L. Banks - My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

I am a trained investigator. Instincts honed by years of observation warned me that Billy might be angry. "Great hostility I sense in you," I said in a Muppety voice.

Billy's glower continued for a few more steady seconds, and then it broke. He shook his head and looked away. "I'm sorry. For my tone."

Yanof jabbed me again, but I ignored it. "You didn't sleep last night."

He shook his head again. "No excuse. But between the fight and Kirby and . . ." He waved a vague hand. "Today. I mean, today."

"Ah," I said. "Cold feet?"

Billy took a deep breath. "Well. It's a big step, isn't it." He shook his head. "And after next year, most of the Alphas are going to be done with school. Getting jobs." He paused. "Splitting up."

"And that's where you met Georgia," I said.

"Yeah." He shook his head. "What if we don't have anything else in common? I mean, good grief. Have you seen her family's place? And I'm going to be in debt for seven or eight years just paying off the student loans. How do you know if you're ready to get married?"

Yanof stood up, gestured at my pants, and said something that sounded like, "Hahklha ah lafala krepata khem."

"I'm not seeing people right now," I told him, as I took off the pants and passed them over. "Or else you'd have a shot, you charmer."

Yanof sniffed, muttered something else, and toddled back into the shop.

"Billy," I said. "You think Georgia would have Fought that thing last night?"

"Yes," he said, without a second's hesitation.

"She going to be upset that you did it?"

"No."

"Even though some folks got hurt?"

He blinked at me. "No."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because . . ." He shook his head. "Because she won't. I know her. Upset by the injuries, yes, but not by the fight." He shifted to a tone that he probably didn't realize was an imitation of Georgia's voice. "People get hurt in fights. That's why they're called fights."

"You know her well enough to answer serious questions for her when she isn't even in the room, man," I said quietly. "You're ready. Keep the big picture in mind. You and her."

He looked at me for a second and then said, "I thought you'd say something about love."

I sighed. "Billy. You knob. If you didn't love her, you wouldn't be stressed about losing what you have with her, would you."

"Good point," he said.

"Remember the important thing. You and her."

He took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah," he said. "Georgia and me. The rest doesn't matter."

I was going to mumble something vaguely supportive when the door to the Fitting room opened and an absolutely ravishing raven-haired woman in an expensive lavender silk skirt-suit came into the Fitting room. She might have been my age, and had a lot of gold and diamonds, a lot of perfect white teeth, and the kind of curves that only come from surgery. Her shoes and purse together probably cost more than my car.

"Well," she snapped, and put a fist on her hip, glaring first at Billy and then at me. "I see you are already doing your best to disrupt the ceremony."

"Eve," Billy said in a kind of stilted, formally polite voice. "Um. What are you talking about?"

"For one thing, this," she said, and flicked a hand at me. Then gave me a second, more evaluative look.

I tried to look casual and confident, there in my Spider-Man T-shirt and black briefs. I managed to keep myself from diving toward my jeans. I turned aside to put them on, maintaining my dignity.

"Your underwear has a hole," Eve said sweetly.

I jerked my jeans on, blushing. Stupid dignity.

"Bad enough that you insist on this. . . petty criminal taking part in a ceremony before polite society. Yanof is beside himself," Eve continued, speaking to Billy. "He threatened to quit."

"Wow," I said. "You speak Sloboviakstanese?"

She blinked at me. "What?"

"Because Yanof doesn't speak any English. So how did you know he threatened to quit?" I smiled sweetly at her.

Eve gave me a glare of haughty anger and defended herself by pretending I hadn't said anything. "And now we're going to have to leave out one of the bridesmaids. To say nothing of the fact that with him standing up there on one side of you and Georgia on the other, you're going to look like a midget. The photographer will have to be notified and I have no idea how we'll manage to re­arrange everything at the last moment."

I swore I could hear Billy's teeth grind. "Harry," he said, in that same polite, strained voice. "This is Eve McAlister. My stepmother-in-law."

"I do not care for that term, as I have told you often. I am your mother-in-law," she said. "Or will be, whenever this ongoing disas­ter you've created from a respectable wedding breathes its last."

"I'm sure we can work something out," Billy assured her, his tone hopeless.

"Georgia is late and is letting the voice mail answer her phone— as though I needed something else to occupy my thoughts." She shook her head. "I assume the lowlifes you introduced her to kept her out too late last night. Just like this one did to you."

"Hey, come on," I said, careful to keep my tone as reasonable and friendly as I could. "Billy's had a rough night. I'm sure he can help you out if you just give him a chance to-"

She made a disgusted sound and interrupted me. "Did I say or do something to imply that I cared to hear your opinion, charlatan? Lowlifes. I warned her about folk like you."

"You don't even know me, lady," I said.

"Yes, I do," she informed me. "I know all about you. I saw you on Larry Fowler."

I narrowed my eyes at Eve.

Billy's expression came close to panic, and he held up both hands palm out, giving me a pleading look. But my hangover ached, and life is too short to waste it taking verbal abuse from petty tyrants who watch bad talk shows.

"Okay, Billy's Stepmom," I began.

Her eyes flashed. "Do not call me that."

"You don't care to be called a stepmother?" I asked.

"Not at all."

"Though you obviously aren't Georgia's mother. Howsabout I call you trophy wife?" I suggested.

She blinked at me once, her eyes widening.

Billy put his face in his hands.

"Bed warmer?" I mused. "Mistress made good? Midlife-crisis by­product?" I shook my head. "When in doubt, go with the classics." I leaned a little closer and gave her a crocodilian smile. "Gold digger."

The blood drained out of Eve's face, leaving ugly pinkish blotches high on her cheeks. "Why, you . . . You . . ."

I waved my hand. "No, it's all right; I don't mind finding alternate terms. I understand that you're under pressure. Must be hard trying to look good in front of the old money when they all know that you were really just a receptionist or an actress or a model or something."

Her mouth dropped completely open.

"We're all having a tough day, dear." I flipped my hand at her. "Shoo."

She stared at me for a second, then let out a snarled curse you'd hardly expect from a lady of her station, spun on the heel of one Italian-leather pump, and stalked from the room. I heard a couple of beeps as she crossed to the shop's door, and then she started screech­ing into a cell phone. I could hear her for about ten seconds after she went outside.

Mission accomplished. Spleen vented. Dragon lady routed. I felt pleased with myself.

Billy heaved a sigh. "You had to talk to her like that?"

"Yeah." I glowered out after the departed Eve. "Once my mouth was open and my lips started moving, it was pretty much inevitable."

"Dammit, Harry," Billy sighed.

"Oh, come on, man. Sticks and stones may break her bones, but one wiseass will never hurt her. It's not a big deal."

"Not for you: You don't have to live with it. I do. So does Geor­gia."