Blythe shot a covert glance at Poutine. Poutine was delightfully shocked. Annie Surely’s mouth hung open. Maybe Sassy had been wrong about Canadians. Maybe they weren’t as nice as the fantastic idiots in Assjacket.
Maybe the dames wouldn’t want to leave…
“I’m Wanda,” Wanda told the gals as she served up huge hunks of cheesecake. “You must be Sassy’s Canadian tutors.”
“We are,” Annie Surely said, purring her content as Wanda gave her a scratch on the head. “And full disclosure, we’re also cat burglars. But we’re not here to steal anything—just here to tutor Sassy and check on a few things for the Goddess.”
Wanda leaned in and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Sassy is so happy she can speak the language now. However, all the talk about boots is a little much.”
“Sorry aboot that,” Blythe said with a laugh.
“Not to worry,” Wanda assured her, grinning. “Anyone who makes our Sassy feel on top of the world is good in my book. And dessert is on me.” She eyed me and the boys with amusement. “Not that you would have paid anyway.”
On that slightly embarrassing note, she winked.
“Wanda?” Poutine asked as she walked away. “Do you happen to know why women rub their eyes in the morning?”
Wanda thought about it for a moment then shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie, I don’t.”
“No big deal,” Poutine said. “Just thought I’d ask.”
My gal was trying to figure out the cryptic message from the Goddess. I’d help my lady get to the bottom of it. I might not pay for my meals, but I was a damn good partner in crime when it came to solving magical mysteries.
“I love it here,” Blythe announced, slurping loudly from her saucer of cream.
“Me too,” Annie Surely added, peeking over at Poutine.
Poutine shrugged with boredom, and I grinned.
So far, so good.
“Where did Sassy go?” I called out to Wanda, looking around the empty diner.
“Jeeves is in the kitchen cooking up a storm for tomorrow,” Wanda said as she wiped down a few tables. “She went back to display her new language skills and most likely to make out.”
“Youse closin’ soon?” Jango asked Wanda.
“Yep, but take your time,” she replied. “Gotta do inventory tonight, and DeeDee has the evening off. I’ll be here for another hour or two.”
A wonky day had come to a perfect end.
Almost.
Nothing good lasts forever. I just wish it would last for more than twenty-four fucking hours before it blew up.
They walked in the front door looking surprised and confused. There were three of them. A mother, a father and a spoiled rotten female kid. Humans.
“Da fuck?” Boba choked out.
“What’s wrong?” Annie Surely asked, glancing around in confusion.
“They never come here,” Boba whispered, pointing at the trio. “Never.”
“Dis is bad,” I muttered. “Very f-in’ bad.”
“Oh my goodness gracious,” the woman cried out, whipping out her cell phone to snap pictures. “This place is so charming. I just love it!”
“Are you open?” the man called out to a wildly alarmed Wanda.
“Umm… I was just…” Wanda trailed off, unsure how to respond.
“Great,” the man said. “We’ll grab a table.”
“I’m hungry,” the kid whined. “I want to eat. NOW.”
“We will, honey,” the woman assured her mollycoddled spawn then turned to Wanda. “We’re in a bit of a hurry. Get someone over here to take our order immediately.”
“Service here is crappy,” the man muttered, checking his phone.
“What do you expect,” the woman snapped. “They’re rednecks.”
I wanted to zap the shit out of the humans for being rude to Wanda, but that would give away a secret that wasn’t mine to give.
Wanda was still frozen in her spot, unsure of how to handle something that had never occurred. Humans never stopped in Assjacket. And if they did, they’d never stepped foot into one of our establishments. The town looked like shit for a reason. What in the Goddess’s mom jeans was happening?
“Get down on the floor,” I hissed frantically at my dessert companions. “Dem’s humans. It don’t look right if cats is sittin’ at a table eatin’.”
Without a word of complaint or any backtalk at all, we slipped out of our chairs and under the table. We couldn’t even help Wanda. Talking cats were a big fucking no-no.
“What do weese do?” Boba Fett asked, pulling on his whiskers and peeking out at the hot mess.
“Weese can’t say nothin,” I ordered, freaking out. “They can’t have no clue about the magic. They ain’t supposed to be here. Somethin’ bad is happenin’ in Assjacket.”
“Look at me, Fat Bastard,” Poutine hissed. “There is more than one way to skin a cat. If you can’t use magic, you use something else.”
Next thing I knew, she’d punched me right in the kisser. I saw f-in’ stars. Poutine had one hell of a right hook. Normally, I’d find that hot. Right now, I was grateful the dame pulled me back to reality.
“Text your witch,” Poutine whispered. “Tell her we need backup who can talk to humans and make them leave. Blythe and Annie Surely get ready to stage a cat fight. Make sure you use claws and draw copious amounts of blood. Jango, groom yourself. Swallow enough fur so you can hurl an enormous slimy hairball. Boba, what disgusting talent do you have?”
“Youse name it, I can do it,” he promised.
Poutine sized him up as I watched in admiration and amazement. My dame was badass under pressure.
“Can you pass wind on command?” she asked.
Boba laughed. “I fart like a champion.”
“Understatement,” I said, patting my comrade with pride.
“Outstanding,” Poutine said, all business. It was hotter than Satan’s underpants. “Boba, slink under the tables and place yourself strategically near the humans. When Jango pukes up the ball,” she began only to be cut off by a horrified squeak from Jango.
“Whoa. I thought weese was talking a hairball, not my giggle nuggets,” he said, paling under his fur. “I’m all
