Gertie pointed at Randy, “See! I told you! That picture scares the bejeesus out of me, too, Leigh. Look at it. Why is that ghastly looking person screaming? It’s downright unnerving. You said it made a statement, but I don’t get it. Leigh doesn’t get it either, Randy.”
Randy stayed with his French accent, “You…You uncouth peasants. You ignorant—” Then I threw the nearest projectile I could grab, a bookend. It bounced off his head and his accent was gone. “Ouch! What the hell just hit me in the head?”
It was my turn to try a French accent. “It was how you say…a fucking bookend. You imbecile, you ignoramus.”
Gertie laughed so hard she was in tears. “Good shot, Leigh! Randy looked just like the guy on The Scream.”
“Sorry, Randy,” I apologized. “Never mind. It’s all very different. It’s hip. It’s bright and I’m sure everyone will love it. It doesn’t so much speak to you as it just screams at you.” I was already planning on what I could set on top of the rug’s scary screaming face.
Hunter came in while looking at a large piece of paper. “Okay, I’m putting together this entertainment center. Normally, I wouldn’t read the instructions, but this thing has the weirdest assembly that I’ve ever seen. So I take out these instructions and they are all in Swedish. Swedish for Christ’s sake!” He looked up from the instructions and got his first look at the new décor. We all waited for the reaction. “Wow! Cool.” He turned his attention back to the instructions.
Randy looked at us and shrugged. “That was easier than I expected.”
“You have to remember who raised Hunter. This sort of décor is normal for him.” I heard Hunter mumbling something about the Swedish furniture store as he walked away. “Speaking of parents. Randy, you come from a big family and your parents come from two very different cultural groups. Your siblings all have pretty diverse relationships. Has it ever been a problem with anyone?”
“Why would it be?” Randy asked in a dismissive tone.
“Okay, I’m just going to be blunt here. Your parents for example. Your mom is Russian Jewish and your dad is from a very Catholic Sicilian family. Our parents are all second generation American families, so I wonder how much they’ve all assimilated, you know when it comes down to values. Was everyone just okay with it? Your family seems to get along pretty well.”
“You’re talking to the wrong guy. Come on, Leigh. You know my family. We’re big, we’re loud, and we are as crazy as the monkeys on Gertie’s cat farm. We put the word fun in dysfunctional for fuck’s sake. Anyway, I think you’re making too big of a deal about it. I don’t think you should worry at all. You think way too much sometimes.”
“Maybe I am. I’m probably just a little nervous. I really want my parents and Hunter’s parents to get along. This Thanksgiving will be the first real test.”
Gertie took my hand. “Randy’s right, Leigh. You’re worrying about something you can’t control. They are who they are. No matter what you say, do, or worry about, it’s up to them. Just let it go. It’s so unlike you to not be more optimistic. It’s almost like your expecting something bad.”
“Exactly.” I can’t say I felt any better about my worries. I just realized that it was me that was hanging my expectations on the behavior of others, something completely out of my control. And that’s always a boneheaded move.
Chapter Sixteen
Sleighing the Elfa
“See you after your shift, baby. Be safe. I love you.” I hung up the call and stretched across the bed. Luna seemed to be mimicking my moves. I was enjoying a rare Wednesday without classes by sleeping in. “Tomorrow is the big Thanksgiving Day feast, Luna. I haven’t bought any groceries or even looked up any recipes.”
“Meow. Meow.” Luna retrieved an advertising page from the newspaper.
“What’s this? Are you trying to say something?” The ad was for the familiar large grocery store in the neighborhood. Something caught my eye. “Whoa! Check this out. Complete Thanksgiving Day Feast. Roast turkey with all of the trimmings. Everything is already cooked to perfection! Damn. If Millie wasn’t coming with the turkey, I would be all over this deal. All I’d have to do is put the stuff in my own dishes and act like I made it. Think of the headache and stress that would save me. Next year that’ll be our little secret.”
“Meow.”
