Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (6 page)

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” I throw my hands out and shrug before turning and grabbing a cloth. “It’s seven thirty in the morning, there’s a box full of demons and devils on my doorstep, and my hysterical mother cannot focus on one subject.”

“Ahhh, Wednesday. You’re so much like Monday,” Drake snorts.

“You wanna join the shit list? Huh, big guy? ’Cause you will. I’ll put you right”—I whip him with the cloth—“at”—and again—“the”—and again—“top!”

He mimes zipping his lips and leans against the sink.

“Cancel the party!” Mom exclaims.

“Are you kidding?” I exclaim right back. “I’ve worked my cute butt off on this fucking party I didn’t want to organize, and now, you want me to cancel it?”

“It is the easy solution,” Drake offers.

“Who’s side are you on?”

“Rationality’s.”

“You’re dating a Bond! There’s no such thing as rational!”

“True,” Mom agrees with me. “Especially not the Bond women.”

“Are you saying I’m just like Nonna?” I turn on her, my cloth flying with my movement.

She looks pointedly at the cloth.

“Oh, please! Kiss my ass!”

“Noelle!” she snaps.

“Fine. I’ll cancel the party. Amelia will probably dance naked under the moonlight with joy because she doesn’t want it, but guess who I’m blaming when I tell Nonna?”

Mom shrugs. “She’s already plotting my demise. What’s one more thing?”

I pause. “True. I just want it known that the planning was accidental and no one told me while I was working to keep the town safe.”

“From wandering penises and excitable vaginas?” Drake asks, frowning.

“Who’s side are you on?” Mom asks, echoing my statement from a moment ago.

“Whoever will guarantee me sex tonight.”

Mom slaps his upper arm. “Drake Nash! I’m tellin’ your mama.”

Drake’s mama.

Mom and I both turn to face each other, moving slowly. My lips tug to one side; hers move to the other. It’s like a thousand light bulbs are pinging with brightness above our heads.

Nonna loves Gianna. Like,
loves
her.

And Gianna loves me.

Bingo.

“I need a vacation,” Drake mutters before finishing his coffee. “Y’all are corruptin’ my family.”

It’s been ten minutes since Nonna started her ranting. Ten long minutes since Gianna broke the news about the bachelorette party and Nonna started to tell anyone and everyone how it was total blasphemy that Halloween came above the celebration of an impending wedding.

“Nonna!” I cut through her tirade. “They’re not getting married until next year! It’s not like we have no time to re-plan.”

“Yeah,” Amelia agrees. “Besides”—she pauses to tuck some hair behind her ear—“I love Halloween. It’s always been one of my favorite holidays.”

“So much that you forgot the date?” Brody asks, frowning as he delves into a bag of chips.

She shoots him a look that could kill, despite her usually quiet disposition. “I was told the final Saturday of October. I didn’t realize it was Halloween.”

Everyone’s eyes slide to me. Except Nonna’s. Her lips are pursed, and she’s staring at the ceiling.

“You!” I cry, standing and pointing at her. “You knew, you damned witch!”

Nonna gasps, clutching her neck. “I did-a not!”

“Liar! You checked the date and let me do it anyway, although you knew I was busy!”

She doesn’t respond.

“Nonna,” Gianna says slowly. “Did you?”

Nonna folds her arms like a stubborn four-year-old and refuses to answer. In itself, that is our answer. I know how to read her like a book, and she definitely picked up on my mistake.

In my defense, I can never remember if Halloween is the thirtieth or the thirty-first, so it’s not all on me.

I grab a banana from the fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen table and throw it at her. She only just misses it with a deft sidestep, but I keep glaring at her until she finally shrugs.

“
Si,
” she sighs. “I-a did.”

Brody rolls his eyes and shoves three cheesy Doritos in his mouth. “Everyone is surprised, Nonna.”

“Brodes,” I snap. “Manners!”

He flips me the bird.

Asshole.

I throw a banana at him too.

He catches it, breaks the top, peels it, then takes a giant bite of it.

I don’t even know he finished his mouthful of Doritos. Maybe he didn’t. Who knows? He’s still five at heart. He’s worse than I am.

“Nonna!” Amelia gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. She wipes a fake tear away from under her eye with her other hand, and I fight my smirk at the way her hand shakes. “I can’t believe you’d keep that to yourself! I trusted y’all to do this for me although I didn’t want one. You know I love Halloween. Why didn’t you say something?”

Nonna’s eyes immediately widen. “Oh, Amelia!” She frames her own face with her wrinkled fingers. “I did-a not-a know-a how much you-a loved the holiday!
Mi dispiace
!”

I sit back and clasp my hands in my lap. This will be interesting. Amelia is putting on her horrified act, and Nonna’s putting on her innocent, apologetic act.

Who’ll win? Only time will tell…

“It’s okay,” Amelia says quietly, looking down. “I know how much it means to you, so we can keep it the same date, if you’d prefer.”

“She’s good,” Gianna whispers in my ear.

I give her a side-eye and nod.

“Oh,
merda
!” Nonna slams her hand against the arm of her chair. “You-a love-a Halloween that-a much-a?”

