A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,1

“Then you try it.”

Candy shrugged, removed the toothpick from her mouth and took a bite of the mysterious concoction. “Tastes like baked ass with blueberries,” she muttered, swallowing with effort.

I was wildly pleased she didn’t spit it back out onto the plate. Candy’s manners were iffy at best.

“Can you understand them?” I whispered as I watched Gideon grow angrier and Clarence narrow his eyes in displeasure.

“Yep,” she replied, putting her tennis-shoe-clad feet on my kitchen table.

“Nope.” I knocked her feet back to the floor. “Tell me what they’re saying.”

“Can I put my feet back up?” Candy bargained.

“Only if you want to eat the entire blueberry ass casserole,” I shot back.

“Spicy,” Candy muttered with a laugh and scooted her chair closer to me. “They’re arguing about if you can be trusted to tell the truth of what you see in Steve’s mind. Clarence believes you’re too close to be neutral. The Angel of Mercy stands to lose everything if she’s deemed guilty. The Grim Reaper is on your side completely… of course, you’re banging him.”

“First of all, I’m not banging him,” I snapped. “And if I was, it’s not any of your business. While I do understand you’re a badass who could probably incinerate me with a flick of your desperately in-need-of-a-manicure finger, I’d like to remind you that I punched a freaking tree and it fell over.”

Candy eyed me until I grew uncomfortable. Unsure if she was going to tear my head off with her bare hands or laugh, I held my breath.

“You’ve got enormous nards,” she stated, raising her brow.

“Lady balls,” I corrected her.

“Whatever,” Candy said. “It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” I replied, shaking my head. My Southern manners were ingrained. A rude compliment was still a compliment and required a polite response.

Candy stabbed the baked blueberry ass with her toothpick and pulled out a fresh one. “So, as I said, Clarence isn’t on your side, Death Counselor.”

“John Travolta is being a dick,” I hissed under my breath. “And Clarissa is guilty.”

“What you just said is proof of Clarence’s issue,” Candy pointed out. “You’ve already damned the Angel of Mercy without proof of guilt. While I hate the bitch, I have to side with Clarence on this.”

Shit. She did have a point. I questioned how far I would go to ensure the safety of my dead former husband’s afterlife. I would go very far… very, very far. Steve was my best friend.

“The problem is that Gideon has found in the text that it’s impossible for another to join a Death Counselor in the mind of the dead,” Charlie said quietly.

“Do you agree with John Travolta and Candy that I can’t be trusted?” I asked.

Charlie was quiet for a long moment. He was round, polite and as kind as can be. It still blew my mind that Charlie was the Immortal Enforcer. He was married to the sweetest human in the Universe—my dear friend June. Of course, she had no clue, but I certainly did. As of about a month ago, I became very aware of the secret world that had been right under my nose my whole life.

“Trust is not the issue,” Charlie explained. “Much more than you can comprehend is on the line. What I do believe is that your loyalty is with Steve. It muddies the waters.”

“There’s another way,” Tim announced loudly.

Everyone stopped and stared at Tim. God, I hoped my new, socially awkward, vibrator-rehoming friend was going to make sense. As the Immortal Courier between the darkness and the light, he was full of shocking information.

“Speak,” Gideon said tersely.

“Daisy is a hybrid Angel,” Tim said, pointing to my eyes.

That woke Gram up fast. “What in tarnation are you talkin’ about?” she demanded. “Her mamma was a human Death Counselor, just like me and just like Daisy.”

“And her father?” Tim asked.

Gram sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“If this is true,” I said, feeling strange and a little panicky. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“Interesting,” Karma said, leaning in and studying my eyes. “I hadn’t noticed. Very, very interesting.”

“Again. Why?” I demanded. “How does the possibility of me being some kind of half-breed freak help get justice for Steve?”

Ignoring my question, Clarence leveled me with a hard look. “What is it that you want? To send your dead husband into the light or to destroy the Angel of Mercy?”

“The Angel of Mercy damned Steve to the darkness out of hatred of me. Her decision can’t stand.” I snapped. “So to answer your question… it’s one and