“Screw you, mommy,” Samuel said, blowing me a kiss.
As I opened my mouth, I caught Ethan’s raised brow and closed it immediately.
“Never explain,” he mouthed as he got down on the floor with our baby. “Samuel the best way to say bye to people is to say, I love you or see you later. Screw you is only for mommy and daddy. Okay?”
“Okay,” Samuel said as he handed Ethan a train and got back to the business of playing.
I was amazed.
I wondered if the same strategy would work with Mother Nature…
Only one way to find out.
***
“So this is the gay Demon that Satan sent to plan your wedding?” Mother Nature questioned in disbelief as she pointed her long perfectly manicured nail at Charles.
Poor Charles was alone on top of the oversized teak kitchen table looking traumatized from his short time with Mother Nature. She was good like that. I wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten from Ethan’s office to the kitchen, but thinking too hard about that would give me a headache—something that was almost virtually impossible for a Vampyre.
Gigi circled my three-headed monster and tsked with distaste. Charles stared at me with wide eyes and a terrified expression on all three of his faces.
My grandmother was dressed to the nines as usual in a gorgeous shimmering green diaphanous gown, but she was covered in flour and I was fairly certain there was a glob of pink icing in her red hair. None of this boded well for a pleasant visit.
“Um, no. He’s not gay.” I moved closer to shield Charles just in case Mother Nature decided to eliminate him permanently. “Wait. Are you gay?” I asked my multi-headed wedding planner from Hell.
“Noooooo,” he replied. “I like booooooobies.”
“Have you introduced him to the Baby Demons? He seems to have a lot in common with them,” Mother Nature commented dryly.
She was correct. My Baby Demons loved boobies—well, Abe and Ross did. Beyoncé and Rachel were more into butts and pecs. They were miniature destructive nightmares, but I loved them. I was quite sure Charles was going to fit right in.
“I’m a gay Demon named Doug!” Fat Doug volunteered as he did jazz runs across the room and finished with a pose so awkward I flinched in sympathy pain.
“So why aren’t you planning the shindig?” Gigi asked as she began removing cakes from the mound of boxes she’d brought.
“I’m a dancer,” Doug replied.
“Mmmkay,” Gigi replied with one brow arched high.
“A dancer dances,” Doug explained with a small leap that looked more like the move one makes when trying to discreetly pull ones underwear from one’s ass without using hands.
Mother Nature considered Doug for a few long moments as Doug continued to butcher the art of movement. Her eyes lit up and my stomach clenched in fear.
“Doug darling, do you pole dance?” she inquired casually.
“Why yes I do,” he trilled as he sashayed over to my grandmother and landed in a fucked up version of what I think was supposed to be the splits. “Do you, m’lady?”
“I do,” she said coyly, batting her lashes at the gay Demon who was now besotted with her. “What say you we go back to Nirvana and practice a little routine for the wedding reception after I’m done here.”
“I say YES!” Doug shouted, and then grunted in pain as he heaved himself out of the splits.
“Wonderful,” Mother Nature said, as she placed the eighth and final gorgeous cake on the long granite countertop in the massive state of the art kitchen that was rarely used. Since all the inhabitants in the compound didn’t actually eat food, the kitchen was more for show than use. “Doug, Astrid only drinks blood would you be a dear and taste my confections?”
“I would be delighted O Beautiful One,” Doug squealed.
He was so excited he produced a boom box out of mid-air and cranked YMCA up so loud I was sure we’d all ruptured an eardrum. Doug did a rather repulsive bump and grind on his way over to the cakes much to the rabid joy of Mother Nature who was applauding wildly—which of course caused a smallish earth quake and several trees to explode out of the pitted cherry hardwood floors.
Fuck. I dropped my chin to my chest and thought very seriously about transporting myself to Siberia. The clusterfuck that was about to ensue when Doug puked up my grandmother’s cake was going to be ugly.
“Meeeeeee taste toooooo,” Charles volunteered before I could quietly warn him away.
“This is delightful,” Gigi sang as she blew both Charles and Doug kisses and produced a cake knife from her Coach bag to slice her desserts.
Oh. My. Uncle. God.
Please don’t let the cakes cause a head spinning episode with Charles. If Mother Nature gets turned into a pile of shit with a face, the world as we know it, will end. I gripped the table and waited for all Hell to break loose.
And then it did…
“What’s going on in here?” Mary-Scary-Larry-Harry demanded in a shrill voice from the entryway looking as if she hadn’t slept much. Trista, Spike and Francisco were right behind her.
Scary-Mary marched over to the blaring boom box and punched it so hard it cracked in two. Fat Demon Doug didn’t seem to notice as he went on dancing as if there was no tomorrow—which sadly might be the case in a few minutes.
“And who are you?” Mother Nature hissed as a fragrant wind blew up and swept through the room like a mini tornado.