“No time for crying,” June said, leaning on Charlie as he came up behind her and put his arms around the love of his life. “Gram would want us to turn that frown upside down.”
“Darn tootin’,” Gram said, zooming in circles around June and Charlie.
Charlie covertly winked at Gram and gave his wife a squeeze.
“You sure you’re fine riding home with Chief Doody, Jennifer, and Missy?” he asked June.
“Absolutely. Kind of excited to ride in the back of the cruiser, seeing as I’ve never been arrested before,” June said with a grin. “Now Charlie, I want you to help Daisy break down all the tables and chairs. And anyhoo, if I rode home with you, there wouldn’t be any room in the car for me and my big bottom once you load it up.”
“It’s a lovely bottom,” Charlie told her as she blushed and fanned herself with her hand.
“You’re a keeper, Charlie,” she said, giving him another peck on the cheek. “After you get done, make sure Daisy eats something. I didn’t see her eat much this afternoon.”
June gave me the mom eye then winked.
“Will do,” Charlie promised.
“We’re out,” Missy announced. “I love you, and I know Gram would have loved today.”
“Got that right,” Gram said, hanging upside down on the ceiling fan.
“I still can’t get over her knockers,” Jennifer said. “They were downright perky. That Goober Walton is a genius. I’m gonna make an appointment with him.”
“For the love of everything tacky,” Gram groused, falling from the ceiling and landing on top of Jennifer’s head. “Make sure she doesn’t ask Goober for a boob job. That would be a god-dang disaster.”
Making use of a two-fer again, I nodded to both women. Gram was correct though. Jennifer needed to stop with the self-improvements. She was awesome as she was.
“You don’t need Goober Walton to make you beautiful, Jenny,” Dip said. “You’re pretty dang perfect in my book right now.”
“You just earned yourself a BJ,” Jennifer announced to all who were left.
Dip belly laughed and shook his head. “I’ll meet you gals at the cruiser when you’re ready to go.”
“Are you going to marry him?” Missy asked when Dip was out of earshot.
“Nope. Gonna live in sin with that fine man until the day I die,” Jennifer said. “Like I told Daisy, I love him way too much to marry him.”
“When did you start making so much sense?” Heather asked with a grin. “As I recall, you used to call him Big Dick Dookie the Dunghole.”
Jennifer burst into laughter and made a valiant attempt at waggling her eyebrows. The Botox blocked her move. “Yep. Shortened it. Just going by Big Dick Dip now.”
“You’re just awful,” June said, giggling.
“Thank you,” Jennifer replied with a thumbs up. “You gals ready?”
“We are,” Missy said, giving me one last hug. “Call me if you need to talk.”
“I will,” I promised as I watched June chastise Jennifer for her TMI comment all the way out of the front door. “And thank you for the book. Heather dropped it off.”
“Got one for myself to see what all the fuss was about,” Missy said. “Can’t read a word of it, dude. Not sure it’s going to be helpful. I can search for something else on the Sumerian language written in English if you want me to.”
“Nope. It’s no big deal,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’ll use it as a doorstop.”
Missy grinned. “Good thinking.”
Heather walked her out, and I wondered if something was happening between them again. I hoped so.
“Full disclosure,” Tim said, walking over to me and looking guilty. “I hid your toys.”
I’d thrown out the first batch of vibrators and it was looking abundantly clear that I was going to have to toss the two new toys I’d ordered.
“Is that what a good friend would do?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Actually, yes,” Tim said, rocking from one foot to the other.
“Not following.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
Tim glanced around then leaned in close. “Some of those terrible Gladiola women were digging through your drawers. I busted them and took names. They will not be receiving mail for the next six months.”
My mouth hung open. People could seriously suck.
“So, to keep them from your filthy secrets, I hid your electronic sin tools.”
“Umm… thank you,” I choked out with a horrified laugh. “That is exactly what a good friend would do.”
Tim preened and rocked even faster. “Thought so. Glad I got it right.”
