"I'm on the other side of the alley. Not really worried about the flames," I chuckled. "Kinda used to those. Part of the whole Fire Dragon gig, ya’ know what I mean?”
“Oh yeah,” she chuckled. “I hear ya’. But as long as you’re okay. That’s what’s important. Even being a Fire Dragon, you have to take care of yourself. Buildings can be rebuilt. You cannot.”
“Yes, you’re right.” I begrudgingly admitted then added with a tone I hoped truly let her know I appreciated her effort, “Thank you for asking and for your concern. It really does make me feel better.”
What a sweetheart. I couldn’t help but tell her how great she was at her job. This woman had found her calling. It was as obvious as the spade on the end of Aideen’s tail that the Tigress loved what she did, and was damned good at it, too.
“Aww, thank you so much,” she gushed for just a split second before snapping right back to her professional persona and asking, “Anyone inside the shop?”
"No. We hadn't opened yet. It was just my boys and me."
“Your boys? They’re with you? How old are they?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are always with me. I never leave home without them.” Pausing for half a second, I quickly added, “Next month the two oldest will be eighty-four, or maybe it’s eighty-five, and the youngest is only forty-two.”
"Good. Good. You're doing great," she coached without so much as stuttering over the age of 'my boys,' at which point I mentally muttered, "Oh, yeah, super great, fan-fuckin-tastic. Just wait ‘til we get to the punchline of the joke that is my life then we’ll see what you think of the Magnificent Martha Dellencourt.”
Thank the Goddess she couldn’t hear my rambling mutters and continued collecting needed information. “What’s the address?”
“11111 Dellencourt Ave.”
(Yep, the street was named after my family. Nope, we didn't plan it or even ask for it. Just happened when the Great Goddess and the Universe, along with Fate– we can’t forget Fate– picked mom and dad to revive the Dragon Queen population. It was further solidified, when I bought the dilapidated old building that had once been a grocery store and butcher shop and converted it into my home and place of business. Of course, the naming of the avenue became utterly carved in the stone of time when Maeve, Dellencourt sister number two, bought the massive brownstone on the next block, and Maisie, the baby of the Clan, bought original Elks’ Lodge when they moved closer to the center of town and turned it into her home. Go figure.)
“Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
"Oh, no," the operator cried out, her emotions streaming through the phone, making me feel worse for her than I felt for myself. She was truly despondent. "That's my favorite coffee shop in the whole world. I was called into work early today or I would be on my way to see you right this very minute. Please tell me your little sweeties– Chewy, Arthur, and Otis– are okay."
“You betcha,” I snickered. “That’s the boys I was referring to.”
“Oh, yeah, duh. Are you…?”
But that was as far as she got before I heard a commotion rivaling two women fighting over the last of my ‘hand bedazzled bags’ during the Black Friday Sale at Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags. The absolutely Lovely Tigress I had been speaking with growled, “Well, if you would’ve let me take off the headset before you tried to squeeze your big head into it, we might be tied together tighter than two stalks of hay in bale.”
Then the other person– the intruder snarled, “Oh, just zip it, Sweetie. That’s my sister on that phone! Give. It. To. Me!”
“Maisie?”
“Did you hear that, Aideen? Was that really…?”
“Martha. Martha, are you okay?” More scuffling, more than a few growls and snarls, a hiss that sounded rather serious and if I wasn’t mistaken the grunts and huffs of two women having a heated battle of tug-0-war over the cord attached to the headset that may or may not have still been on the head of the sweet, but not-to-be-fucked-with, White Tiger.
“Martha!” Maisie’s was at least an octave lower than it had been a moment before, and there was the distinct felling of Dragon Magic streaming across the airwaves.
It was time to consult…
“This is not good,” Aideen warned. “It sure feels like…”
“Martha! This is Maisie! Are you okay? Do you need me? Will you tell Princess Pissy Puss that you. Are. My. Sister.”
Her voice still sounded faraway, but nonetheless fierce and furious. It was one of the few constants in my life–my boys were always there for me, Maeve was always calm, cool, and collected to the point of almost being boring, and Maisie was a force to be reckoned with every single minute of every single day, and even more so when she thought one of us was in danger.
She was gonna be an awesome mom. There was no doubt about it– especially since I was gonna be there to make sure she kept the helicopter parenting to a minimum.
“I swear to the Ancients, I will watch you…”
“Maisie,” I used the unique telepathic link I shared with her, but there was no answer. Well, other than a whole lot of growling and snarling– and that was just my little sister. The Dragon Queen with whom she shared her soul was just about to blow.
