Your Broom or Mine?: Magic and Mayhem Book Eight Page 4

  “I like you,” Fabio said, giving me a lopsided grin and a nod of approval.

  “Right?” Zelda said. “Willow’s perfect. Unlike the hot sloppy locked in the bathroom at the moment.”

  Fabio anxiously glanced over at the stairs. “Speaking of… hurry up, pooplet. We don’t have much time.”

  “You guys are awesome,” I said with a laugh.

  Zelda nodded and smiled. “I certainly think so. But back to the horrifying history lesson, after the hit and run incident, I got incarcerated for mowing down my familiar—who wasn’t actually dead, obviously—among other things that we won’t go into.”

  “She got jailed for using magic for self-serving purposes,” Fabio chimed in unhelpfully as far as Zelda was concerned.

  “Oh my Goddess,” Zelda griped at her father. “All the details are not important, stink bomb.”

  “My bad, BM,” he replied.

  “I should say so, caca,” she snapped at her dad.

  “Diaper fillers,” I interjected. “Finish the story.”

  “Ohhh, I like that one,” Zelda said with a thumbs up.

  “You’re welcome,” I told her.

  “Okay, after I got sprung from the pokey in Salem where I was roommates with Sassy, I was given a mission in Assjacket. My dead cat was in the car on the drive down.”

  “Wasn’t dead anymore,” Fabio pointed out. “You know, nine lives and all that stuff.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Keep talking.”

  Zelda paced the room and continued. “Right. I got here. Hated it, but secretly loved it. Became the Shifter Wanker. Banged the King of the Shifters, fell in love and got knocked up.”

  “There’s more,” Fabio said. “As I was dying after Zelda smacked down on some bad guys, she told me she loved me and I reverted back to myself.”

  “And he was naked,” Zelda said with an enormous gag. “Never ever look at your pappy’s pecker. I’ve been in therapy for years.”

  “My parents are gone,” I said. It didn’t hurt like an open wound anymore, but it still made me sad to say it.

  “I’m so sorry,” Fabio said softly.

  “They were wonderful, and I’ll always miss them,” I told him. “But it was a very long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zelda said, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to me.

  I smiled. “Me too. I actually followed most of your story, but I still don’t understand where Zach fits in or why Fabio was hiding behind the curtains.”

  “You’re aware that my egg donor sold Zach as a baby to the ass-pipe who tried to kill you guys, right? And that Zach and I are twins?” she asked.

  “I am,” I said, looking down at the sleeping boy in my arms and wondering how any mother could sell her child. I was sure Zach looked very much like Henry as a baby. His wild dark red curls were so sweet.

  “I didn’t know about Zach, and Fabio didn’t know about either of us. Zach’s and my childhoods were bad,” Zelda said, giving her father a look that conveyed she didn’t blame him. “Problem we’re having now is that Zach wants nothing to do with Fabdudio.”

  “Why?” I asked. I’d give anything to have my parents back in my life.

  Zelda took a long pause and then sighed. “To love other people, you have to love yourself first.”

  I was stunned to silence for a moment. My heart tore a little for Zach. “That is seriously profound,” I said.

  “Got it from my porno loving rabbit Shifter therapist. Most of the time, I want to headbutt Roger, but the nose twitching little number-two is right fairly often. However, I will deny saying that for eternity.”

  “His name is Roger the rabbit?” I asked with a grin.

  “Yep,” Zelda said, gently taking Henry from my arms. “You’re gonna love him. You might even want to do a few sessions with him. The little shart has helped me tremendously.”

  “You mean tree-mendously,” I corrected her with a small laugh then let my chin drop to my chest. “But I really can’t stay Zelda. I have to leaf, I mean leave.”

  “And go where?” Fabio demanded, alarmed.

  “To find my hairy magical beans,” I replied with a sad smile. “I lost them somewhere along my life journey.”

  “Will you give us a week before you search for your tes-tree-cles?” Fabio begged with a sweet smile.

  “You speak Puntreelish?” I asked with a laugh.

  “A little,” he said. “I’d love to learn some more. Will you please stay a week?”

  “You haven’t had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the bread in the middle yet,” Zelda pointed out.