“Time to get on the internet and print off a typical menu for our meal. Of course any recipes also, but I think I can get by with prepared frozen foods. I’m going to be one microwaving witch.”
“Meow.”
“Yeah, call me lazy if you like, but I happen to know my limitations.” Luna and I went downstairs and were immediately assaulted by Randy’s décor. It was far too early to deal with that, so we headed for the kitchen. I set my laptop up on the island and started browsing. “Here we go. A typical Thanksgiving feast. I’ll print this off and then do some shopping.”
I was right, it seemed that there was a convenient frozen version for everything, even the pumpkin pie. Once I arrived home a couple of hours later, I started filling the freezer. “I don’t get it, Luna. I distinctly remember hearing people bitch and moan about how much work went into cooking a holiday meal. If you ask me, it’s not any worse than heating up my lunch at school.” I was free to enjoy the rest of my day by getting some writing in.
I had made some changes to Bangin’ the Billion-were and I jumped right in to writing Fangin’ the Billion-were. I was only interrupted once and it was a truly pleasant surprise, courtesy of the Postal Service. “What is this? Another offer for a story submission?” I skimmed through the pertinent parts of the letter. “Okay, the publisher is asking if I could submit a Christmas themed paranormal romance story. I have to think about that. I wonder if I could pull it off. What do you say, Luna? Should I stop the Billion-were story and crank one on out for them?”
“Meow.”
“Are you kidding? It’ll be the easiest writing since I’ve started doing this.”
“Meow.”
“Okay. I am still talking to my cat way too much. My very cynical and pessimistic cat.”
“Meow.”
I picked up my phone and called Kelly. When she answered, all I heard was mumbling, light clinks, and little scraping noises of a thousand little things being slid across Kelly’s nightstand. I’m sort of a neat freak, but when it comes to the little stand next to my side of the bed, it is anything but neat. And Kelly had the same habit. Those things become a catch-all for hair clips, nail clippers, tweezers, pins, you name it and it just might be on the nightstand. Or as Luna prefers to call it, her toy box. In any case, the sounds told me that Kelly was still in bed.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?”
“mmm bm mmb”
“Wait, don’t answer that. Do you have some time to hang out? I have a new story that I’m really excited about writing. Check this out, a paranormal Christmas romance. I—” I was interrupted by a very distinct sound of licking. Through the phone it made me feel like I was getting licked in the ear. “Eww! What the fuck? What the hell are you doing? Licking the phone?”
Kelly’s voice boomed from somewhere in the background. “Hey! Lucifer’s Bastard! Get back on the floor!”
I wish I could have taken a picture of my face. My eyebrows must have been tied in a damn bow and my lips grotesquely curved. I pulled the phone an inch away from my ear. “What the hell? Lucifer’s Bastard? What sick stuff is going on over there?” I pictured Luke gagged and tied up in some leather contraption on the floor, Kelly’s stiletto heels cradling his head.
A small dog yipped and barked into the phone and then Kelly picked it up. “Hello? Who’s this and why were you talking to Lucifer’s Bastard? Do you speak dog?” Kelly asked.
“It’s me, Leigh!” I started laughing. “Oh, you...you wouldn’t believe...ha ha…what I was thinking. I didn’t know what was going on over there. Oh man.”
“I can only imagine. So what’s up?”
“Wait, is Lucifer’s Ba
stard a new dog?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said, as if she was disappointed or apologetic—maybe both. “I saw one of those Chihuahua rescue posts online on Sunday. You know I can’t resist Chihuahuas. He was a local stray I guess. I have to get him fixed. Although, if he spends any more time with Lorena, he won’t have anything left for the vet to chop off. She’s been enjoying the fact that there’s a fresh set to munch on, and it’s conveniently located at her dinner table height.”
Lorena is Kelly’s other Chihuahua. She was aptly named after the infamous wife who lobbed off her cheating husband’s tallywacker, then chucked the little wiggler out of her car window while she drove away from the crime scene. I say Kelly’s dog is “aptly named” because Lorena has a propensity to leap up and chomp down on any male genitalia.
