War-N-Wit, Inc. – MeanStreet, LLC (8 page)

“Don’t worry,
Daddy’s on mine. It’s smaller.”

“
Yours?!
”

I laughed. “Spike’s living up to his end of the bargain, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am, he sure is.”

“
What
bargain?!”

“When he asked Stacy to marry him, she asked him if he’d teach her to ride her own bike, and if they could get married in the Drive-Thru,” I explained. “He said yes to all so she said yes, too. It was hysterical, actually.”

“You were
there
? At your sister’s
proposal?
And are
you
actually riding a motorcycle, too?”

“
It was kind of a family affair. Chad and I were both at the proposal. Mom, face it. You just ain’t got romantic daughters. Well, you do, it’s just—our idea of romance is a little different from most. And no, I don’t ride alone, don’t want to. I really prefer just riding bitch.”

“Riding
what?!
”

“Bitch. Two people on one motorcycle. Drop the act, Mom, it’s been called that for years. If Daddy rode, you had to know that.
I’d be pretty sure you’ve done it, even, ‘fess up.”

Mom sighed. A
why me
sigh.

“Anyway, Chad and Daddy are goin’ to entertain themselves today while Spike’s at work and us girls are out doin’ our thing.”

“What’re we doing? I thought there wasn’t anything to do for the wedding, not with that ridu—original wedding you’ve planned. The Drive-Thru thing.”

Stacy laughed. “Not that original. Ari did it. Lots of folks in Vegas do it. And no, nothing about the
wedding
. Well, except your outfit. We have to check on the party details.”

Mom perked up like a wilted flower in a spring shower. “Party? You’re having a reception? Like norm—like most brides? And I have my dress, dear. I’d already bought it for Ari’s wedding and since I never got to use it, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

The unspoken words hung in the air.
Since Ari changed absolutely everything including the groom
.

“
Well, yeah, it’s our version of a reception, anyway. And I need to stop by the clubhouse and check on some things.”

“
Of course! In his profession, Stuart almost has to be a member of a country club.” I could actually read all the unspoken words hanging in the air this morning. This time they were
thank God
.

Antsypants!
I projected out.
You’re goin’ to just let her keep thinking it’s a country club?

One thing none of us were—well, except Mom and by default Daddy because it was easier to humor Mom than cross her—was country club material.
Chad and Spike were bikers. The word
club
had only one meaning for them. And in Vegas that mean the Desert Troopers. The guys who’d saved our asses in Daytona last month.

Oh, Ari, c’mon! Let her have a few hours of maternal bliss thinking we’re kinda
sorta half-way normal! Don’t bust her bubble yet.

“So
first we’ll take care of your outfit and then we’ll swing by the club in case I need to pick up more decorations.” Stacy picked up Mom’s plate, scraped it into the trash, slapped it into the dishwasher and closed the door.

“I told you, dear. I have my dress for the wedding.”

Stacy smiled. “Not for this wedding, you don’t.”

* * *

Spike moved from one of his exam rooms to the other. His cell phone buzzed about 10:00 o’clock. Another emergency? Friends and family didn’t call him during morning hours. He pulled it out and glanced at the number. Chad. Strange.

“Hello?”

“Only got a minute, Bob’s in the men’s room. You comfortable with the girls goin’ out on the Strip alone tonight?”

Chad and Spike knew the seamier side of the Strip tourists never saw.

“No. Not happy about it a bit. You? And why’d you want to wait till Bob was in the men’s room to ask me?”

“Didn’t want him to hear why you’ll be a lot less happy when I tell you Ari and I got a call on the way to the airport.”

Spike groaned. “Not—”

“No, worse than that. Never told you about this, you’ve just now stopped running from the room screaming anytime anybody mentioned magic. But magic’s got some agencies of its own. Including one run by a guy named Gabriel. Smith, if you can believe it.”

“Not gonna like this, am I?
Cause no, I don’t really believe it.”

“There’s a magic act playing I’m advised is using some low-level magic. Not in a good way. Made the mistake of telling
G I hated magic acts, and Ari jumped on that with both feet. Said they’d check it out by themselves on their girls’ night out.”

“So it’s shadow time tonight?”

“Big time.”

“No
thing good on television anyway.”

Chapter Eleven

Stacy whipped the Beemer neatly into a parking space on Las Vegas Boulevard. It was still early in the day or she’d never have found one.

“Okay, ladies, let’s go shop!”

“Dear? Aren’t you in front of a—rather strange store?”

“Biker gear, Mom. Biker
apparel
.”

“But—we’re wedding shopping, right?”

“Mom. Do you seriously think I’m wearing a long white gown? On a motorcycle?”

“Which reminds me,” I said. “Are you riding your bike or you ridin’ bitch? To get married?”

“Bitch. It’s just more romantic somehow, don’t you think?”

Okay, we were laying it on a little thick but it was just so hard to resist. I glanced at Mom’s face. Culture shock in action. Maybe we should lighten up a bit.

“Well, I suppose romance is in the eye of the beholder,” Mom said gamely and got out of the car. “So if you’re not wearing white—”

“I’m wearing black. Leather. So is Ari. And so are you.”

“
Me?
”

“Yes ma’am. You.
And you’re getting’ a new hairstyle and new makeup, too.”

“Complete make-over!” I
clarified.

