I spoke out loud to myself, “Nope, you are not going to think about any of that. We are going to relax, goddammit.”
A second dip back into the tub was not as nice as the first. The reentry of my cold, wet body chilled the water several degrees. Irritation raked along my insides at the inconvenience. At least I had managed to fill the tub before the brownout.
My beats cut out as my phone rang, and Vivien’s face appeared. I scrambled to get up, clawing for my phone before settling back into the bath with a hard splash. Half the bubbles had disappeared from all my moving about. Just freaking great.
“Hey,” I said, a little breathless.
“Hiya,” Vivien said brightly. She was my best friend and also happened to be a vampire.
It took only that one word to let me know why she called.
“What do you need?” I sighed.
“My dearest, most awesome friend,” Vivien said, laying on the syrup in her tone. “What makes you think I need something? Can’t I just call to chat with you?”
Silence fell over the phone. I didn’t bother to fill it, instead I smoothed a thin layer of pearlescent bubbles over my smooth, brown legs and waited. Waxing my legs at home was a messy, pain in the ass chore, but I didn’t like shaving every day. I wondered if my vampire best friend had to shave anymore? Probably not, the lucky bitch.
“Okay, okay,” Vivien burst out.
I knew if I waited a scant two minutes, she would crack. I was fairly certain if Vivien tried to hold in a secret for too long, she would explode into a cloud of blood, glitter, and sugar. The things I knew about her sex life alone were as detailed as they were vivid. Not that I minded since her stories of banging her equally supernatural honey were the only sexual thrill I got these days.
“It’s not me actually,” she confessed. “Here—” she said to someone off before I heard a shuffle.
A male voice came on the line. “Miranda?”
I straightened in the tub so fast, bubbles and water sloshed over the side.
“Mr. Scarapelli.” Grim Scarapelli, aka Vivien’s husband, aka the Grim Reaper himself. Though his original origins are more ancient and Egyptian, he is the god of the dead, once known as Anubis.
He used to prowl about in a monstrous jackal form and judge souls in the pyramids, but he’d modernized to the times.
Grim now wore expensive suits and owned the most exclusive hotel in Vegas, Sinopolis, a massive pyramid made of dark glass and filled with decadent luxury. He also happened to be my boss.
“Miranda, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Grim?” His voice was smooth as dark chocolate, and though he was my best friend’s soul mate, I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. But I learned not to take his magnetic effect seriously; every person had a little bit of a death wish. It helped to know it was a supernatural thing, and that I wasn’t just a total scumbag.
“How can I help you?” I asked my boss.
There was a pause, and I imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose on the other end, a pose he fell back on when particularly pensive. While I waited for him to answer, I wondered why he didn’t call or text me from his phone. It wasn’t totally uncommon for him to contact me; I was head of security at his luxury hotel, Sinopolis, the most exclusive and upscale place to be on the Vegas Strip. Then I realized this wasn’t business as usual. Going through Vivien meant it was personal.
“I know it’s late, and I hate to impose, but there is something I would like to discuss with you.”
I was already up and out of the tub with a towel wrapped about my soaking body. “Is it serious?”
“It is of a serious nature, yes,” he said, hedging his words. “It’s best if we speak in person. Is there any chance you could come to the hotel? Is Jamal at home? I’d be happy to send Timothy over to watch him while we handle our matters.”
“I could watch him,” I heard Vivien suggest in the background.
“No,” Grim and I said in unison.
I wouldn’t even trust my best friend with my imaginary hoard of sea monkeys. She’d either get distracted and leave them to die, or get some strange idea stuck in her head like feeding them sugar packets would supersize them somehow.
Translate these propensities toward a child and Jamal would definitely end up worse for wear. Nope. It was best my kid and the woman-sized child stay buddies rather than give her an ounce of power or authority over my spawn.
Pulling my cap off, I ignored Vivien’s long whine that followed. A tumble of thin box braids fell down past my shoulder blades to my lower back. “That won’t be necessary, sir. Jamal left this morning for camp.”
My sweet, intelligent baby boy was eleven years old, and I missed him already.
“He’ll be away for some time then?” Grim asked, trying to keep things light.
