpas going around this afternoon,” Heather said, pouring lemonade into glasses. “Why don’t we just try to tolerate each other for a bit?”

  “Excellent plan,” Tim agreed. “I have more trivia if anyone is interested.”

  “Hold that thought,” I said, rolling down my sleeve and glancing around the room. “Gram, where is Steve?”

  “He’s in the cellar with Birdie,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s not doin’ so good.”

  “You have a cellar?” Heather asked, handing me a drink.

  “Crawlspace,” I told her, then realized this was a good out. I was worried about Birdie and she was next on my list, but I didn’t want Gram here for the meeting. “Gram, could you go to the cellar and help Steve cheer Birdie up?”

  “It’s a crawlspace, Daisy girl,” she corrected me.

  “Umm… right,” I said, shaking my head. “Could you go to the crawlspace and give her some Gram love?”

  “You bet your bippy I can! Dead folks,” she called out. “Let’s go take care of our gal. Birdie is not right in the head and thinks it’s funny when body parts fall off. I figure we can all rip our arms off and put on a little show to turn her frown upside down.”

  The squatters squealed and zipped around the living room with excitement at the thought of dismembering themselves and then playing Whac-A-Mole with their appendages.

  I really needed to buy some stock in superglue.

  “I’d like to go to the crawlspace,” Candy Vargo said. “That sounds like an excellent time.”

  “Later,” I told her. “You can go after the meeting.”

  Candy rolled her eyes and piled a plate high with Tim’s Wiener Winks.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Heather said, sitting down on the couch.

  The clock was ticking and I needed answers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I circled the room and made sure everyone had something to eat. It was ingrained in my abnormal DNA that I feed people. It also gave me something to do since my entire body tingled with nerves.

  “I’d like to get to know everyone better,” I said, clasping my hands together and pasting a smile on my lips.

  “That’s why we were called here on such short notice?” John Travolta asked, surprised.

  The smile left my lips. My father made it hard to be civil.

  “Yes,” I said flatly. “You have a problem with that?”

  “None at all,” he replied.

  “Call me crazy,” Tim said.

  “Crazy,” Candy supplied quickly.

  Tim shot her a look and Candy rolled her eyes.

  “Gram would make me say I’m sorry for that,” she grumbled.

  “I accept,” Tim replied, ignoring the fact Candy hadn’t apologized. “As I was saying, call me crazy, but you already know us, Daisy.”

  “Wrong,” I corrected him. “I know you as Tim my mailman and friend who rehomes sex toys, not Tim the Immortal Courier between the darkness and the light. I know Candy as the cashier with bad manners and an endless supply of toothpicks from the Piggly Wiggly—not as Karma. I know Charlie as June’s beloved husband who adores her as much as she adores him, not as the Enforcer.”

  “And you know John Travolta, aka Clarence Smith, aka Darth Vader, as your former boss, not Michael the Archangel,” Tim added.

  “Don’t forget he’s also your dad,” Candy reminded me, as if I needed reminding.

  “I prefer sperm donor, and I couldn’t forget if I tried,” I said flatly.

  John Travolta didn’t blink an eye. His poker face was exceptional.

  “Alrighty then,” Heather said, steering the conversation back on track. “Daisy knows me as one of her dearest friends, not the Arbitrator between Heaven and Hell.”

  “That begs the question as to how well the Death Counselor knows the Grim Reaper,” Candy Vargo said, waggling her brows. “Have you seen his nut sack yet?”

  Gideon laughed. “That is none of your business, Karma.”

  “While this is true,” Candy said, grinning, “I do have to admit I’m curious how many snapper slappers you have.”

  “Two,” I volunteered, then closed my eyes in mortification. Would I never learn? How many times was I going to discuss Gideon’s junk in front of the same people? “Sorry,” I choked out, trying not to laugh.

  “Not to worry,” Gideon said with a wink. “While I find your
comfort level with talking about my balls in public slightly alarming, I also find it alluring.”

  “This is degenerating into a conversation I’m not comfortable with,” Tim said with a shudder. “With Daisy’s permission, I’d like to offer up some trivia to get things back on track.”

  “Umm, no,” I told him. “We’ll save that for the end. Cool?”

