A Witch In Time: Magic and Mayhem Book Three (8 page)

Damn it, it had to be. I wanted to get laid in a tree house.

“When is the first rehearsal?” I heard myself ask aloud.

Roger checked his watch and grinned. “In about fifteen minutes. Are you positive about this?”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

***

The Community Center was filled with Shifters who were so excited it made me queasy. My dad stood next to me, beaming like an idiot and accepting congratulations on his directorship like he’d just become the President of the Universe. I wavered between feeling good and nauseous—good because my dad was clearly overjoyed and nauseous because I was here at all. I was certain I’d made a very bad decision as I didn’t even know what the hell the play was, but I was stuck now.

Even the grumpy members of the Town Council seemed happy with Fabio. It was most likely because he’d promised to foot the bill of the unknown theatrical nightmare with his ill-gotten fortune. It was win-win as far as everyone was concerned—everyone except me.

Bob the beaver Shifter stepped up onto the stage of the Center and clapped his small hands. My fingers itched to pluck his uni-brow that started just above his nose. I’d have to save that activity for another day. Bob probably wouldn’t appreciate me sitting on him and removing an obscene amount of hair from his forehead in front of spectators.

Glancing around the now quiet room, my earlier confidence disappeared. All of my friends were here. Crap. I was going to have to perform in front of them during the rehearsal process. For some stupid reason, I’d had it in my head that it would be a one person show… maybe two. There had to be at least thirty Shifters packed into the room. Thankfully, Mac wasn’t one of them. That would be a relationship killer for sure.

“I am excited so many of you showed up after the little mishap that happened last time we did a show. Your confidence humbles me,” Bob told the group.

“Little mishap? People getting stabbed and eaten was a
little mishap
?” I mumbled under my breath only to be elbowed by my father.

Kurt the raccoon Shifter, Wanda’s mate, politely raised his hand and waited to be called on.

“Kurt, you have a question?” Bob asked.

“Yes. Will there be violence or weapons in this show?” he asked with a small shudder.

“Um… no, not really,” Bob volunteered.

“And what does
not really
mean?” my buddy Simon the skunk inquired with narrowed eyes. “I refuse to take part in anything with bloodshed, anyone losing an appendage or Goddess forbid, actually dying.”

“That’s a reasonable concern,” Bob agreed somewhat nervously. “However, I am happy to announce the only weapons used in this year’s production will be wire hangers.”

A murmur of relief washed over the crowd, but I was fucking confused. Wire hangers? What kind of musical was this?

“What’s the play?” I whispered to my Dad who seemed as confused as I was.

“No clue.” He shrugged and pursed his lips.

“You agreed to direct and fund a play not knowing what the hell it was?” I demanded as quietly as I was capable of.

“You agreed to star in it with the same lack of information,” he shot back.

“Point,” I replied in fear for my life. “Can I get out of it?”

“Baby, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

He was sincere which made me feel like a slug. He wouldn’t make me do this. I knew my dad would still love me even if I went running out of the door without looking back. And for that very reason I stayed. I’d have to discuss this one with Roger. It simply had to be love. If I didn’t love my dad, why in the Goddess’s name was I still here?

“I want to do it,” I lied with what I hoped passed as a smile.

“No, you don’t,” he replied back with a chuckle.

“Fine,” I muttered, totally busted. “I’d rather chew glass and swallow it, but I want to be with you.”

Fabio’s smile went straight to my heart and melted the hard shell just a bit. His eyes sparkled and he trapped me in a bear hug that I wanted to stay in for a very long time. However, his show of affection blocked out Bob’s droning and I missed the announcement of the title of the show.

The applause was loud and the laughter was hearty. How bad could it be if everyone was so happy? Maybe it was
Grease.
I loved
Grease
. I would be an awesome Sandy or Rizzo. Actually I would suck as Sandy or Rizzo, but I did love the show. Maybe they would let me be the Principal. That was a small part and I don’t recall her having to sing or dance.

“Sweet Goddess,” Fabio shrieked so loudly I clapped my hands over my ears. “The costumes will be positively fabulous. Zelda, you will look like a million dollars!”

I grinned weakly and prayed he was exaggerating the cost, but one never knew with my dad.

“All right people,” Bob shouted above the din. “Fabio will be directing, Simon will be musical directing and I will be choreographing along with having written the script. There are scripts and music available for everyone on the table in the back of the room. DeeDee will check them out to you. Not a word can be breathed about our production. The dumb-ass Shifters in the surrounding towns will try to steal our idea and beat us to the punch—especially the nosy chipmunk Shifters. We are gonna have a comeback with this baby and rule the you-know-what out of all the thespians in West Virginia!”

“Did you say the chipmunks are lesbians?” Jeeves asked perplexed.

“Um, no,” Bob said. “As far as I know they’re straight. I said thespians.”

“Thank you. Just clarifying,” Jeeves said.

“No worries. Are we ready to do a show?” Bob yelled gleefully.

The roar of the crowd was deafening and I still had no clue what the play was. How was this happening? And if I wasn’t mistaken, Bob said he was choreographing. That didn’t bode well at all.

“Are we starting tonight?” Sassy shouted from the crowd.

Oh my hell, of course she was here. I couldn’t catch a break from her if it bit me in the ass. I wasn’t strong enough to tell her she had carte blanche in my closet yet. That nugget would have to wait until tomorrow. This was enough for one evening.

“Yes!” Bob shouted back enthusiastically. “We’ll start with the big production number,
No More Wire Hangers
. Everyone is in it!”