“You did,” I told him. I was tempted to hug him, but that might scare him. We’d get to that eventually.
“Is everyone ready to meet?” Gideon asked.
“How long will this take?” Clarence Smith inquired, checking his watch.
“As long as necessary,” Gideon replied in a curt tone.
“Of course,” Clarence said. “My apologies.”
“No fighting… yet,” Candy Vargo said, eyeing both Clarence and Gideon. “I say we get started. Now.”
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered as I let my head fall forward. The swirling grain in the oak of my kitchen table was far more interesting that the gibberish that was being shouted and echoing throughout the house.
The furious disagreement between the two powerful men made me wish I’d told everyone to go home.
“Just be happy no one is throwing lightening,” Candy Vargo whispered, picking her teeth with a toothpick.
I stared at her with my mouth open. I never knew if the woman was serious or just trying to screw with my head. “Is that an actual possibility?”
She winked. “Yep. You wearing rubber soled shoes?”
“No,” I hissed under my breath. “I’m wearing my funeral freaking best. Tennis shoes don’t exactly go with dress clothes.”
Candy shrugged and grinned. Lifting her leg, she showed me her ratty tennis shoes. “I beg to differ.”
It was truly horrifying that Candy was the Immortal in charge of karma. She was a hot mess of rude and some serious scary.
“I suppose you could duck,” she suggested with a chuckle.
Rolling my eyes, I was tempted to flip her off. However, tempting fate wasn’t a great plan. “Roger that,” I said and turned my attention back to the action I hoped wouldn’t take my house down.
The Grim Reaper and the highest-level Angel in existence fighting in a dead language wasn’t what I’d envisioned when I’d called the meeting of the Immortals in my kitchen. It had been a heck of a long day with Gram’s funeral and over half the town in my home for the reception afterwards.
“You okay, Daisy?” Heather questioned quietly.
I smiled and shrugged. “Not sure I know the meaning of the word anymore.”
She gave my hand and quick squeeze and watched as the undecipherable argument grew more heated. With a reassuring glance, she moved to the kitchen counter and observed the disagreement with an emotionless expression on her lovely face. Having Heather here was a blessing.
My head felt like it might explode. Gideon and Clarence had been arguing back and forth in Sumerian for an hour. I couldn’t understand a word. The ghosts had gotten bored and wandered away in search of a reality show to watch. Gram had stayed.
Gram had nodded off a few times and fell off of her chair, but in her defense, she’d had a big day. How often did one get to attend one’s own funeral as a ghost? Gram’s mid-service crash landing on top her dead body in the casket she’d chosen to match her hair wasn’t an everyday occurrence. However, it did make for an excellent story.
“Eat this,” Candy Vargo said, slapping down a plate in front of me at the kitchen table while the two men continued to debate. “Those nosey bitches who showed up left enough food to feed an army.”
Glancing down, I couldn’t quite understand what I was seeing. Candy was clearly as messy with her food as she was with h
er appearance. Potato salad was piled on top of apple pie. Next to it sat a piece of fried chicken dangerously close to a large helping of banana pudding. The topper was the unidentifiable casserole that had blueberries and ground beef in it.
It was all I could do not to gag.
“Umm… thanks,” I said. “Not hungry right now.”
“Try that,” Candy insisted, pointing her ever-present toothpick at the blueberry beef surprise. “Looks disgusting. I want to know if it tastes as bad as it looks.”
I pushed the plate over to her. “Then you try it.”
Candy shrugged, removed the toothpick from her mouth and took a bite of the mysterious concoction. “Tastes like baked ass with blueberries,” she muttered, swallowing with effort.
I was wildly pleased she didn’t spit it back out onto the plate. Candy’s manners were iffy at best.
“Can you understand them?” I whispered as I watched Gideon grow angrier and Clarence narrow his eyes in displeasure.
“Yep,” she replied, putting her tennis-shoe-clad feet on my kitchen table.
“Nope.” I knocked her feet back to the floor. “Tell me what they’re saying.”
