Page 23 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight

I eyed Shitty Ritchie warily. He eyed me right back. “How did you get out of the box?”

“I have no idea,” he announced, brushing dirt and twigs off his sweatsuit.

“Leave this place,” I snapped. “I’m not playing your games.”

“Itty Ritty stay,” Alana Catherine insisted, pointing at him. “Stay.”

I inhaled deeply and blew it out loudly. I exchanged a cryptic look with Gideon. His eyes still shone blood red, but he was no longer glowing with rage. He gave me a curt nod. Following orders from a baby that could end in a literal shit storm was a first for me. My gut was clenched, and I was second-guessing my entire life. “You have one more chance,” I said to the tiny idiot flatly. “How did you get out of the box?”

Shitty Ritchie rolled his eyes at least twenty times in quick succession. It looked like the turd was having a seizure. However, his raised middle finger let me know he was fine.

“Nothing can hold me,” he finally replied as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet from rolling his eyes so many times.

I glanced around at my friends and family. No one said a word. They just stared at Shitty Ritchie in shock.

“Ground rules,” Tim reminded me.

I nodded. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of it. But what I really couldn’t believe was what my baby had just done. It was beyond insane. However, she wanted IttyRitty to stay. I was choosing to believe her. Anything was possible… I just had to believe. Shitty Ritchie was here. Alana Catherine believed he was here for a reason. I freaking hoped I didn’t regret what I was about to say. “You can stay. We’ll protect you from whoever is hunting you in exchange for information. However, if you harm a single hair on anyone’s head or destroy any more property, all bets are off, and you’ll be on your own. Deal?”

Shitty Ritchie smiled. It was slightly terrifying, but it made my baby giggle. “Deal.”

Wishes. I’d stick to bargaining with wishes. Although, the old proverb came roaring to the forefront of my mind—if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. Point being that if wishes actually came true even the most destitute person would have all they desired. That wasn’t the way the world worked.

It was a risk, but at this point we had nothing… and everything to lose.

CHAPTER SIX

Candy Vargo didn’t mess around.She worked quickly. My new house didn’t look like my old house at all. I didn’t complain. At least there would be a roof over our heads. Unsurprisingly, Candy had crappy taste. The main house she’d conjured up was a single-story tract home and was painted an unfortunate shade of teal. There were a dozen double-wide trailers surrounding the new and unsightly abode. Each trailer had a number plastered on it—one through twelve. Gideon groaned. Abby and Prue almost choked on their spit. I was with them. It was an eyesore, but everyone was exhausted, and my baby needed to sleep.

“Ta-freakin’da, corn nuts!” Candy yelled, taking a bow.

“Ya done good, girlie,” Gram told her as she, Mr. Jackson and Jimmy George Carrots zipped around the new andtemporaryneighborhood.

Other than the ghosts, only Tim and Shitty Ritchie seemed enchanted with the strange layout. Tim snapped photos with his phone and Shitty Ritchie oohed and ahhed over every detail. For a hot sec, I wondered where Charlie had found thetiny dude and what his living situation had been. Not important. I wouldn’t use up a wish to find out that information.

En masse we toured the tract home with Candy leading the way and Tim on her heels. Gideon walked with me and held our baby. Behind us, Charlie and Heather walked on either side of Shitty Ritchie, sandwiching him in. Prue, Abby, Rafe and Gabe brought up the rear. If the tiny weirdo tried anything, ten insanely powerful Immortals would be all over him in less time than it took to blink. Shockingly, because of Alana Catherine’s decree that turd-man should stay, I wasn’t overly worried about another tornado this evening. However, I was alert and ready to step on him again if he posed any sort of threat.

The main house had two bedrooms—a master and a nursery. All of the furniture was serviceable and bland except for the kitchen. It was gold and bright orange with accents of olive green. It looked like something the 1970s had puked up. The orange Formica countertops and mustard yellow linoleum floors were perfectly awful. The appliances were olive green and matched the table and chairs. It was too heinous to be called kitschy. Ugly was ugly. Didn’t matter. Gideon and I could rebuild at a later date.

“Let’s divide up and hit the hay,” Candy Vargo announced, looking damn proud of herself for the lodgings. “Prue and Abby can take McMansion number one. Rafe and Gabe, number two.” She chuckled like an elementary school kid. “Put you in number two on purpose. Figured a good poop might help your shitty personalities. Pun motherhumpin’ intended!”

“Pretty sure shitty ain’t on the approved list,” Gram told Candy.

“Dangit!” Candy bellowed, bending over and spanking the daylights out of her own bottom. It was a little much, but waspreferable to her going up in flames. “My bad! Lemme try that again.”

“Please don’t,” Heather pleaded.

Candy Vargo did not listen. She turned to Rafe and Gabe. “I put y’all in number two because I figured a good poop might help your potato chip penis personalities.”

“Lordy,” I said, choking back a laugh. “That might have been worse.”

The Keeper of Fate shrugged and popped a toothpick into her mouth. “Possibly, but it was legal.”

Rafe shook his head. Gabe closed his eyes. However, both of my brothers were grinning. It was too absurd and dumb not to laugh.

“Alrighty then,” Candy continued. “Charlie and Tim can take number three. Heather and I will take number four.”

“Nope,” Heather said quickly and forcefully. “You snore. You take four and I’ll take five.”

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