Whose Midlife Crisis Is It Anyway? : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book Two

by Robyn Peterman

“Why?”

  “Because you never know who you might bump into in the near future,” she said, then put her hand up so I wouldn’t question her more.

  “That hand thing is kind of annoying,” I pointed out.

  “It scares the living daylights out of most Immortals,” she said, surprised.

  “Human here,” I reminded her. “Until recently, you were just one of my best friends who I enjoyed giving shit to. You can’t expect me to toe the line, dude.”

  Heather’s grin grew wide and she laughed again. “And that is exactly why you will win.”

  “I sure as hell hope so,” I muttered. “Need to get something straight though. I’m no longer going by what I think people mean.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you saying that since Clarissa is in the light and was banished by Charlie, that I can go back to being the Death Counselor?” I asked. “And that the darkness won’t take Steve if I do?”

  “That’s correct,” Heather said. “My decree that Steve stays where he is until the completion of the tribunal stands. It cannot be altered by anyone.”

  “Heather, can I ask a favor?”

  “Shoot,” she said.

  “Can you stay at the farmhouse with Steve for a few hours while I take a way overdue shower and go see Gram?” I asked as I sprinted over to the stairs and took them two at a time.

  “I’d be happy to,” Heather said as she made herself comfortable on the couch with my puppies. “Do you have Netflix?”

  “Yep. Knock yourself out,” I yelled over my shoulder.

  I had no clue what was going to happen next. However, I knew it felt right to have my dead squatters come home. Plus, I was worried about Gram. Her mind was all there, but her body was fading fast. She didn’t need that kind of stress.

  One thing at a time.

  I’d relieve Gram of her duties.

  I’d make sure she was okay.

  And then… I’d tackle whatever the hell came next.

  Impossible, here I come.

  Chapter Four

  “Okay, I don’t want you to say anything,” I said as I pulled a sweater over my head. “Which is kind of a redundant statement since you’re having a tough time with that right now.”

  Grabbing my purse and my coat, I sat down on the edge of the bed and made sure the afghan was tucked comfortably around Steve.

  “I’m not in a funk anymore and I’m not stuffing my face with junk food,” I lied with a smile that I hoped looked genuine. “I’m not sad. I’m not wallowing, and I took a shower. I’d also like to point out that I’m not wearing sweatpants and a crappy t-shirt.”

  “Dausseeeeee,” Steve whispered in the lovingly stern tone I recognized so well.

  “What?” I asked, not making eye contact. It sucked being a bad liar.

  “Dausseeeeee,” Steve whispered again.

  “Fine. Fine. You’re right,” I conceded, running my hands through my wet hair and smiling for real. “That was a lie. Well, most of it. However, I’m wearing nice jeans and a sweater.”

  Steve grunted and tried to smile back. He was in such bad shape that it was difficult to tell, but I knew him better than anyone. I felt it. I could tell he didn’t approve of the sweater, but it was comfortable and I was going to the nursing home to get my squatters back. It would be all wrong to get dressed up for an activity like that.

  “Teeeerraaaba swaaater,” he said.

  “It is not,” I shot back.

  “Baaaaaagah,” Steve said. “Liisssen toooo gaaauh mawn. Ahh nooowah.”

  “I know it’s baggy. And I think it’s rude but accurate to imply that a gay man has better taste than I do,” I told him with a laugh. “I’m not trying to impress. I’m going to see Gram.”

  “Giiiddon.”

  “Is gone,” I said, biting down on my bottom lip.

  “Naawwwooo.”

  “Yes. I messed up… umm… bad,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in my voice. “But I’m fine, and I don’t want to talk about it. But get this, you’re never going to believe it,” I said, carefully touching his face and changing the subject abruptly. Gideon was out of sight. Gideon needed to be out of mind. That was my new motto. It wasn’t working, but I was trying. “Charlie, June’s husband, is Immortal—some kind of enforcer guy. Could have knocked me over with a feather on that one. And Clarence Smith is not Clarissa’s father. He’s John Travolta.”

  Steve made a sound and gazed up at me with an expression of confusion.