“Can I put my feet back up?” Candy bargained.
“Only if you want to eat the entire blueberry ass casserole,” I shot back.
“Spicy,” Candy muttered with a laugh and scooted her chair closer to me. “They’re arguing about if you can be trusted to tell the truth of what you see in Steve’s mind. Clarence believes you’re too close to be neutral. The Angel of Mercy stands to lose everything if she’s deemed guilty. The Grim Reaper is on your side completely… of course, you’re banging him.”
“First of all, I’m not banging him,” I snapped. “And if I was it’s not any of your business. While I do understand you’re a badass who could probably incinerate me with a flick of your woefully under-manicured finger, I’d like to remind you that I punched a freaking tree and it fell over.”
Candy eyed me until I grew uncomfortable. Unsure if she was going to tear my head off with her bare hands or laugh, I held my breath.
“You’ve got enormous nards,” she stated, raising her brow.
“Lady balls,” I corrected her.
“Whatever,” Candy said. “It’s impressive.”
“Thank you,” I replied, shaking my head. My Southern manners were ingrained. A rude compliment was still a compliment and required a polite response.
Candy stabbed the baked blueberry ass with her tooth pick and pulled out a fresh one. “So, as I said, Clarence isn’t on your side, Death Counselor.”
“John Travolta is being a dick,” I hissed under my breath. “And Clarissa is guilty.”
“What you just said is proof of Clarence’s issue,” Candy pointed out. “You’ve already damned the Angel of Mercy without proof of guilt. While I hate the bitch, I have to side with Clarence on this.”
Shit. She did have a point. I questioned how far I would go to ensure the safety of Steve’s afterlife. I would go very far… very, very far.
“The problem is that Gideon has found in the text that it’s impossible for another to join a Death Counselor in the mind of the dead,” Charlie said quietly.
“Do you agree with John Travolta and Candy that I can’t be trusted?” I asked.
Charlie was quiet for a long moment. “Trust is not the issue,” Charlie explained. “Much more than you can comprehend is on the line. What I do believe is that your loyalty is with Steve. It muddies the waters.”
“There’s another way,” Tim announced loudly.
Everyone stopped and stared at Tim. God, I hoped my new, socially awkward, vibrator rehoming friend was going to make sense.
“Speak,” Gideon said tersely.
“Daisy is a hybrid Angel,” Tim said, pointing to my eyes.
That woke Gram up fast. “What in tarnation are you talkin’ about?” she demanded. “Her mamma was a human Death Counselor just like me and just like Daisy.”
“And her father?” Tim asked.
Gram sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“If this is true,” I said, feeling strange and a little panicky. “What does it have to do with anything?”
“Interesting,” Karma said, leaning in and studying my eyes. “I hadn’t noticed. Very, very interesting.”
“Again. Why?” I demanded. “How does the possibility of me being some kind of half-breed freak help get justice for Steve?”
Ignoring my question, Clarence leveled me with a hard look. “What is it that you want? To send your dead husband into the light or to destroy the Angel of Mercy?”
“The Angel of Mercy damned Steve to the darkness out of hatred of me. Her decision can’t stand.” I snapped. “So to answer your question… it’s one and the same.”
“Not necessarily,” he replied.
“Bullshit,” Heather said. “You would let the Angel of Mercy take a plea deal, so to speak? Get away with taking fate into her own hands unchecked? That is not how it works.”
Clarence brought his fist down on the table in frustration. “Do you have any idea what stripping an Angel could do to the order of the Universe? Do you?” he shouted.
“I do,” Gideon said coldly. His eyes turned red and his features sharpened. “I know exactly what happens when an Angel falls.”
“With all due respect,” Charlie said, nodding at Gideon. “We’re not talking about a demotion. We’re talking a removal of power, heritage and Immortality.”
“Shit,” Karma muttered with a laugh. “That would certainly suck.”