  “And you must see Zorro in his show,” Fabio added.

  “His show?” I asked, confused.

  “He’s starring in the Assjacket Community Theatre production of Zorro, the Gay Blade—the Musical,” Zelda informed me with a groan.

  “Actually,” Fabio chimed in. “They changed the show.”

  “Why?” Zelda asked. “Zorro was thrilled with his part. That’s why he bought the pink leather assless chaps.”

  Fabio rocked a sleeping Audrey in his arms and shook his head. “Apparently, a famous director with an entourage of height impaired ladies has all of a sudden shown up in town. She’s insisted on changing the show to Jaws—The Musical.”

  “You’re shitting me. Jaws as a musical?” I asked and then slapped my hand over my mouth, hoping neither toddler woke up and repeated me.

  “No, I'm not bowel movement-ing you,” Fabio said.

  “Wait. Who was supposed to direct?” Zelda asked, confused.

  “Bob and the cast were going experimental and letting the play direct itself this time,” Fabio said with a chuckle. “Maybe it’s good this director showed up. I can’t even imagine what a musical version of Jaws will turn out like, though.” He shook his head. “Zorro is playing the shark in pink leather assless chaps. Poor Bob the beaver is trying to write the new script, but from what I hear, it’s not going well. He’s pulled more than half of his unibrow out.”

  “That had to hurt,” I said with a wince, mulling all the information over. “Wait, is Bob the magical berry tooter?”

  “Yep,” Zelda said. “If you spot him with a bowl of berries, steer clear. However, Bob’s butt bombs are nothing compared to how Zorro must be feeling.”

  My body tensed. “What do you mean?”

  “Zorro has to be devastated about the show change,” Zelda said. “Breaks my heart.”

  Crap. It was not okay for Zorro to be devastated.

  “I’ll stay… for a week,” I said. The words came out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I would stand by them. If Zorro needed me, I would be here to comfort him.

  Zelda and Fabio exchanged a glance of enormous relief. They were up to something, but at this point, I assumed they were always up to something. My concern was Zorro…and if I was being honest, Zach as well.

  Zorro, my beautiful best friend, had been through hell in his life, too. Being a gay goat Shifter who’d been excommunicated from his pack, because goats were homophobic assholes, was painful enough. I’d stay until Jaws was over and cheer my most loyal friend on.

  Of course, I would definitely see Zach, also, but that was secretly thrilling.

  And then I would go off to find my balls.

  “Welcome to Assjacket.” Fabio gently laid a sleeping Audrey down on the couch then wrapped his arms around me.

  The hug was lovely. It made me miss my own father. Maybe, I could help Zach accept Fabio. It would be a perfect parting gift to the man I secretly loved.

  “Get your hands off of her,” Zach bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “Never touch her again. Willow is not available.”

  “Dude, Fabio is not hitting on Willow,” Zelda hissed at her brother. “He’s banging the fashion impaired leader of the witches much to my great horror and barley concealed secret delight. Plus, this is my house, and you are not the boss of it.”

  Zach’s eyes blazed green and his fury wa
s palpable. The air was thick with magic. Bright green sparks popped all around him, and the house rumbled on its foundation.

  Fabio quickly backed away from me with an expression of great sadness on his handsome face.

  “Zach, that wasn’t nice,” I barked, eyeing him with shock. My instinct was to comfort him, but that wasn’t our relationship. Never had been and never would be.

  “Do I look like I care?” he demanded.

  “No, you don’t,” I said sadly. “And that’s your loss.”

  “Willow,” he said, approaching me warily with a look of longing in his eyes that confused me. “You have no clue what is going on. Please stay out of it.”

  “With pleasure,” I said, backing away, wildly unsure what had come over Zach. “I’m only staying for a week to see Zorro in his play.”

  Zach looked crushed. “Is that the only reason?”

  Misconstruing Zach’s expression could end in massive public humiliation—specifically mine. Crossing my fingers and tucking my hands into the pockets of my dress, I nodded and lied. “Zorro is the only reason I’m staying for a week.”

