DELILAH
Iglance over the patio at the Maison, assessing the setup with a trained eye.
Leo has a spread of food and drinks along one edge. The boys removed most of the furniture to prevent people from sitting in cliques. We replaced it with heavy armchairs arranged in an arc. Lily is walking around, checking the setup from her point of view and giving Hex advice on what might assist the conversational flow.
Hopefully, she’ll have constructive suggestions; she sees things very differently than I do.
My first instinct was to protest this bullshit, especially when Sari suggested it take place at my house. I’m uncomfortable inviting people to attack me publicly in my home. Unfortunately, it was the biggest space that would hold everyone, but not be on Sari’s turf. I’d staunchly refused to host at the Pridelands, so I gave in so no one would accuse me of isolating myself even more. This stuff is tiring as hell, and I’m ready for it to be resolved, though I know in my heart it won’t happen because of one stupid meeting.
The chair I reserved for myself is a special overstuffed armchair equipped with a few surprises in case anything turns ugly. Sitting on the cushion is a sparkly stick that resembles a spirit stick from cheerleading lore. I feel like an idiot for using it, but when Lily and I discussed how to control the crowd, this was the best we came up with. Since the agreed-upon rules forbid partner attendance, it’s the only support we will have to maintain order.
It’s still likely that this will end in disaster, but at least we tried.
Lily nods at me, and I turn to see Michaela walking up the driveway. She calls out to the bubbly blonde with a smile. “You made it!”
Yay…
Michaela nods, giving my tiny, dark-haired co-mayor a hug. “I brought coffee and chocolate.” She waves a gallon jug from the donut shop and shakes a gigantic bag of candy.
I chuckle, pretending I didn’t notice that she snubbed me as she came in. “None for me until I digest what I just ate.” Michaela’s eyes widen and I wink at her.
The blond looks like she’s going to approach me for a hug when a loud beep echoes through the backyard. That can only mean one thing: someone unwelcome breached the perimeter.
I know who it is without looking.
Sari strolls up with a big, plastic smile on her face. Her eyes dart around—checking for family members behind the potted plants, no doubt. “Hello, everyone.”
Typical shit-stirring little wench.
My exiled mate strolls in as if nothing is wrong, waving at the three of us in a way reminiscent of royalty. Luckily, that gives away her game for the night. She’s going to play the victim of a harsh regime, rebelling for the people. That’s how she’ll get people to see Talia and me as their oppressors.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
I could give a shit who any of them are sleeping with anymore. I don’t even care about their secret suburb and its politics other than how it’s affecting my home. I’m not even sure that I give a shit about these people—period. My mind changes on that from minute to minute since this bullshit started.
Running over, Michaela hugs the traitor and ruffles her hair. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
Such a liar. I know she’s got a second home over there, and a bullshit car mechanic business.
“Hey everyone.” Rita walks up with a large cheesecake. “I brought reinforcements.”
Laughing, I sip my drink to feel the sharp bite on my tongue so I can calm my temper. “We’re going to need to roll out of this place by the end of the night. Poor Leo will think that we don’t like his snacks if we don’t eat those as well.”
Lily blinks as the next guest strolls up the front walk—unlike Sari, the rest of the town seems to understand that guests don’t use the back entrance. “Evening, Marina. I didn’t know you were coming.”
The shy goth smiles and wiggles her fingers. “I know you’re surprised. I don’t come to a lot of the community-wide stuff.”
That’s putting it mildly; she’s barely poked her head out since moving here a year ago.
There’s an entire subsection of the Resistance that seldom takes part in anything and lurks on the fringes like weird cam peepers. But I smile regardless, pleased to see a non-hostile face, and gesture at the spread.
“That’s okay; we’re glad you came. We invited everyone. I love seeing people that I seldom get to interact with join in.”
At that moment, Talia apparates—courtesy of our mate, I’m sure—and Tamara comes strolling up the lawn with four bottles of wine.
I guess everyone realizes this will not be easy—they’ve all brought booze and sugar. We’re worried about needing comfort and not having our families around to soften the blow. I can’t blame them, but it is not lost on me that it’s all the question marks or definite rebels bringing mind-altering substances. That amps up my suspicions a bit, despite their claims that it’s ‘to help’.
No one is more concerned about the toll this damn thing will take than I am.