“Will there be sparkly costumes for this one?” a nice opossum Shifter named Annie called out.

“Tons of sequins,” Fabio assured the happy group. “And probably marabou and go-go shorts.”

“Awesome,” Sassy squealed as she laid a big one on Jeeves who was clearly happy to be part of the debacle.

Of course I was still stuck on the fact that there was a number called
No More Wire Hangers
. Why did that sound vaguely familiar?

Oh shit. No, no, no, no, no, no.

This was not happening.

“All right Mommie Dearest,” Bob yelled gleefully as he pointed at me with a huge grin that made his uni-brow drop even lower. “Get up on this stage and put yourself front and center! We’re gonna swing some hangers.”

No fucking way.

My body was rooted to the floor. Was everyone here smoking crack? Who in their right mind would think a musical of
Mommie Dearest
was a good plan? I suppose people that had participated in song and dance versions of
Silence of the Lambs
and
Friday the 13
^th
were overjoyed to do anything that didn’t include murder or fava beans, but…

On top of everything, the irony that I was about to play a mother from hell was not lost on me. At least I had
that
part of it covered.

Was I really going to do this?

Fabio was looking at me with such pride I almost cringed. I was certain he was mentally cataloguing my costumes in his head. His genuine elation was the only thing that made my heavy feet move. I wasn’t going to disappoint him. I’d been through so much disappointment in my life I refused to add any to his. If this wasn’t love, I had no clue what was…

I could do this for my dad.

I had to do this for my dad.

Shit. I was never going to live through this.

I silently wondered as I took my place on the stage if my monster-ass therapy schedule was going to go as badly as my decision to do the play. I knew opening my closet to Sassy the Booby One was going to land me in a straight jacket. The only thing that kept me going was the damn tree house.

However, I was beginning to wonder if sex in a tree house with Mac was worth the cost.

I pressed the bridge of my nose and inhaled deeply as Bob shoved a wire hanger into each of my hands. For a brief moment I considered strangling him with them, but I knew I would have to heal the little bastard.

New leaf, new leaf, new leaf. I was turning over a new leaf and if I couldn’t hack it, I knew I could always run. I was good at that. I’d been leaving places my whole life. The only problem was I didn’t want to leave this place. Assjacket, West Virginia was different. I was different.

I had made my plan of action and I was going to stick to it even if it destroyed me.

I observed Bob do something akin to a combination of square dancing
slash
twerking and I groaned aloud. This was going to be a long and painful rehearsal period.

Very, very, very long… and painful.

CHAPTER 8

“You say chipmunks are lesbians?” Fat Bastard asked as he searched the refrigerator for something that struck his fancy.

“What the hell?” I groused and slammed the fridge shut, narrowly missing his big, fat, square, furry head. “I said
thespians
. You have a very unhealthy obsession with lesbians.”

“Pretty sure if we stopped using the term thespian altogether, there would be a far better chance of the Bastard not getting the crap beat out of him,” Jango suggested as he wolfed down the last of the cookies from the jar.

If the cat hadn’t offered up such outstanding advice I would have tackled him for inhaling the last cookie. However, he’d scored points. I hated the word thespian anyway.

“Outstanding idea,” I said backing out of the kitchen just in case Jango went for the cheesecake. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from maiming him if he took the last bite.

I’d ordered six of Wanda’s cheesecakes from the Assjacket Diner and we were down to only one. It was a draw between me and the cats as to who could eat more. Embarrassingly, I was winning.

“Anyhoo, rehearsal last night sucked,” I said as they followed me to the den. “There’s an awful dance number where we basically twerk with hangers.”

“That sounds kinda hot,” Boba said with a shrug and a kitty paw thumbs up. “You nekkid in it?”

“I don’t know why I even try to talk to you idiots,” I muttered wearily. “And no we’re not naked, we’re wearing go-go shorts and sequins. But the best part—and I say
best
with utter and unmistakable disgust—is me tearing around the stage screaming, ‘
No more wire hangers
,’ while the cast twerks in terror.”

Finally I’d rendered them mute. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t snicker. They didn’t go for their balls. The cats simply stared in shock.

Damn. That didn’t bode well. If my obese, profane, tasteless, whacked-out cats thought it was bad… It was really bad.

“You want me to kill the hairy beaver?” Fat Bastard asked. “I’ll make it look like the untalented little son-of-a-bitch tripped because his brows messed with his vision.

Horrifically, I considered the offer for a moment. After I digested the fact that my cat suggested killing Bob while using the term hairy beaver, I quickly came to my senses.

“That’s extremely nice of you, but no. We’re not killing anyone because they’re talent free. If we were, I’d be the first on the hit list.”

“I call bullshit on that,” Boba protested loudly. “You’re a fuckin’ star. I hear you sing in the shower. It cracked the glass on the fubashianass mirror.”

“Okay, wait. Stop. What the hell does fubashianass mean?” I asked, blindly ignoring the fact that my appalling singing had cracked a mirror.

“He don’t know,” Jango snorted. “He makes up shit and tries to see what catches on. One place we was in, all the kids picked up on crapbasketasser. Them teenagers painted it on walls all over town.”

“How’d that go over?” I asked, wondering if they’d been dropped on their heads as kittens.

“Got run out of that municipality with pitchforks,” Fat Bastard informed me proudly.

The other two gave each other high fives and laughed like loons.

They’d definitely been dropped…

“Alrighty then, you brainiacs have to leave. Mac’s coming over for lunch.”

“No worries, Sweet Cheeks. We’re gonna take some yogi with your dad,” Jango said as he stretched and waddled toward the front door.