  “Guurrlfriend!” Zorro squealed with joy as he came barreling down the stairs with the pine-scented cats on his heels. My beautiful BFF was in one solid piece and as handsome as ever. His vertical pupils set in bright blue eyes could be off-putting, but I found them exotic and cool—he was a fainting goat Shifter after all. Zorro’s sandy blond hair fell over one eye, styled expertly. He grabbed me and swung me around like a doll. “You’re alive! Best day ever.”

  Holding tightly to my best friend, I was torn between laughter and tears. Zorro had missed the showdown between Zach and Fabio. Maybe that was a good thing. He and Zach were also very tight.

  “Best day ever,” I whispered as he stopped spinning me and hugged me close.

  It was and it wasn’t. But Zorro was alive. Zach was alive. And I was alive. It was good enough for now.

  “Will you come to my rehearsal?” Zorro asked.

  I glanced over at Zach who stared right back at me. I was tempted to yank him up by his boxer briefs and tell him he was being an idiot about his family. Instead, I turned back to Zorro.

  “I’d love to go to rehearsal with you.” I winced at his pink leather assless chaps. “Are you wearing those pants?”

  “Absolutely, guurrlfriend!” He wiggled his butt at me. “Helps me get into character.”

  “As the shark?” I asked with a giggle.

  “I will be a shark like no other,” Zorro promised with a wink as he walked me out to the front porch.

  Understatement of the century.

  Looking over his shoulder to make sure we were alone, Zorro pressed his forehead to mine and sighed. “I didn’t know if you would make it.”

  “I made it,” I said, swiping at a tear. “We all did.”

  Zorro inspected me from head to toe, then nodded in satisfaction. “Guurrlfriend, I prayed to the Goddess so hard while you were in the tree, she must be sick of me.” He laughed and shook his head. “Zach was a straight-up hot mess. Had to force-feed him for a few weeks.”

  Zorro had always been the caretaker. While Henrietta Smith had mostly gone after Zach’s blood, Zorro had taken the brunt of her voracious hunger when Zach was near death. Both men had tried to protect me from the abomination, but I’d taken my share of hits to relieve the horrific burden on the two men who meant the world to me. The fact that we were alive and Zach was free of the curse stole my breath.

  “Everything is going to be alright now,” Zorro said with a wide grin.

  I nodded and smiled. I’d tell him later that I wasn’t staying. Right now, I was living in the moment.

  And the moment was as lovely as the smile on Zorro’s sweet face.

  Chapter Five

  According to the sign in the lobby, the community center was used for the Assjacket Community Theatre, the Assjacket Cloggers, the Assjacket Hot Yoga Club, the Assjacket Knitting Circle, the Assjacket Book Club, the Assjacket Curling Society, and the Assjacket Assjackians. I was curious about what the Assjacket Assjackians did, but realized some things were better left up to the imagination.

  “Is this a joke?” I whispered to Sassy as we sat in the back row of the cavernous room and watched the shitshow unfold on the built-in stage.

  I’d successfully avoided Zach like the plague and slipped out of the house with Zorro. I was still mad and sad that Zach had been such a wanker to his father even though my entire body tingled when he was near. The time would come for us to talk, but now I was here for Zorro.

  Bob the beaver—with a sad and sparse looking unibrow—ran around the large room with a sheaf of paper in his hands, talking to himself a mile a minute. Roger the rabbit sat at the piano and plunked out tune after tune about how it felt to get eaten by a shark in graphic detail. Zorro stood off to the left of the piano, looking like he was in the ninth level of hell as a few other Assjackians zipped around looking terrified and lost.

  “Nope,” Sassy said. “It’s a catastro-tree. That’s French for huge fucking mess.”

  I giggled. “Actually, it was Puntreelish.”

  “Shut the front door,” Sassy said with wide eyes and a wider smile. “I’m speaking a new language?”

  “You are,” I told her. “It the language of the dryads and the trees.”

  “You know,” she said, lowering her voice and putting her stiletto clad feet up on the row of chairs in front of us. “Sometimes, my excrement knowledge of language makes me feel like I’m almost smart. I mean, I know I’m not, but it’s good to aspirate to greatness. I’ve tried for months to learn Canadian, and I can’t understand a dang word of it.”

