Part 2 (2/2)

Nina growled. Growled.

There was a grunt, which Phoebe determined was a warning from Sam the Drag Queen. He waved a limp hand at her and shook his head in the negative-with vigor. ”Don't do it,” he mouthed, his eyes wide and wary when he set her almost behind his big, sparkly body.

Like a warning from some silly man in a dress and heels was going to keep her from defending an absolutely unwarranted label like crackpot.

The h.e.l.l.

Nina parted the women with her hands and narrowed eyes before stomping toward Phoebe in a clunk of worn work boots and heavy footsteps. G.o.d, how had she ended up with such an in-your-face fas.h.i.+on nightmare like Nina for a sister? ”You wanna repeat that s.h.i.+t to my face?”

She fought the urge to blink her eyes when she realized she could see every pore in Nina's strangely pale face with the kind of clarity only the best cosmetic magnifying mirror allowed. Instead, she poked her head around Sam's body and shot back, ”Did I stutter?”

There was a snort of m.u.f.fled laughter and an exclamation of ”Hoo-boy” that followed from behind Nina's back before a hasty shuffle of feet as the other two women came to stand beside Nina, their stances indicating they were preparing to hold her back.

”I don't know about you, Marty, but I see a family resemblance right in the area of Phoebe's big, antagonistic mouth. You?” Wanda asked over top of Nina's head.

”Yeah,” Marty agreed, thoughtful. ”Definitely. That and her eyes. Same shape as our fair Nina's, just a different color. Beautiful, don't you agree, Wanda?”

Nina's lips smacked and her dark eyes narrowed. With clenched fists, she gave her friends the eye. ”Quit sleeping with the enemy, you two. And as for you, b.u.t.tercup, nope. You didn't stutter, but you can bet your designer a.s.s when I'm done breaking your Barbie jaw you'll stutter. While you scoop your teeth off the floor, that is.”

A spike of anger shot along Phoebe's spine. Oh, really? She put her hands together and cracked her knuckles. It was always better to loosen up before an impending fistfight. Especially if another girl was involved. Their jaws were usually much less fleshy than a man's and could possibly cause damage to the fine bones in her hand.

Not a risk she was willing to take. Being a personal stylist new to the scene meant you carried a lot of bags to your clients.

Knowing her next question would garner an unfavorable, possibly violent response from Nina, Phoebe didn't think twice when she asked, ”Are you threatening me, sister?”

There was a glimmer of surprise in Nina's eyes before she lunged at Phoebe with a snarling growl. A lunge not only did Sam react too late for but one Phoebe sidestepped much more quickly than she'd ever considered herself capable of. And in three-inch-heel boots, too.

Looking down at Nina as she tripped and stumbled before righting herself, Phoebe thought, Ya still got it, Reynolds.

”Nina!” the two women yelped, rus.h.i.+ng Nina and latching on to her arms with white-knuckled grips while she all but foamed at the mouth.

Phoebe sauntered toward her, ignoring the crazy buzz in her head and the painfully sharp noise the sc.r.a.pe of her boot heels to the floor made in her ears. And she ignored Sam, who clutched her arm and hissed in her ear, ”Danger, Will Robinson, danger!”

She rolled her head on her neck, placing her face inches from Nina's. Their eyes met. Nina's glazed with ire. Phoebe's dripping with a challenge. ”Wow. Are you ever a tight a.s.s. You'll take years off your life that way. Not to mention the wrinkles you'll acc.u.mulate from frowning so much.”

Marty's nod was of vigorous agreement, the s.h.i.+mmery highlights of her blond hair glinting in the dimly lit room. ”You know, Phoebe, I tell her that all the time. But does she listen? Noooo. She's all venom and fury. I'm Marty Flaherty, in case you missed it the first time. We met earlier before you ... well, before ...” She smiled, then frowned when the elegantly dressed woman chastised her with just one searing glance.

Between clenched teeth, the woman who wore a slim chocolate brown skirt and silk blouse said, ”Marty? Shut it.” Yanking at Nina's arm, she gave it a jerk. ”Nina? Stand down or I'll take you down. This is a new blouse and I won't have it ruined because you behave like a two-year-old. I'm Wanda Jefferson, Phoebe. One of the easily riled Nina's BFFs. And don't look so shocked. I'd bet even Hannibal Lecter had a best friend. A vegetarian, no doubt.”

Wanda gave Nina a hard shove toward a dining area where there were chairs around a long rectangular table. ”Now, we're all going to sit like ladies and gentleman and figure this out. This being the thing that wouldn't have happened if you weren't such a bully, Nina Blackman-Statleon.”

Phoebe was taken aback by Nina's last name. Statleon? ”You're married?” To what?

Wanda clamped her hands on Phoebe's shoulders with a solid grip and ushered her to a chair at the opposite end of the table from Nina. ”She is. And when her husband Greg gets back from Boca and finds out what's happened, h.e.l.l will surely rain down upon us all. We were already skating on thin ice with our men and this OOPS thing. Your predicament will only make things worse.”

Nina dropped her fist on the table, making the beautiful copper candelabra in the center shake. ”The h.e.l.l I'll take the flack for this, Wanda. She started this bulls.h.i.+t when she declared herself kin. No kin of mine dresses like that,” she snapped with a wave at Phoebe's white shawl, now askew on her shoulders.

Phoebe slid into a chair and clucked her tongue, refusing to give in to the wobble of her knees and the almost desperate growling of her stomach. ”No. I don't suspect they would dress in anything other than pelts in Neanderthal-topia, would they?”

