“No, what?”
“That one day you leave for work, and I have no idea what I’m dealing with in your world, and I’m not prepared for what happens if something happens,” she told him, “and that scares me.”
“You scare me, Willow.”
“Me?” she asked, looking up at him as her fingers toyed with the hairs on his chest.
“At times, I feel like you are reading my soul and can see right through me. You know exactly what I want when I want it and how I want it. That scares the shit out of me,” he said, detaching their bodies.
“Too bad,” she told him, rolling over to lay across his chest. “You licked me. I’m yours now. Plus, four times in 22 minutes, you will be hard pressed to not wake up and find me on top of you having my way. I’m going to be so sore in the morning. I don’t even care. I’ll give you whatever the hell you want, Mr. Hoyt.”
It was the same thing the Archangel had spoken. He licked her good too and yes she was his. The thought crossed his mind that after six years of no sexual activity, there was a high probability that he’d just impregnated the woman, which made him feel warm on the inside. Suddenly, he realized a random fact, that scientifically, how long it’s been wouldn’t matter. It’s about the timing and how many eggs she has left at her age. Either way, he was going to put a bun in the chocolate cake baking oven.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to marry you one way or another,” he said, looking at her. Willow was asleep and didn’t hear his words. It didn’t matter. He was going to marry her sexy, gourmet-cooking ass anyway and give those girls his last name. “I want a son, Willow, so give me that. A handsome fellow to go along with the two beautiful daughters you walked into my life with.”
If she were able to do that, then he’d be content to spend the rest of his life doing nothing but fishing off his boat. He frowned as he thought about the cat in the hat and the necktie wearing dog named Pierce. In the morning, he would make a new list of things to do, and calling the indoor waterpark in Concord, North Carolina to amend his reservation was high on the list. Suddenly, he was hit with another genius idea which required the help of Yield, The Mann, and an Archangel.
“Coolness,” he smiled, snuggling up to Willow, and drifting off to sleep.
RAMI COULDN’T SLEEP. Every which way he turned, every rock he flipped over, every hill he climbed, the trail went cold. There was no way in hell that woman and kids could simply disappear without a trace. Maybe they were dead.
“I’ll make the call in the morning, touch base with Proderick, and get my money,” Rami said, looking at the ceiling.
He was hit with a brilliant idea. All of it could fall right into place if he lined it all up just so. Lined it up just perfectly to get the money and get free of the likes of Proderick Hymn. The word would spread, and he’d be in the money.
“Just a bit more time,” Rami said, leaning over to touch the bag of glitter. “A little more time is all I need.”
Chapter Fourteen – Replica
RAPHAEL WASN’T SORE per se, but he felt like he’d had a rough night at the rodeo. His tongue felt dry and too thick to sit behind his teeth as he attempted to swallow, but it felt like the spit congealed in his mouth. A futile attempt to open his lips sounded like a bad case of cottonmouth just before he was due to deliver his Easter speech in church.
“Growl,” he said aloud, stretching, rolling to his side, and finding the bed empty. To his displeasure, when he turned to the other side and looked into the bathroom, thinking maybe she’d gotten up to relieve herself, he heard no noises. She’d gone back to her room so Karli would wake up next to her Mama. “Thoughtful for the kid, but not so much for me. I wanted to wake up next to her Mama too.”
Tossing the covers aside, he slowly dragged himself from the bed, crossed the room, and turned on the bedroom light. His eyes wandered back the bed where he’d spent 22 minutes making love to a woman that made him squeal twice. The sheets were a mess. It looked like he’d pissed in the bed three times: at the head, the foot, and center of the bed.
“Good times,” he said, stripping the bed. He would take the sheets downstairs and throw them in the washer. The mattress covering needed a good wash as well, so he added that to the pile. Whistling, he went for a shower.
IT WAS CLOSER TO 7:30 than he’d planned when Raphael came downstairs to start his morning coffee and take a walk out on his deck. At close to eight, he planned to call the Lodge and the Archangel. He heard a slight whimper and looked down to find Pierce Brosnan sitting at his heel wearing a doggy pajama top.
“I know, man. I have no idea how she found time to make you a dog wardrobe, make sandwiches, and cook me that yummy dinner,” he said, opening the patio door. “She also baked that cake from scratch because I don’t have any boxed mixes in this house. The shirt is cute, though.”
An incredibly happy Pierce ran down the stairs, found a bush, and loaded it down with yellow thoughts. He sniffed about the back yard and then made his way up the stairs to sit by Raphael’s feet. Initially, Raphael half expected the animal to run off, but it didn’t. As soon as he finished his coffee, he went to find kibble or food for the guy, since he, the cat with the hat, and Pierce were the only men in the house, they had to stick together.
Raphael located food for both animals, curious as to how she came by it, unless she drove to the store. While he was at it, he opened a pouch of kitten food, which smelled like a back room in a bordello in Bangkok. Daniel Craig was missing the hat, but he too had on a striped pajama top.
“Dudes, this just ain’t right,” he mumbled and set about making waffles with sausages that had crispy edges.
Turning the sausages, he dialed the lodge in North Carolina, upgrading the room to a suite and asking for one that allowed pets. It cost him an extra hundred bucks a night, but at least the animals wouldn’t need to go to pet day care while their family was away. He used his phone to add another task to the list: Get travel watering containers for the pets.
“Okay, that’s done,” he said, making the next call to the Archangel. Gabriel Neary answered on the third ring.
“You’re up early,” the Archangel said.
“Not much of a later sleeper, plus, I have things to do,” Raphael said. “You know why I’m calling. My last name is Hoyt. I spell Hotel. Oscar. Yankee, Tango.”
“I know how to spell your name. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I licked it, man. I licked it and liked it, and it made me squeal like a 10-year-old girl seeing a snake in the back yard,” Raphael said to a laughing Archangel. “I have never squealed in my life, so there’s that and I plan to keep it. Give it my name next week, so make sure you get that marriage license right.”
“Oh, you want me to perform the ceremony?”
“Yes, please and bring your wife,” he said softly. “I want her to have a bridal party and someone there to help get her dressed and put flowers in her hair and shit. Sorry. Excuse me, but yeah, I’m processing emotions and stuff.”
“And stuff?”
“I’m looking at renting a room and ordering a cake. If, and I’ll send you money and stuff, your wife will order nice flowers, maybe make Nate Jr, the ring bearer. One of the girls the flower girl. I want it to be nice, but I want it to be a surprise too,” he said.