Page 20 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight

“Are.”

“NOT.”

“Umm… Daisy,” Gideon said, squinting at me with a slight wince.

“Right,” I said, quickly. Shitty Ritchie brought the fourth-grade boy mentality out in me. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry,” Candy Vargo said with a chuckle. “I’m just proud that you didn’t call him a motherfucker… cause I sure wanted to.” She blanched then electrocuted herself for the poop word.

I was pretty sure tonight couldn’t get any weirder.

But wait… things could always get weirder.

I searched my brain for solutions. I knew we could go back to my old farmhouse that I’d gifted to my Angel siblings, but that would be a tight squeeze. Splitting up was a bad plan. If the Higher Power decided to show Its bahookey, we needed protection around Alana Catherine. I wasn’t risking her life. Period.

“Over here,” Tim said, instructing the group with a wave about twenty feet from Shitty Ritchie.

We gathered in a circle and whispered.

“I say we shake the turd down then let the little tater tot twat fix the house,” Candy Vargo said.

“Twat is pushin’ it,” Gram warned her. “That ain’t no atomically correct term.”

“Whoops,” Candy said, punching herself in the head. “My bad. How about Velveeta va-jay-jay?”

“Not much better,” Gram said, shaking her head. “But I’ll give it a pass, girlie.”

I was just happy Candy didn’t light herself on fire again. Our circle was tight, and I didn’t want to get burned. It was the little things I was grateful for right now. The big picture was a hot mess, so it was necessary for my sanity that I found small wins.

Charlie glanced back at the box holding Shitty Ritchie. “I think Candy Vargo has a point.”

“About fixing the house?” I asked. Surely, Charlie didn’t like that plan. I hated it.

“Absolutely not,” he assured me.

“Bout the twat?” Candy inquired.

She was roundly ignored by everyone.

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment. It was obvious that ignoring Candy’s butchering of the English language was taking a toll. “About shaking him down… for information.”

I kind of wanted to shake Charlie down for bringing the destructive Immortal to my home, but getting mad would get me nowhere. Charlie rarely did anything without reason.

Tim leaned forward. His pad was filled with notes on the rippling prison. “If, and I repeat if… Shitty Ritchie wants to stay here to avoid certain death, the chaos goblin must prove himself. I agree with Charlie that we question him. If he plays dirty, we shall move him to a remote island and put out the word of his location.”

Shitty Ritchie shrieked and threw an impressive tantrum. The tiny jerk practically twisted himself into a pretzel. Thejust regularImmortal clearly had outstanding aural talents. He didn’t like that plan. His piercing blue eyeswere filled with panic. However, he was not in charge. He was a menace with a penchant for violence. That description could also apply to Candy Vargo, but she was one of the good guys.

Tim motioned us further away. I wasn’t sure that was going to keep Shitty Ritchie from hearing us, but complied. Tim scribbled furiously on his pad then held it out for us to read.

It said—we are captives of our own identities. Living in prisons of our own creation.

“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “That sounds familiar. Who said it?”

Heather chuckled. “It’s from the TV showPrison Break.”

I groaned. We were now getting our inspiration from fictitious TV shows? Whatever. I’d learned quickly to go with the flow. Tim, like Charlie, was a reasonable and smart person. “How does this apply?”

“Whoever wants him dead has reasons,” Tim stated.

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