  “Certainly.” Tim nodded and put his trivia list back into his pocket.

  “I’ll start with Karma,” I said, feeling nervous and somewhat ridiculous. I was a forty-year-old person attempting to chat with people who had seen centuries—tons of centuries. In all reality, I was a child compared to them. Yet, at the same time, it wasn’t all that strange.

  Which meant I might be insane.

  “I don’t like going first,” Candy complained. “I want to go third and get a feel for what’s going on so I can make a decision if I’m going to lie.”

  At least she was honest…

  “It’s not a test,” I said with an eye roll. “How long have you lived in this town?”

  Karma shrugged her shoulders. “Time means little to me,” she said. “Tim, how long have I been here?”

  Tim’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Sixteen years,” he said. “You moved here in December sixteen years ago and have been a rude thorn in everyone’s side ever since.”

  “Thank you,” Candy said. “Hate to think I was slacking.”

  “Oh, you’re not,” Tim told her.

  “Why?” I asked. “I mean, I know about the strong portal between Heaven and Hell, but is that why you came here?”

  “Hell no,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t use the portal unless I have to. The earthly plane is my territory. I came because I had a few warrants out for my arrest and needed a little legal assistance.”

  “A few? More like twenty-seven in twelve countries,” Heather mumbled.

  “Zip it,” Candy snapped. “I paid you, didn’t I?”

  “That you did,” Heather replied dryly.

  “Didn’t expect that,” I said, shaking my head. “Had you visited before?”

  “Never,” Candy said, waving her hand dismissively. “People are too damned polite in this part of the world. Only came here because I knew I could use the portals if I couldn’t get the Feds off my ass.”

  I couldn’t help myself. The answer wasn’t pertinent to anything, but now I was dying to know. “Do I want to ask why they were after you?”

  “You really don’t,” Heather said. “Really.”

  “Roger that,” I said. “So, Candy, just for clarification, you’ve never set foot in Georgia before sixteen years ago?”

  “Correct,” Candy replied. “Do I get a prize?”

  “No. You don’t,” I said, realizing this was going to take too long. “I’m going to cut to the chase.”

  “Thank God,” Candy said. “If I have to listen to Tim tell his backstory, I’ll have to eat my own arm.”

  “First of all, I’m telling Gram you said that,” Tim announced. “Secondly, it would grow back. You’re Immortal. And third, eating your own body parts is disgusting and it tastes awful.”

  “And you know this how?” Charlie inquired, glancing over at Tim in horror.

  “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know,” Tim said primly. “It’s not a pretty story.”

  The chat had taken a left turn and was careening in a direction that was going to make me hurl.

  “As I said,” I announced loudly before anyone could ask Tim to expound on self-cannibalism. “I was wrong. I don’t think I want to know any of you that well. Who here can plant thoughts in humans’ minds?”

  Everyone was silent… and surprised, except Heather. I wasn’t sure if they were surprised that I knew about it or if it was bad manners to have asked.

  “I can,” Heather said. “And I’m sure some of the other’s here can as well.”

  “I can’t,” Gideon said, looking at me. His expression was filled with curiosity.

  I shook my head and prayed it conveyed that I knew he hadn’t done it.

  His expression didn’t change. Dammit, why the hell hadn’t I told him? I was an idiot.

  He thought I suspected him of planting the false story in Gram’s mind. My chest tightened and I hoped he’d forgive me after the fact—not for suspecting him, because I didn’t—for not sharing my thoughts. He’d asked me to trust him and I hadn’t… again. Shit. I was already rocking the foundation and the house wasn’t built yet.

  Turning away from him, because I wasn’t about to have that conversation with him publicly, I focused on the Immortals who had not yet spoken.

  “And the rest of you?” I asked.

  “Only those with Heavenly Angelic blood can implant thoughts,” Charlie said. “That would preclude Tim, Candy and myself. Gideon lost the ability when he fell from the Heavens. Heather, you’re an anomaly.”

  “Wait. That can’t be correct,” Heather insisted, confused.

  “Yes, it can,” my father said.

  Heather’s head whipped to the Archangel and her eyes narrowed. “How?”

  He sighed and looked down at the floor for a long moment. A very long moment.