“Ouch! Poor thing. And you named it Lucifer’s Bastard?”
“Only after he chewed up my good pleather fuck-me boots,” Kelly said.
“God forbid! Your pleather fuck-me boots! Oy! To lose such a treasure,” I snarked in my best imitation of Kelly’s mom.
“Nice. Thanks for that, smartass. I was planning on wearing those boots tonight. Anyway, I had just been calling him Bastard up until that point, but then to add insult to injury, the little freak started humping the boots while he was chewing. That’s when I unleashed Lorena on his nasty little ass. You should have seen her go after Bastard’s little twig and berries! She clamped down, dug in her feet, and pulled like she was trying to yank a stump out of the ground.”
“Ouch. Poor Lucifer’s Bastard.”
“Well, what were we talking about to begin with? I can’t remember why you called.”
“That’s a good question. Oh, yeah, I have the chance to write a paranormal Christmas romance. I just wanted to run my ideas past you to see what you think. Can you flash over for a few?”
“I’m sorry. I’m stuck watching a herd of nieces and nephews. Later on I’m meeting Esmeralda and Marie.”
“What about Lindsey, do you know what she’s up to?”
“Oh yeah, Lindsey and Derek are out breaking every clause of the fuck-buddy contract. As a far as I can tell, they aren’t even fuck-buddies! They’re going to the movies, going to eat, they even went to an opera for Christ’s sake.”
“That’s great! Things seem to be moving along fast for them. I feel bad because we haven’t spent much time together.”
“I’m preparing to assume the role of the one friend who ends up perpetually single. Every clique has one. You, Gertie and Lindsey will all be married with enough kids to fill your own kindergarten and I’ll be sitting at home with my fifty-nine rescued Chihuahuas, a bottle of banana flavored Mad Dog and a vibrator to keep me company.”
“Hush, Kelly. You can get into a relationship easier than anyone whenever you want. You’re socially gifted.”
“Yeah, I’m just kidding. I have no desire to settle down right now. Things are way too fun lately. Anyway, tell me more about your idea for the story.”
“Okay, think of all the supernatural beings that you hear about around Christmas—flying reindeer, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman. Of course, you also have a village full of elves and that place is run by the most paranormal Alpha male character of them all, Santa Claus. There’s a Mrs. Claus, of course. From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t get to do shit around there. It’s all about Santa. Santa this and Santa that. The smaller elves are his slave labor. Let’s face it, Kelly, Santa is a real megalomaniac. Poor Mrs. Claus, a kept woman, stuck up there in Santa’s frickin’ castle in the North Pole. Probably freezing her ass off, too.”
“Interesting. I’ve never looked at Santa like that. You make him sound like a real son of a bitch.”
“So, get this. What if Mrs. Claus has had enough of the status quo? Totally over Santa. Maybe she realizes that it’s time for a new Alpha to run the pack of elves. She’d have to get the elves on her side, of course. There could be factions among the elves. Some would probably remain as loyalists to Santa. Then you’d have other rebel elves that would support Mrs. Claus. Now this is where I could bring in some erotica…but they would be her allies only because she decided it was high time to heat up her love life. Maybe she seduces some of the elves. Hmm…perhaps…a romantic love affair with one particularly hot elf. Hell, maybe she could work her way through a whole group of the little fuckers. She’d have to watch her back with those elves, though. I think in some myths elves are not that nice. Are you with me on this so far?”
“I am! Keep going, I want to hear more.”
“It almost goes without saying that she’d have to plot the demise of the evil Santa. Maybe she is actually a witch and uses her powers to sabotage Santa’s sleigh.”
“Aha! The plot thickens.”
“Oh wow! I just thought of a great title. Check this out…you ready for it? Sleighing the Elfa—The Elf Pack Book 1. Get it? Sleighing instead of slaying and Elfa instead of Alpha. You could easily write a whole series around this pack of elves.”
