“And quite unattractive,” Fabio added, clearing our plates. “Lady bits are lovely.”
“You can stop any time now,” Zach said with an eye roll.
“Whoops,” Fabio said. “This is why no one wants me at parties.”
“Rightly so,” Zach said, chuckling. “You have no filter.”
“Comes with age,” Fabio agreed. “So, we have rehearsal this morning?”
“You’re coming?” I asked.
“Indeed, I am,” he replied with a wicked little grin. “As the former artistic director of the Assjacket Community Theatre, I have every right to be there. And this Mae Blockinschlokinberg seems like she needs a few hard truths explained to her.”
“I like it,” Zach said, standing up and stretching his muscular body in a way that made me ache to jump on it. “Are you comfortable with me calling you Fabio in public?”
Fabio beamed. “I’ll answer to anything you’d like to call me,” he promised. “You wouldn’t believe the names I’ve been called over the years.”
“Actually, I probably would,” Zach said.
Fabio grinned from ear to ear. “Fine point. Well made. Shall we go?”
Snapping my fingers, I replaced my dress from yesterday with a sharp, lime green Stella McCartney mini dress.
“Hang on!” Fabio squealed as he sprinted out of the room.
“What just happened?” I asked Zach.
“No clue,” Zach replied with a grin. “He’s insane.”
“And pretty great,” I added.
Zach paused for a moment and stared at his hands. “Yes. He’s pretty great.”
Fabio flew back into the room with a gorgeous chocolate brown leather Birkin bag that made my mouth water. “For you! It will be fabulous with that dress.”
I wanted it so badly, my fingers itched, but… “I thought that was for Zelda.”
“Darling Willow, I procured six. I always have a few extras lying around. Never know when I need to gift a beautiful bag to a beautiful gal.”
“Define procure,” Zach said dryly.
“Literally or figuratively?” Fabio questioned.
“Forget it,” Zach said, taking my hand in his. “Did you leave brownies?”
“I most certainly did,” Fabio said grandly. “Six dozen. One dozen for each bag and I added extra nuts.”
“You’re extra nuts.” Zach shook his head and sighed in amusement.
The rich, soft leather of the bag was heavenly in my hands. Giving Fabio a quick kiss on the cheek, I grinned at Zach. “I’m sure his brownies are as delicious as his pancakes. I think it’s a fair trade.”
Zach pulled me close and kissed me. “Are we ready to face the day?”
“We are,” I said, my lips already missing his. “Shall we poof over?”
“Yep, let’s poof,” Fabio said. “It’s faster.”
And poof we did.
We poofed right into a shitshow of epic proportions.
And not the one we’d expected.
Chapter Twelve
We arrived to a surprise and not a good one.
“I heard it sucked!” a woman gleefully and maliciously called across the room to another.
“Can’t wait! I just adore mass humiliation,” her nasty buddy shouted back.
Shit. Something was very wrong—tree-mendously wrong. My stomach clenched, and I glanced around in distress for my friends. Not one was in sight.
The large hall was packed with people, wall to wall—at least two hundred. Some milled around and gossiped viciously while others had seated themselves in anticipation of I didn’t even know what. It was ex-tree-mely unsettling. There was a rabid excitement and the aroma of flop sweat in the air that didn’t bode well.
Fabio took in the crowd with a perplexed expression. “Is it possible that Mae Blockinschlokinberg added hundreds of cast members to Jaws: The Musical? Or, perhaps, she replaced all of you.”
“Doubtful,” Zach said as he steered us away from a trio of sour-faced witches and avoided getting us tripped by a group of jerky Shifters who were sticking their feet out then laughing hysterically when someone went down.
“What the heck is going on?” I asked, pushing through the rude crowd trying to reach the stage. It was a bummer to realize Assjacket had unpleasant citizens. Up until now, everyone had been awesome.
“Don’t know,” Zach said tightly, grabbing my hand and drawing me close so I didn’t get swallowed up in the masses.
Fabio paled to the point I thought he might pass out. “No. Oh Goddess, no, no, no,” he choked out, pointing to the group seated in the front row. The seats were filled with umm… men—or at least I thought it was men—wearing make-up, black turtlenecks, berets and unattractive smug smiles.
They held court for a bevy of screaming fans, signing autographs and posing for pictures.
“Who are those… women?” Zach asked, putting his arm around his father so he didn’t drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Not women,” Fabio said in a hushed and horrified tone. “It’s the Tennessee Man-Titty Thespians.”
“That’s actually what they’re called?” I asked. I was sure Sassy had made that one up.
“Look at them,” Fabio hissed. “Of course, they’re called the Man-Titty Thespians. I’d recognize those enormous man knockers and berets from a mile away. You’d think they’d have the decency to wear bras, but nooooo. Who could have done something so dastardly? This will ruin the Assjacket Community Theatre. Bob will be devastated. I’m not sure he’ll recover from this kind of humiliation.”
“Wait,” Zach said, trying not to laugh while expertly navigating us toward the stage. “Men with boobs and berets can ruin Bob’s life?”
“Zach,” Fabio said, quickly pulling us to the backstage area and out of the mob of strangers. “Yes, those men with over-sized mammaries can wreck poor Bob’s life. It seems small and quite honestly humorous, but you have to realize that Bob lives for his art. He’s dreadful, but it fulfills him in a way nothing else other than his unibrow can. When I directed the musical version of Mommie Dearest, I came to a few realizations. One, Mommie Dearest was a terrible choice for a musical, and I never should have cast Bob as Christopher. The beaver had such stage fright he refused to step one foot out of the wings. Sassy covered for him, but that’s a story for another time and will require copious amounts of alcohol to rehash. Number two, there’s exquisite beauty in mediocre
