literal leigh 05 - joyful leigh (13 page)

“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 Bastard 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 lowered 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?”

“No, those were real tears,” Lindsey reaffirmed her position.

“Then just spill it, Leigh. And we wanted to be here early to hang out and give you a hand,” Gertie added.

I decided to just make something up. Maybe then they’d finally drop it. “Okay, fine. It’s silly, really. I was just thinking of the poor turkeys that lost their lives in the traffic on Halstead. It was so sad. They were almost free! Rest in pieces, poor feathered friends.”

Gertie let out a bawling noise and the tears cascaded down her face. “Oh, I know. I know. It’s my fault. Well, technically it was Randy’s fault for stopping the van.” She caught her breath. “I just remember they were on death row anyway. Those few minutes of fluttering freedom were worth it, even if they were being torn into by speeding minivans and those godforsaken SUVs.” After a minute of silence for the fallen birds, Gertie was suddenly the cheerful soul we all knew and loved. It was like somebody flipped a switch in her brain. “Oh! I hear people! Your guests are arriving.”

“Ugh. Why does it have to be so early? There’s nothing that exciting going on yet. Is there some sort of unwritten holiday code that says we all have to be up at the ass crack of dawn?”

Marie Laveau strutted into the kitchen, slowly, as if she were making a grand stage entrance. “Happy Thanksgiving, my lovely witches.”

“Good morning, Marie,” I mumbled over my cup full of hot tea. “Coffee or tea? Cream and sugar?”

“Coffee. I prefer it like I prefer my men—strong, black, and naked.” She looked around the newly remodeled kitchen. “You certainly have turned this old shack around.”

“Thank you. The whole house needs a lot of work yet.” I handed a cup of coffee to Marie. Esmeralda and Kelly came into the kitchen and joined us. My big kitchen was suddenly feeling crowded.

“Thank you.” Marie took a sip of coffee and then gave me a serious look. “Have you had any more problems with the previous residents?”

“No. I was going to ask you about that. We haven’t seen or heard from Philomena Schlitt or her cat, Little. Not since Halloween. Do you think they’ve left?”

Marie closed her eyes as if she were trying to sense the presence of ghosts. “Hmm. I doubt it. I think they are here, but as long as you don’t do anything—”

“Stupid?” Esmeralda interjected.

“I was going to use the word
inconsiderate
, but yes. Why not just say it? As long as you don’t do anything
stupid
, they have no reason to bother you.” Marie took my hand and gazed at my ring. “Now that is a diamond.”

“My guess is that she found a good spell to put on that man,” Esmeralda scoffed.

“Oh, she did put a spell on him. That’s for certain. But it’s the kind of spell any woman can cast. It doesn’t take a witch for that sort of magic and it’s as old as time itself.” Marie smiled and winked at me.

Esmeralda commented on our new rug, “Oh and by the way, your rug is both frightening and shocking. Love it.” She no sooner said that and I heard my mother’s scream.

“Full house! Good morning everyone. Just grabbing a cup of coffee. Oh and that scream you heard was your mom, Leigh. She saw the new rug.” Hunter jostled between witches, kissed me on the cheek, and got his coffee.

Surprisingly, Marie took his arm. “You wouldn’t mind showing me your house. Would you?”

“It’s my pleasure, Marie.” I smiled at the two of them slowly walking away and then I remembered that I needed to talk to Marie about my dream of Sybil and Cosmos. If it meant anything, she would know. They were barely out of the kitchen when Max walked in.

“Good morning! Millie will be along in a few minutes, Leigh. I brought along some extra chairs and the folding table you asked about. Could I get some volunteers to give me a hand?” Max asked.

Suddenly my kitchen was quiet and I was thankful. It was quiet at least until Millie came in with a fully grown tom turkey, and she wasn’t carrying it. The turkey was alive and walking behind her. Millie held a long string that led back to the turkey. It was the most unexpected thing to see Millie walking a turkey into my kitchen on a damn leash.
A turkey. On a fucking leash.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Leigh! As you can see, I brought the turkey!”

Images of Millie bludgeoning the poor animal with a blunt instrument and butchering it in my kitchen flashed in my mind. Questions did, too, I just didn’t want to say them out loud.
Is this the ultimate in fresh, organic turkey? Where’s that prepackaged turkey with the little thing that pops out when it’s done cooking? Is this what they mean when people talk about the sustainability movement?
I really didn’t know what Millie had in mind. I’ve learned that Hunter’s parents tend to embrace those things that the rest of society squints at, shakes its collective head, and scoffs in harmony, “that’s just fucking nuts.”