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I wasn’t convinced that I was the right gal to be the Goddess, but, apparently, the choice wasn’t mine to make. It simply was. My DNA made it so. According to Bette Davis, ‘The key to life is accepting challenges. Once someone stops doing this, he’s dead.’
I had way too much to live for. Bette Davis and I were on the same page.
CHAPTERFOUR
The sunset was stunning—blazingorange and pink. The purple bougainvillea crawling up the walls of my little house shimmered in the light. While the air in LA could be smoggy, living close to the ocean was a treat. All I could smell was the salt from the water and the light scent of lemon coming from my trees. The calm I felt was due to many things at the moment… the hangover effects from the gummy Sean had given me, the two wine coolers that Cher had insisted I drink, my mom and dad holding hands and sitting on my porch swing and Abaddon by my side. However, the majestic beauty of nature’s work was in stark juxtaposition to what was going down on my street.
Tables and chairs had been set up on the road in front of my house. I wasn’t sure how they got their hands on balloons and six life-sized cardboard cutouts of David Hasselhoff, but I kept forgetting my buddies possessed magic… and seriously weird taste. The crowd consisted of inebriated Demons, Succubi and a very tipsy Angel. I was shocked and thrilled that no one had lost an appendage… yet. It still boggled my mind that Immortals could regrow arms and legs. Of course, someone had shown up with a cornhole board and beanbags. Irma and Ophelia had almost come to blows over whether cheating was permitted. After a bunch of threatening and posturing, they decided if someone cheated and didn’t get caught it was fine.
I came close to stepping in and banning cheating, but Dagon had suggested letting it go. He told me to wait for bloodshed before putting my foot down. Crazily, the Demon made sense. Or maybe I was just crazy. Although, when Fifi suggested playing cornhole with grenades, I ended that shit quick.
“You have to try this,” Ophelia insisted, shoving a bowl of what looked like vomit at me. “It’s fucking delish! Moon is whackadoo, but the bitch can cook.”
“Nope, I’m good,” I said, holding up both hands in defense of myself against the Tater-tot casserole. I could do a lot of things. Eating what looked like a dog had puked it up wasn’t one of them.
“You’re missing out, bitch,” she informed me as she wandered away singing Moon Sunny Swartz’s praises for her culinary masterpiece that I would definitely call a shitshow.
I milled around and chatted with my new and old friends. Sean was having a blast talking poetry with Dagon, and Uncle Joe was holding a dance contest on my lawn. Corny had worked up a sweat twerking. It was terrifying to watch. Sushi and Stella were comparing boob jobs. Jonny was hitting on Fifi. I sincerely hoped nothing came of that since Fifi was a Succubus and sucked the life force out of her paramours. She’d sworn she’d been celibate for four hundred years. I expected her to keep her streak. I’d keep an eye on the situation. Jonny wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’d grown on me like a non-deadly fungus.
Sadly, it occurred to me that Jenni wouldn’t be able to be part of this strange and somehow wonderful crowd. She was one hundred percent human. Jenni had been onCamp Bitewith me and Sean all those years ago. Sean and I had played vampires and Jenni was our bubbly human counterpart whose catchline wasHoly Moly! What would Dracula do?She’d left the business after the show ended, went to cosmetology school and was now one of the most sought-after makeup artists in Hollywood. She was my lead hair and makeup onAss The World Turns. My heart hurt at the thought of having to hide most of my life from my BFF, but it was probably best for her safety and sanity.
“Hey!” Cher yelled, sitting at one of the picnic tables. “Come sit with me, Bitch Goddess Cecily. We need to talk shop.”
My agent was fairly wasted, but I decided to hear what she had to say. Abaddon laced his fingers with mine, and we walked together to the inebriated Angel.
“So,” Cher began, propping her tiny stiletto-clad feet up on the table and giving anyone who wanted a nice view of her bright pink panties. “I say we getAss The World Turnsup and running. Every dang studio in town is trying to beat us to the punch with an over-forty female comedy aka a miracle midlife series. It would chap my nethers to a bloody pulp if we got squashed by some suit-wearing, MBA, pencil pushing turd-knocker. You feel me?”
“Dude,” I said with a wince. “Your choice of words is nasty.”
She grinned. “Make ‘em love you. Make ‘em hate you. Never let ‘em forget you.”
Cher was unforgettable. I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m a little concerned about the cast now.”
My agent’s eyes grew huge. “What in the Hell’s Angels are you talking about? We got the best of the best. Aubrey Zawn, Janie Stone, Sammy Sam Samuelson and Wanda Adams are the best in the biz.”
“They’re human.”
Cher looked at Abaddon. Abaddon looked at Cher. They both started laughing at the same time. I was completely left out of the joke.
“Umm… would someone like to clue me in here?” I asked, getting annoyed.
“Not human,” Cher said, still laughing. “Not a single one of them.”
“Shut the front door,” I shouted. “Are you serious?”
“No. I’m Cher. But yes, I’m serious,” she said.
I had to pause for a hot sec and replay her answer in my head. Cher could be confusing when she was sober. She wasn’t sober.
“Are they Demons?” I asked.
“Sammy, Aubrey and Janie are Angels,” Abaddon explained. “Wanda Adams is a Demon through and through.”
“Well, Ophelia did say that Hollywood was loaded with Demons,” I muttered, reaching into Cher’s bag and pilfering a wine cooler.
“Wait,” Cher said, perplexed. “I thought you picked them because you knew.”
“I didn’t even know I was a Demon when I chose them,” I told her.