  “Wait.” I laughed and rolled eyes. “Got that wrong. Clarence is not John Travolta. He’s Michael the Archangel—like John Travolta in that movie except he’s the real dude. Crazy, right? Oh, and his last name is not Smith.”

  Steve said nothing, as expected. I wanted him to see I was okay. He’d had a horrible guilt complex in life and it was ten times worse in death. A little relevant gossip might make him happy.

  “Also, here’s the deal,” I said, opening up the blinds in the bedroom so he could get some sunshine. I had no clue if vitamin D did anything for ghosts, but hopefully, it would cheer him up. “The squatters are coming back. Charlie banished the wicked bitch until we have a court date of sorts and no one can harm you or take you from me… even if I keep helping the other dead.”

  “Whheeeerree?” Steve grunted out.

  Thank God I had a history of shorthand-speak with him.

  “The dead went back to Gram,” I said. “That’s not a good thing. I’m headed over there now to rip her a new butt for not telling me.”

  “Goooooouud,” Steve said. “Ssssoooorrry.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry for, Steve,” I said softly. “Nothing.”

  “Dausseeeeee ffeeewl?” he asked.

  I sighed and debated how truthful I should be. I was a shitty liar. I knew it and Steve knew it. Imagining how it would feel to be trapped inside of myself like Steve was right now was awful. If I thought about it too long, I got physically ill. But I would want the truth. I would want to know what was happening.

  It was honesty time. Steve would worry less if I told him how I felt, no matter how unpleasant.

  “It’s not pretty,” I said.

  “S’oookaaay.”

  Breathing in through my nose slowly then out through my mouth even slower, I bought myself a few seconds. “Sometimes my heart doesn’t know how to beat because part of it is missing. And yes, that part is you… and… umm… Gideon, but you are my concern, not him. Period. My lungs don’t know how to breathe if I think too hard and my brain doesn’t know how to focus on anything except how much I want this nightmare to be over for you.”

  Steve made a soft moaning noise.

  “However, that being said,” I went on, forcing myself not to cry. “I can see a light at the end of a dark, long tunnel. Along with everything else, I’m also consumed with hope. And if I’m being really freaking honest—which I am—I feel a hell of a lot of anger.”

  Steve was silent—just watching me with curious eyes.

  “My lady balls are huge,” I said with a small smile tugging at my lips. “And I’m not going to let that go to waste.”

  “Goooooouud. Baaawlls.”

  “That’s right, baby,” I said as I gently kissed what was left of his forehead. “I have very good lady balls and I’m about to test them out.”

  “What the heck is a cop car doing at the nursing home?” I muttered to myself as I made my way across the parking lot, balancing a box of Gram’s favorite doughnuts in one hand and my purse and a jug of apple juice in the other.

  Gram hadn’t been eating as well as she should, according to the nurses. Of course, doughnuts and juice weren’t the healthiest choices, but she loved them and I wanted her to eat. I also needed to get the dead people who had camped out in her room back to my house ASAP.

  The nursing home was in a nice section of town and was very well-maintained. As far as nursing homes went, it was really good. But as wonderful as the nurses and staff were, it wasn’t ho
me in a real sense of the word. If I could’ve taken care of Gram at my house, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. I’d offered the suggestion up so often, I knew I sounded like a broken record. She’d shot me down every time.

  “Crap,” I said aloud as I picked up my pace and my stomach tightened with anxiety. Were the cops here for Gram? Had she been busted for mail fraud?

  If she had, it was going to be seriously hard to explain why she’d been writing letters and cards to the families of the dead from the dead. I suppose we could say she had dementia, but I didn’t want to use that as an excuse in case I made it come true somehow.

  “Shit, it’s freaking Chief Doody’s cruiser,” I hissed as I started to run toward the entrance of the home.

  Dip Doody was the chief of police in our tiny town. His name was a travesty, but we lived in the South. The list of unfortunate names was lengthy. Dip’s brother was Deke and his sister was Daffy. They were all cops. I had no clue if those were nicknames or if their mother had been wasted when she’d named them. Right now, that was irrelevant. Dip Doody didn’t screw around even though he was a nice guy. However, if he was here to arrest Gram, I was about to show him my lady balls… or beg for mercy.

