Going Nowhere

Chapter 12 - Karaoke-nightmare

"What?"

"I'm an archangel."

The way Gabe raised one brow when he announced this was snooty enough to rival my mother, although not on par with the Az.

"You can stay here and discuss lineage if you like, but I'm going home," I shared. "In Grandma's pink car which smells of dog urine."

"I'll take you home," Rafael murmured. "Someone will clean the car and drive it up to Nowhere tomorrow. Consider it a part of your fee."

"You can't kiss me."

He blinked.

"Just saying," I added and glared at Joel who was chatting with a cute and suitably slutty biker-babe, although still listening in on what I said so he was also laughing.

"I won't," Rafael said calmly. "Not before the second date. That was the agreement with Vik-Hansen."

They had agreed when –

"Okay," I said quickly before either of my friends could share that Jack apparently was sneaky like... a wolf.

We talked about the ghoul on our way back to Nowhere and he, or she, was apparently the reason Gabe had been there with the rocks in the first place. Ghouls had problems with sacred artifacts, and since St. Johns bridge was pretty danged special, they wanted to make him find alternative living accommodations. Rafael walked me to the door, pecked my cheek, and left with a grin at my brother Tom who was watching us whilst snickering in a teenagery and hence moronic way.

I worked the day-shift the next day which sucked because bikers slept during the day. Or drove their bikes. Or whatever, but what they did not do was drink beer, so the tips were abysmal, and I hadn't been in a good mood when I went home to get ready for goddamned karaoke.

When I'd brushed my hair, I walked downstairs and out on the porch where Jack and Gramps were waiting. Elsa had bowed out, and Joel was not going to join me on what he said sounded like, "A date from hell." Jackson's brother Parker might be there later, though, and I looked forward to that. I hadn't seen him since he joined the navy several years earlier.

Gramps was dressed up in black suit pants, a paisley patterned, turquoise silk shirt with a yellow handkerchief in the pocket and an enormous, matching yellow bow-tie. It looked like he was wearing the enlarger-thingie again and it stretched the pants to the max.

Yikes.

***

"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema comes walking..." Gramps crooned, off-key and also a little off beat.

He added something that was a feeble imitation of a moonwalk, which made the crotch-enlarger slide to the side to settle on his hip, and I was pretty sure I'd die. Jackson was suddenly breathing hoarsely and choppily through clenched teeth, and I didn't dare to look at him.

The ladies attending the karaoke-nightmare at the community center cheered and wiggled their butts, likely thinking it would make them look either tall, young or lovely. It did neither, but it was not for lack of trying. The nurse from the old folks' home out by the creek was acting as emcee, and when the horror was over, she aimed her eyes at Jackson and me. Jack shook his head slowly. Mrs. Ratched turned to me, and I growled softly. She looked at Jack again and raised a brow.

"Later," he stalled, and added when she aimed a death-glare at him, "Want my brother to be here."

"Huh," Mrs. Ratched huffed, but then three women started punching buttons on the karaoke machine, and she got busy trying to assist with their song choices.