“
At my age?
”

“Mom!
Stop
tryin’
to look your age and just look like you look! You’re a size
eight
, for heaven’s sakes! If Ari and I weren’t both size six, we’d just put you in some of ours! But that’d be a little uncomfortable. So we have to get you your own.” She paused and pointed at the shop window. “Like that! Perfect! ”

Horror washed over Mom’s face. “
You want me to wear
that
?”

“Yes, ma’am. With a tight black tee. And if you’re good, I’ll let you pick the logo on the tee.
Pretty Mama
would work, though, don’t you think, Ari?”

“Oh, absolutely! C’mon Mom, if you’ve got it, flaunt it!”

We reached the door and I grabbed the handle. I froze in my tracks. There. Right there, over behind the big potted plants in front of the show windows. Micah. Not alone this time, either. A smaller black cat stood close to his side.
Two of ‘em?

“Ari?” Stacy asked impatiently. “You goin’ to open that door or not?”

I mentally shook it off and pulled the door open. No point in looking for trouble till it happened. And it was going to happen. Because it always found me. Always. Usually right after a black cat showed up. A black cat by the name of Micah. I hoped to hell two black cats didn’t mean twice the trouble. But I wasn’t optimistic about it.

* * *

Mom paused
for the fourth time in front of a shop window and stared at her reflection. She reached up and fluffed her hair. No more middle-age chin length pageboy. The layers ruffled in the wind. The new golden brown blush thrust her cheekbones into prominence and the golden brown eye-shadow magnified the amber in her eyes.

Stacy tugged at her arm
to get her moving. “C’mon, awakened sleeping beauty! We still have to get you a dress for the clubs tonight. My bachelorette party, remember?”

“Oh, but dear! I brought an outfit—”

“No! You’re not goin’ out in a two-piece tailored suit! Get over it!”

“
But y’all have spent so much money already—”

I sighed. “Mom, you ever total the money you’ve spent raisin’ us?”

“That’s different! That’s what parents do!”

“Well, this is what grateful daughters do! Now hush!” She was getting better at reading facial expressions. One look at ours and she hushed.

“Oh, look!” Stacy pointed at a long champagne colored sheath in the boutique window. Simple, elegant. Boat neckline. Discretely sparkly. Definitely Mom’s color, especially with the new make-up. “Perfect!”

“Oh, my God! That dress in that store has to cost—”

“Mom. You’re worth it.”

Stacy
opened the door and shooed her inside. She turned back to me.

You do know there’s a black cat following us, right?

Two of ‘em, actually.

And I’m sure you’re sure one of ‘em’s Micah?

Oh, yeah.

The other one?

Not a clue.

Double the trouble?

Distinct possibility. And I got an idea it might concern a phone call Chad and I got on the way to the airport. Talk to you later this afternoon.

Just. Great.

* * *

Mom’s classy new champagne sheath safely bagged and tissued in the trunk, Stacy turned off Las Vegas Boulevard and headed toward the outskirts of Vegas.

“Last stop!” she announced.

“Oh, I can’t wait!” Mom pulled down the passenger visor to access the mirror and fluffed her hair again.

“Mom! It looks the same way it looked when you got out of the stylist’s chair!”

“I can’t embarrass you at your club, darlin’! Just checking.”

Stacy slowed, turned onto a state highway, rounded a curve and pulled into a drive sporting a large “Private Property – No Trespassing” sign.

“Voila!” She spread her hands in a flourish.

Mom’s eyes rounded like an owl’s.

“Uh—dear?”

“Ma’am?”

“This—uh—doesn’t look like a—uh—
country club
, somehow.”

It damn sure didn’t. The low cinderblock building, bu
ilt for utility and not aesthetics, sat back off the dusty parking lot. Ten or twelve big motorcycles were parked in front, mostly Harleys but peppered with a few Hondas. Underneath the front row of windows stretched a billboard type sign. “Desert Troopers – Ride the Wind, Brothers!”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t realize you thought it was a country club!”

Like hell you didn’t!
I projected out.
God’s gonna get you for that one, little sister!

Look on her face is worth it, though, huh?

Oh, yeah!

“Oh, look!” I got out of the car quickly and pointed over to the line of parked bikes. Time to get Mom moving before she went into full shock. “Jackster and Moondog are here!
”

And so was Micah and
his new little friend. Over there, disappearing around a corner of the clubhouse.

On cue, the door opened
. A big grin lit the face of the middle-aged guy in Desert Trooper colors standing in the doorway. He spread his arms and came toward us.

“Well, well,
both
my little Rambo girls! Ari, honey, good to see you!” He swept me up in a bear hug and swung me around.

“Jackster!” I hugged back as good as I got. “Good to see you, too!”

Stacy got her bear hug. “Mom, this is our good friend, Jack Hudlin. Affectionately known as the Jackster. Jackster, this is our mom, Grace Anson.”

Jackster
thrust out his hand.

“Ms Anson, I sure see where the girls got their looks! Welcome to Vegas!”

Never let it be said Mom didn’t rise to a social occasion.

“
Why, thank you, Jackster. Where’d you meet my girls, if I might ask?”

Jackster looked
behind Mom and over to us quickly. We shook our heads violently. Mom didn’t need to know the details of our trip to Bike Week, for damn sure.

“Oh, we ran into
them and their guys in Daytona. They were having a little—mechanical trouble. Bikers don’t leave brothers and sisters in a jam. Now, c’mon in! Place is a mess right now, the younger crew had a party last night. But they’re in there now cleaning up and we’ll be all set up for the wedding celebrations.”