  At this point, I was above very little.

  “Son of a butthole,” I muttered as I saw the chief standing right outside of Gram’s door.

  Strangely, Jennifer was with him. What the hell? Was he arresting Jennifer? The only thing my buddy was guilty of was too much Botox.

  Dip Doody had to be around sixty. He stood six feet tall and towered over my tiny friend. Jennifer was giggling and flirting up a storm.

  Something was not right. Chief Doody had pulled Jennifer over for driving with an expired plate a few weeks back and she’d taken to calling him Big Dick Dookie the Dunghole. Honestly, it wasn’t much worse than his actual name, but whatever.

  Had Jennifer gotten another ticket and decided flirting her way out of it was the way to go? Maybe the Botox had penetrated her skull and gone to her brain.

  “Umm… hi,” I said as I approached, unsure if one of my dearest friends was in trouble with the law.

  I needed to get to Gram, but if Jennifer was headed to the pokey, possibly for calling the chief of police the awful nickname she’d given him, I’d deal with that first.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Great,” Jennifer said as she smacked Dip Doody’s ass.

  I was shocked, but Jennifer was good like that. I was fairly sure slapping a cop’s backside wasn’t exactly legal. Was she freaking asking to spend the night in a jail cell?

  “You have something you want to tell me?” I asked. I didn’t know whether to laugh or drag her away from Chief Doody.

  Dip didn’t seem to mind being groped by my buddy, but the man was very polite.

  “Dick and I were just visiting Gram,” she said with what I thought was a wink.

  It was hard to tell. It looked more like she had some kind of weird eye tic.

  The man grinned and blew out an amused sigh. “It’s Dip. Not Dick.”

  “Whoops, my bad,” Jennifer said with a cackle.

  He was a good-looking man right around Jennifer’s age. His wife had passed a few years ago and all the older gals in town had made a play for the chief of police. He’d paid them no mind and had just gone about his business. Seemed like Jennifer might have cracked that hard shell.

  “Dip, let’s do our thing for Daisy.”

  Chief Doody laughed, put his beefy arm around Jennifer and shook his head. “Darlin’, haven’t we done that enough for one day?” he asked, clearly delighted by my little over-Botoxed fire-cracker of a buddy.

  “One more time,” she pleaded, giving him a smile that was so damn adorable it was no wonder she’d been married so many times. “Daisy needs it. She’s having a bad week.”

  If that wasn’t the understatement of the century…

  Jennifer slapped Dip on the ass again, and he laughed like a besotted fool. She’d clearly entranced Big Dick Dookie the Dunghole.

  “One more time,” he agreed with a wide smile on his handsome face.

  Jennifer bounced on her toes and skipped all the way down the hall away from her new friend.

  “Okay, when I walk by, you say it and I’ll answer,” she called out, pretending to look down at a watch she wasn’t wearing.

  “Will do,” he replied, pretending to be busy adjusting his badge and gun.

  Not knowing what the heck I was about to witness, I felt a little bit like I was in The Twilight Zone. At least the hallway wasn’t filled with ghosts. The bizarre thing going on with Jennifer and the chief would be impossible to focus on if there were dead people in the audience as well.

  Jennifer waltzed down the hallway shaking her hips from side to side so hard, I thought she might throw her back out. I was tempted to ask her if she needed some fries with that shake but figured the timing might be a little off. It was like Jazzercise gone very wrong. The temptation to laugh was huge.

  “Well, hello, ma’am,” Chief Doody said, puffing out his chest and nodding his head to my friend, who looked like she was trying to dislodge a wedgie without physically pulling her panties out of her crack.

  “Are you talking to me?” Jennifer asked, doing her best Scarlett O’Hara.

  “Why yes, ma’am, I am,” he replied, winking at her.