  “Sassy,” I said, taking her hand and trying not to laugh. “You’re very smart in lots of different ways. From what I hear, you’re a wonderful mom to your adopted chipmunk Shifter sons and you can ride a broom like a professional.”

  “I love riding my broom! Works best commando—that’s German for no panties. Did you know that?” she inquired with a naughty grin.

  “Nope, but I do now,” I said with a laugh. “Are you in the show?”

  “I was,” she said, looking forlorn. “I’m not sure if I am anymore since they changed it to Jaws. Last year I starred in the musical version of Mommie Dearest. I was Christina, and I was amazeballs. I killed the number No More Wire Hangers.”

  I nodded because I wasn’t sure how to react to that one.

  “Where’s the famous director?” I asked, glancing around.

  “She’s late and not fashionably. She showed up out of nowhere yesterday with her little troll-y looking entourage and changed the show,” Sassy said with an eye roll. “I don’t see the big deal. She’s about two feet tall and mean as a snake.”

  “What is she?” I asked.

  “A bitch,” Sassy replied. “That’s Swedish for heinous cow sphincter.”

  “Right,” I said. “But is she a witch? Or a Shifter? Or something else?”

  “Shifter… I think,” Sassy said. “No one knows for sure what she or her nasty lady barnacles are, which is odd, but they’re hideous—they wear black socks with sandals—all of them.”

  “You lie,” I gasped out.

  “Witch’s honor,” Sassy said with a shudder. “I screamed in horror when I saw them, but since I want a part, I pretended my nail polish was chipped.”

  “Excellent move,” I said. Black socks and sandals were a fashion crime that warranted imprisonment.

  I was now curious to see the cow patty and her cronies who had caused all this distress.

  “Hey, am I late?” Zach asked as he breezed in and sat down next to Sassy.

  “Late for what?” I asked, squinting at him in surprise. “Are you in the show?”

  “Nope,” he said, giving me a grin that made me a little breathless. “Thought I’d support Zorro.”

  Sassy’s head went back and forth during the exchange. Her grin grew wide and she nudged me with her elbow. “He likes you,” she whispered
loudly.

  “As a friend,” I muttered as I felt Zach’s intense stare. “We’re old friends.”

  “Riiiight,” Sassy said with a giggle. “You want me to talk to him for you? I’ll be excrete.”

  “You mean discreet?” I asked as Zach listened to the exchange with interest.

  “No,” she said, shaking her blond curls. “Excrete is British for discreet. I was being fancy. British is a tricky language, but I’ve aced it. All you have to do to understand it is drink tea. I fucking hate tea, but I’m very dedicated to my world language quest. But back to the important stuff, I can send him a note with boxes on it. If he marks the yes box, it means he likes you. If he marks the no box, he’s a dumbass. If he marks the hermaphrodite box, you should date someone else.”

  “Sassy, he’s sitting right next to you,” I pointed out, wanting to disappear.

  She rolled her eyes. “Guys are idiots. He has no clue we’re even talking about him. No worries. I have your back.”

  Zach bit down on his kissable bottom lip so he didn’t laugh. I was mortified. Smacking both of them right now seemed like an excellent plan.

  “She’s coming! They’re all coming!” Bob shrieked, pulling out what was left of his unibrow. “Everyone, sit down in the house. Cast stay on the stage. She read the first draft of the script last night and will give us her notes and brilliant words of wisdom.”

  All smackdowns would have to wait. The famous director and her troll-y entourage of mini-mes arrived. A strange dark pall came over the room as they entered. My gut clenched for a second and I tried to place the feeling.

  Sassy and Zach didn’t seem to notice.

  Maybe I imagined it. I’d been in a tree for a month and was still a little fuzzy. However, there was no mistaking that the vibe in the room had changed and taken a turn towards the weird.

  The famous director, Mae Blockinschlokinberg, stood no more than four feet and was as wide as she was tall. She wore a frock that looked like a muumuu made from chartreuse sweatpant material, and her black socks and beige sandals were shocking.

  Zorro was hyperventilating and had grabbed onto the piano so he didn’t pass out. Danger and horrific fashion choices were two things that made my fainting goat Shifter buddy lose consciousness. Mae Blockinschlokinberg’s black socks and sandals were clearly too much for Zorro to handle.