  I could literally hear Heather’s teeth grinding. “If by some chance we’re about to have another Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, we should probably take this outside,” she ground out.

  “As you wish,” John Travolta said, standing up.

  The gasps were loud, but the sounds of Heather’s furiously shouted profanity then her fist connecting to Darth Vader’s face were positively horrifying. I was sure his head must have flown off. I idly wondered if an Immortal could grow another head or if it could be superglued back on. Tim would probably know.

  Faster than a human eye could follow, Gideon dove into the fray and pulled a murderous Heather off the man who clearly got around with the ladies. Charlie stood between Heather and John Travolta with his hands held high. His eyes sparked a blinding silver and his entire body glowed.

  I said a quick prayer that my house would still be standing in the next few minutes, but I kind of doubted it.

  Candy Vargo sat down on the couch next to Tim. They both started shoving burnt Wiener Winks into their mouths like they were eating popcorn as they watched the shitshow unfold.

  “This is turning out to be a great fucking party,” Candy said with a mouthful, elbowing Tim who, in between grabbing another burnt weenie, elbowed her right back.

  The Archangel Michael made no move to attack Heather, just as he’d made no move to retaliate against me when I’d broken his nose. I could only believe he was getting no less than he thought he deserved.

  “I was created!” Heather yelled.

  “Some of us were,” Charlie agreed, eyes still shimmering bright. “Some of us were not.”

  “I have no memory of you,” Heather hissed at the Archangel, trying to break Gideon’s hold and failing. “You lie.”

  “No,” Michael said. “I omit. I do not lie.”

  The meeting had gone very wrong. I’d found out who could plant memories, and a whole hell of a lot more. “Lying by omission counts as lying. You have no sense of responsibility. You’re vile.”

  “Be that as it may,” he said, glancing at me then turning his attention back to Heather, “it came from a higher power than myself that I was to sire you and then leave you to the Universe.”

  Heather shook like a leaf. “I have a mother?” she demanded.

  “I am unaware of who she is,” he said emotionlessly.

  “That seems a little off. Were the lights out?” Candy mused aloud.

  Tim stood and scratched his head. “I know of this. It’s appalling. There was a group created—kind of like thoroughbred horses—no sexual intercourse involved. It was done to streamline the species. Very unethical, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you,” John Travolta said so coldly, I stepped back. “And yes, it was unethical, but we are all aware there are shades of gray around every corner,
especially for those who can’t die. There are many circumstances of which we have no control. I didn’t know that you were one of the products of the experiment until a century ago, and I was forbidden to reach out.”

  “What made you change your mind?” I asked, unable to stop myself. I was sure his answer would be cryptic like it always was.

  “Because it was wrong,” he said. “Because Heather asked. Because she has a right to know.”

  “Will there be consequences for you if they become aware you told me?” Heather asked.

  Michael shrugged. “I have ceased to care. It should not have been a secret.”

  Heather stared at him for a long moment. She calmed herself with effort. She paced the room and gathered her thoughts. “So, basically I’m a horse. An Immortal horse.”

  No one said a word. While Darth Vader was her father in a very indirect sense of the word, he was more of a sperm donor. Literally.

  “I wonder how many exist?” Tim questioned aloud, and then zipped it when Charlie glared at him.

  “Five, from what I understand,” Michael said.

  “Identical to me?” Heather asked.

  “No,” he replied.

  “Unbelievable.” With a huge sigh of resignation, Heather slowly crossed the room and extended her hand to Darth Vader. “I’m sorry for attacking you. Sadly, and unsurprisingly, you were a pawn as much as I was.”

  And yet another turn of events I didn’t see coming. I’d expected a little more bloodshed and possibly a few tears. It had been wildly anticlimactic.

  “Hang on,” I sputtered in shock. “That’s it? You’re not going to punch him again?”

  “No. I’m not,” Heather said, sounding old and tired.

  “Do you want me to punch him?” I offered, wanting to have her back since she always had mine. It wasn’t mature. It wasn’t becoming, but it felt right.

  Heather took a deep breath and then exhaled audibly. “No, but I appreciate the offer. There are things you don’t understand, Daisy—hopefully will never have to understand. We’re all pawns in a larger game. It is what it is. I bear the Archangel no ill will. However, the one punch I got in was satisfying.”