  “HOWDY, DOODY,” Jennifer squealed, and laughed so hard that Dip Doody had to whack her on the back when she started to choke. “Get it, Daisy? Howdy Doody! Because Dip’s last name is Doody and I said howdy like that show with that puppet that scared the shit out of me as a kid. Howdy Doody!”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was so ridiculous and she was so proud of herself.

  “Jenny, I’m gonna have to get back to work,” Dip said, looking mighty pleased with himself as well. “You want a ride back to town?”

  “You bet your fine ass I do,” Jennifer said with a giggle. “Let me just talk to Daisy for a second and I’ll meet you at the cruiser.”

  “Nice to see you, Daisy,” Chief Doody said with a nod of his head as he made his exit.

  “Mmkay, Jenny,” I said with a raised brow.

  “That man is hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch,” Jennifer said as she watched him walk down the hall and out the front door.

  “That was a really gross analogy,” I pointed out.

  “But it’s true,” she said.

  “Just tell me you’re not getting married again,” I said.

  “Haven’t banged him yet, so I’m not sure,” Jennifer replied.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep,” she said. “I need to sample the milk before I buy the cow.”

  “Your way with words never fails to amaze,” I told her.

  “Thank you. As far as I can tell, the only thing wrong with him is that he likes to hike,” she explained in all seriousness.

  “Hiking is a deal-breaker?” I asked, squinting at her.

  “I’ll let you know after I bang him,” she replied with a wicked little grin.

  “Alrighty then,” I said with a shake of my head. “I need to visit with Gram. You want to come?”

  “Just spent an hour with her. Dip and I had her laughing like a loon.”

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning it.

  I hadn’t been to see Gram in a few days. I’d been too afraid to leave my house.

  “Welcome,” Jennifer said, pilfering one of the doughnuts. “Odd thing though.”

  “What?” I asked, worried that maybe Gram had spoken about the dead to Jennifer and Chief Doody—not that they’d believe her.

  “She was watching Survivor. Never known Gram to watch anything but game shows.”

  Actually, it wasn’t odd at all. The squatters adored reality television.

  “I’ll make sure she’s okay,” I promised as I leaned over and gave Jennifer a quick kiss on the cheek. “And thank you again for visiting with her. She adores you.”

  “Feeling
’s mutual,” Jennifer said as she skipped down the hallway toward the front door to the police cruiser and potential husband number six. “I love Gram like she was my own.”

  I loved Gram too. I loved her with my entire heart.

  And now I was about to go in there and rip her a new one… because I loved her.

  Chapter Five

  Gram looked tiny and frail in the adjustable bed I’d bought her. The bed had cost me almost three full paychecks and the nursing home had pitched a hissy when I’d moved it in, but I’d prevailed. There was pretty much nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

  Gram had raised me at a time when her life should have been a whole lot easier. When I was five and my mom died, Gram had stepped up—not one question or doubt in her mind about taking me in and raising me as her own. She loved me something fierce and I loved her right back.

  I’d recently learned that my mother’s death was no accident. My mother had been a Death Counselor like my gram before her, and now me. She’d taken her own life when a ghost she’d fallen in love with had been sent into the darkness. I hadn’t dealt with those emotions yet and wasn’t sure I would ever visit that place.

  Misplaced anger at my long-dead mother would not be productive right now. All my anger was reserved for Clarissa at the moment and it burned searing hot inside of me.

  “Umm… old lady, you have something you’d like to share?” I asked as I glanced around and took in the scene.

  The ghosts were everywhere. Counting them was impossible since they floated in and out of each other. But if I had to guess, I’d say at least thirty had moved into Gram’s small quarters. Random body parts were strewn across the floor. Most had congregated around the television and were watching Survivor with rapt attention. Only a few noticed I’d arrived.

  It was a hot mess, and it was about to end. Thank God Jennifer and Chief Doody had been blind to what was happening under their noses. I suppose I was one of the lucky ones—lucky being a relative word—that I was able to see the secret side. Not to mention, all of the body parts would be tremendously difficult to explain.

  “Daisy girl,” Gram said with a smile that lit up her eyes. “How are you doin’, baby?”