Marty was up and holding Nina down before Phoebe's brain could process her movement. She leaned over the back of the chair and whispered, ”Stay loose, pal-or we're going to have a head-to-head. I just had my hair done, and much like Wanda, I'm not up for wrecking a perfectly good hair day. Now down, Nina-nator.” She gave her a final pat on the shoulder, then turned to Sam and waved him over with a smile. ”Sam? Join us, would you?”

With a weak grunt, Sam kicked off his cracked high heels and went to a chair next to Phoebe's, tugging hard at his dress so it would fall to the tops of his thighs.

Phoebe couldn't help but notice his stride was anything but feminine despite his dress and garish makeup. In fact, his build was downright manly. He was clearly still in the awkward, I-want-to-dress-like-a-woman-but-I-have-no-idea-how-not-to-let-my-knuckles-drag-on-the-floor phase of his cross-dressing.

Wanda stood at the head of the table and clapped her hands. The sound pinged in Phoebe's head, making her wince and run her fingers over her temple. Every sound and smell was so magnified it almost hurt.

”People, we have a lot of ground to cover, and time is of the essence. We clearly have a situation. So, in the vein of waste not, want not, and in light of the fact that Phoebe's proven to be quite the spitfire, I'm going to go with my gut and take it for granted that she'll handle her current state with the same set of jingle bells she confronted Nina with.”

Phoebe frowned. Hold the phone. What was her current state? And why did she need jingle bells to handle it? Oh, she had nads all right. Nads she wasn't afraid to let drop from her frilly underclothes when the situation presented itself. But why would she need them other than to deal with her sister, who was quite obviously not taking the information that she had a sibling well? Phoebe shuddered at the very thought that she hadn't even had time to tell Nina everything ...

As the fragmented pieces of not just her unfamiliar surroundings but the snippets of conversation she'd heard before she'd burst through OOPS's door sank in, she began to experience a rise of slow panic. Though she wasn't necessarily afraid of these women and the pretty boy, she wasn't unafraid, either. Phoebe cast a dubious glance at Wanda and raised her hand.

Wanda generously gave her the floor with the sweep of her hand.

The fear her confusion stirred began to rear its ugly head, and it was an effort to keep a calm facade. ”Can you explain the bit about my current state? I'm a little unclear about what that means. And for that matter, how did I get here, and what happened to me that I can't remember leaving your offices?”

Nina snorted from her end of the table and cracked her knuckles. ”You got here because I flew you here.”

Phoebe eyed Nina, making her irritation clear. ”Aren't you the Jeff Foxworthy of Unevolved Village?”

A hand snaked around her neck and clamped over her mouth. Pulling her toward him, Sam whispered in her ear, sending an unexpected thrill of goose b.u.mps over her skin. The hard shelter of his chest had certain rugged properties to it she found incredibly inviting. ”For the last time, some advice. Shut your pretty mouth. I beg of you. Listen closely. Or you will pay. I have seen. This is your final courtesy warning.”

Phoebe placed her hands on his forearm, a strong, muscled forearm indeed, and yanked with more force than she intended. ”Put your hand on my mouth again, and we'll see who pays, America's Next Drag Queen. Now, where were we? Oh, right. I was waiting on the answer to why I'm here and how I got here. The real answer.” She shot a glare at Nina filled with irate disapproval.

Nina leaned back in her chair and threw her feet up on the table with a bored look. ”I say we just have at her, Wanda. You know, seeing as her love eggs are all sc.r.a.ping the ground.”

Wanda sighed and paused as though she was taking care in her next words. And then she spoke, her gaze meeting Nina's. ”I don't say it often, but I say you're right. Let's do this.”

”Oh. Jesus,” Sam muttered, running a hand over his matted black hair.

Wanda's words sounded like a challenge. Never one to back down from a challenge, even when she didn't exactly know what the challenge was, Phoebe threw down the gauntlet, ignoring Sam's clear hesitations. ”Fine. Let's do this.”

NOTE to self. From this day forward, be far more careful when hurling metaphoric gauntlets around so carelessly. d.a.m.n her and her compet.i.tive streak.

Phoebe fought the urge to run screaming from Nina's house, er, castle. Not that having the adjective of her location made what she'd just seen any easier to swallow.

Forcing herself to sit upright in the chair, Phoebe made herself look these women in the eye-these crazy, crazy, mentally unstable, in desperate need of a psyche ward women. ”So let me get this straight. When I fell on Tyra Banks-”

”Hey!” Sam tapped her shoulder from behind, his voice a gravelly sin upon her ears. ”I'm really coming to resent that. I'm not fancy, and I'm not a drag queen. I went to a costume party dressed like this, okay? And I think wearing a dress says a little something about how secure I am in my manhood. So lay off, lady. I'm just as bent about this as you are. You're not the only noob vampire in the room. This isn't just about you, sweetheart, and it doesn't help when you call names. Now knock it off.”

Phoebe waved him away, suddenly incredibly hot and irritable. ”Fine. When I fell on the manliest man I've ever fallen on in my entire thirty-three years, or should I say, when I was so rudely backed into a corner and fell on him, because his tooth pierced my skin-”

”Your a.s.s, cookie. He bit that big booty-Judy you got.” Nina cackled, cracking her knuckles.

Phoebe tried to clench her jaw but ran amok when her new fangs clashed together. As much as she'd like to prove to Nina she could take whatever she doled out, right now, she had some pretty pressing issues. Like no more coconut macaroons or blueberry cheesecake. Ever. It was cause for deep sorrow. ”So that meant I automatically became a vampire, too?”

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