“It’s my favorite holiday,” Amelia replies quietly. “I love the fun of dressing up.”

Brody flits his eyes between both women. The chip bag crinkles as he dives his hand inside it and produces another handful of orange, cheesy triangles.

“Ahhh…” Nonna presses her fingertips to her lips and looks over Amelia’s head, out the window.

“Who’s going to squeal?” Gianna whispers in my ear.

I shrug a shoulder. “No idea. Amelia’s never argued with her.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Nonna sighs. “I was-a so-a excited for-a the party.”

“Me too!” Amelia bites her lower lip. “But I just didn’t know. I’m sorry, Nonna, but it’s like Noelle said—there’s a ton of time left, right?”

“It-a goes so-a fast!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. I had a great night planned with my friends and Devin and everyone, and to find this out is so…shocking!”

“
Si
!” Nonna cries.

“I knew you’d understand that!” Amelia throws her arm out in Nonna’s direction. “So many plans, and for what? I have no idea about the bachelorette party—what’s happening? I don’t know! It’s a surprise! I’m not prepared for this!”

On cue, she hyperventilates.

“Shit,” Gianna whispers.

“Mhmm,” I murmur.

Brody crunches on more Doritos.

“
Cazzo
!” Nonna gets up and hurries to Amelia. She clasps her face in her hands. “We-a postpone! Calm-a down, Amelia! It-a is-a okay!”

“Really?” Amelia huffs through short, sharp breaths. “Are you sure?”

“
Si, si
!”

“Oh, thank you!” Amelia sits back, her hand on her chest, breathing much more steadily than a moment ago.

Nonna doesn’t even notice as she insists on standing and going to make ten pounds of tomato soup for everyone, complete with fresh bread.

We don’t argue as she toddles out of the room, muttering to herself.

If there’s one thing Nonna hates more than Halloween, it’s the fact that a future grandbaby-bearer could be so distraught. She’s totally certain that one’s mood is directly linked to one’s ability to procreate, so God forbid anger erode a precious egg that will probably die before it even gets spat out of an ovary.

I mean, it’s not like we have millions and millions of those things.

“Nicely done,” Gianna praises Amelia.

“Thank you.” Amelia smiles back at her.

I share a look with Brody, and then we both say, “Welcome to the family, sister.”

And it doesn’t even feel wrong.

Saturday night just got fun.

“I
t’s better than the hooker.”

I roll my eyes and meet Bek’s gaze in the mirror. “Ask Nonna.”

“She’s going to kill you.”

“Nah.” I smooth my hands over the red material hugging my waist. “Nonna will take one look at me, scream a prayer in Italian, and run away.”

“And then throw holy water over you.”

“Try to stake me.”

“Chuck garlic cloves at you.”

“Shower me with salt.” I shrug. “It’ll be worth it for the look on her face.”

“How did your mom take it that Drake had to work at the last minute?” Bek runs the flat iron over her bangs.

I purse my lips and reach for my lipstick. “Yes. He has to work.”

We successfully pulled off the heist of the century approximately six hours ago. My mom refused to budge on the costumes, giving me every possible excuse about why we couldn’t change it. The stores were all out, the other best ones were already being done, it was family tradition…

You name it. She used it.

So we made a snap decision over coffee this morning and told some little white lies. He has to work, but he’s actually attending the party dressed up as…himself.

I decided to join Bek as a classic: a devil.

Mostly, I just want to mess with Nonna a little more, and I figure that, this way, if Drake and I get caught, Mom won’t mind so much.

That and she’ll be too busy dealing with the craziness of Nonna to even notice.

“She’s going to kill you,” Bek says again.

“I know.” I take the devil horns from her and put them on my head. Then I turn and pout. “Is this enough? Should I go the whole way and draw a pentagram on my head or something?”

“That might be too much.” She giggles. “Come on, Satan. Let’s go freak out your grandmother.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” I mutter under my breath, grabbing my shoes by the heels and following her out.

“You need to pull that dress down.” Drake grabs the hem of my dress and tugs it down. “I’m pretty sure you just flashed me your thong.”

I look over my shoulder and reach down, basically feeling up my own ass. “It’s fine. You’re just perving on me.”

“I’m always perving on you. It’s like my own personal hobby.”

“It’s scary.”

“Suck it up, cupcake. I can perv on you if I want to. I’m your
lover
.” He grins, flicking his tongue against my ear.

I cringe and push him away. “That’s vile. Go away.”

He laughs. “Has Nonna seen your costume yet? I have to say, it’s scarily…fitting.”

“Are you trying to say I’m the spawn of Satan?”

“I’d believe the horror in your voice was genuine if I hadn’t heard you refer to yourself as the devil on more than one occasion.”

Damn his stupid memory.

“Then this isn’t a costume,” I say.

“No. Just your uniform.”

“Look at that. We couple-coordinated our outfits after all.”

He grins at me then drops his head. His shoulders tremble, and the low rumble of his restrained laughter finds its way to my ears.

“Don’t go yellin’ that around,” he says, fighting the laughter. “I don’t want your mom to hear.”