“It is fantastic. I think you have a best-seller on your hands there. You need to write it. Sorry I didn’t have anything to add, but you seemed to be pulling it all together just fine.”
“I just needed to talk to someone besides Luna, and Hunter is working.”
“Have fun! I’ll see you for Thanksgiving. I’ll be there early. Ciao, Bella.” Kelly ended the call. She’s such a weirdo because she knows I blush whenever she says that to me.
I remembered my dream, or what I hoped was a dream. Sybil said she had hoped for a male, feline, female erotic story, or an MFF. Who would want to read about a man, a woman, and a cat? Unless the cat shapeshifts into another woman. Still, something like that would be a little tougher for me to write. As a matter of fact, it would require a couple of those magic brownies washed down with some of the hexed Mad Dog wine and an evening talking about kinky group sex with Kelly if I ever wanted to write that one. All things considered, I decided to not even broach the subject with Kelly.
Luna was already on my desk, waiting for me to get to work. “So, you heard me talking to Kelly and you think it’s a great idea, too?” Only another cat owner would think it’s perfectly normal behavior to seek their cat’s approval. Darkness came early, another sign of the long and cold Chicago winter still ahead. I was so caught up in Sleighing the Elfa flowing from my head that I didn’t ever hear Hunter come home. I screamed when two strong hands wrapped over my shoulders and across my chest.
“Hey baby! It’s me!” Hunter had reflexively jumped back away from me. A good move on his part because I also shot straight up.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry. I come bearing gifts…of food and a bottle of wine. This is actual wine, the kind that comes in a bottle with a cork in it. Not that cough syrup like Gertie picked up. That stuff came in a bottle with a screw-on top.”
I sniffed. “Italian. Gnocchi, marinara, and fresh mozzarella.”
“It’s not exactly a Thanksgiving feast, but I was thinking tonight should be Thanksgiving. The wine is so that you’ll be giving and I’ll be thanking.”
“Hey! You stole my line from the first time we did it. You plagiarist. Should I punish you with more teasing?” I was referring to the day he was handcuffed to the bed after the cat suit was removed and my two witch friends had left. I teased him by grinding on him, touching and kissing him, and finally stripping while on top of him. His cuffs stayed on for quite a while. Ever since then, I had been teasing him a little here and there. We were on the fourth night of my teasing game. How long before he can’t control himself? I wondered. How long before he just ravages me? I knew it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, and I planned on giving in that night.
“More teasing? Ever since I was handcuffed to the bed, I knew you were playing some kind of game. I just don’t know why. It’s so unlike you.” He walked closer to me. “You know I can’t resist you anyway. The last few days have been torture.” He was only a few inches from me and he slowly lowe
red himself, just enough. He put his arms confidently around me—one behind the small of my back while the other slid down across my ass. I felt his large hand grab the back of my thigh. I threw my arms around his neck and without warning he lifted me up, pulling my leg around his waist. I threw my other leg around him. Suspended in his grasp, he kissed me in the way that only Hunter can. Passionately kissing me, as if he was devouring my very soul. By the way, I really need to remember that line for my current book.
“Game over,” I softly said when our lips parted.
Chapter Seventeen
Lest We Forget
“Leigh, whatever it is, you can talk to me,” Lindsey said with genuine concern.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you wiping tears from your eyes. You don’t have to hide it.”
“What?” Gertie had overheard Lindsey and now she was in on the interrogation. “Leigh’s crying? What happened?”
“Nothing! I yawned. Whenever I’m super tired I yawn, and my eyes always water—like crazy.” I was serious. In school I used to hide my face whenever I yawned or face the inquest about what made me cry. Just another bonus genetic option that was added to my DNA.
“I swear I’ve explained the eyes watering yawn thing to you both. I barely slept last night. Hunter and I stayed up super late and before I knew it, my house was filling up with you guys. By the way, you do realize that it’s only 7:45 in the morning?”
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