“Enough,” Clarence growled. “If the facts are indeed proven against the Angel of Mercy, the punishment shall be doled out and the price will be paid. But…”
“But what?” I asked, feeling like my world was spiraling out of control. Was Clarissa going to get off scot-free?
“But I see no clear way to prove that your husband’s death was indeed an accident,” he finished, sounding tired.
The room was silent. Gideon’s jaw worked a mile a minute and he looked like he wanted to kill Clarence. Heather was furious and pressing her temples. Gram was simply in shock. Candy seemed bored, and Tim…
Tim was grinning.
“I see a way,” Tim said.
Tim had just moved to the top of my friend list.
“Out with it, Courier,” Charlie demanded, focusing on Tim with interest.
“Blood-related Angels can see into each other’s mind by touch,” Tim reminded the others.
“This is true,” Heather said, getting excited. “It can also be broadcast.”
“Meaning?” Gram asked, as befuddled as I was.
“Meaning, an Angel could send—or rather, telecast—what he or she sees to those Immortals within close proximity,” Gideon explained.
“Like a TV show?” Gram asked.
“Close enough,” Candy confirmed, no longer bored.
“The point?” Clarence asked tersely.
“Daisy was sired by an Angel,” Tim explained. “He can be used to show us what Daisy sees in the mind of her husband. We would all relive the death and know the outcome. Daisy’s neutrality or lack thereof would no longer be an issue.”
My hope died as quickly as it had started. There was a huge hurdle. An impossible hurdle.
“I don’t know who my father is,” I said flatly. “The plan is not possible.”
“Nothing is impossible as long as you believe,” Candy reminded me, twirling her toothpick in her fingers.
“While the idea is excellent, the reality is not. I have no idea who he is,” I repeated.
“Clarence,” Tim said, sounding ominous and cold. “Would you care to join the discussion?”
Everyone watched as Tim stood and walked to the back of the chair where Michael the Archangel was seated.
“I would not,” Clarence ground out.
“Would you rather I deliver the news? I am the Courier after all.”
Clarence Smith was not a happy man.
It was very clear he knew who my father was. It was also clear that he didn’t want to give up the information. Hatred for the man who had been so kind to me for years blossomed in my chest and made it difficult to breathe. Was he so taken with Clarissa that he would let her get away with unforgivable crimes?
I’d take a Demon over an Angel any day of the week.
“The conversation is over,” Clarence said. “The meeting is done.”
“The conversation has just started,” Charlie said in a tone that made me want to hide. Charlie’s eyes blazed silver and his hands sparked menacingly. “You will reveal the name of Daisy’s father, Archangel… or there will be hell to pay. Am I clear?”
The house shook, and I wondered for a brief moment if I would have to find a new place to live. I glanced over at Gideon, but his blood-red gaze was trained on Clarence.
No one knew who my father was other than John Travolta and Tim. That was abundantly clear by the reactions of the rest of them.
“The answer will be displeasing,” Clarence said, devoid of emotion.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I want nothing to do with the man other than using him to save Steve. I’ll use him like he used my mother. He is nothing to me other than a sperm donor, a deadbeat asshole, and a means to an end. Period.”
“I’m quite sure he’ll be relieved to hear that,” Tim said with an undecipherable expression on his face. “Clarence, will you make sure to tell him what his daughter said?”
Clarence sat silently, and then genuflected.
“Making the sign of the cross won’t save you,” Tim said. “Speak now, or I shall.”
I was ready to puke. I didn’t understand what the heck the holdup was.
“Give me his name,” I said. “Tell me where he is. I won’t let him know how I found out. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Oh, the irony,” Tim said with a chuckle as the Archangel’s body tensed in fury.
“Shut up!” Clarence roared at Tim then turned his angry gaze on me. “I’m your father.”
The next few moments defined the term deafening silence.
The looks exchanged between the Immortals were ones of shock and confusion. Gideon was ready to strangle the Angel.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, standing up and not caring that Gram heard me drop an F-bomb. “Are we in a Star Wars movie? Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Whose Midlife Crisis Is It Anyway? : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book Two Page 21