Mari

I bolt up from a dead sleep and blink over at the clock that reads two a.m when the phone rings, piercing the silence and dragging a groan from Gray before he reaches over to answer it.

We’ve spent the last weeks following the Evil’s around while they brought the hotel thing to a close and proved-to my disgust-that they know more about decorating than I care to admit.

Honestly, the place looks great and is almost ready for opening and I am so glad to finally be getting out from under Char and ma that-

“Shit. Okay, man. No, we’re on the way, Blay. Hang tight and breathe bro, we’ll be there soon,” Gray says, dropping the phone on the bed as pure panic hits me.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

I don’t know why but my brain always shies away from the normal emergency scenarios and goes straight to serial killer whenever I get panicked.

You don’t get it? Well see, when I was younger I always defied ma and her age restrictions when it came to T.V. It was so bad we had a screaming match when I was seven, demanding to watch Friday the Thirteenth. Ma being ma…she sat me down with a smile that still makes my nuts shrink and forced me to watch three of those suckers in a row.

Scared me so badly that when the phone rang and it turned out it was the hospital calling to tell us about uncle Otis getting hit by a truck…look, I was young. Now every time something happens my mind goes to Jason freaking Voorhees!

It’s irrational but no one ever accused me of being normal.

“Tink went into labour.”

I’m half-dressed and ready to run all the way to the hospital before he’s done talking, and still, he’s ready before me and taking the stairs two at a time as we barrel into the elevator and start praying for all we’re worth.

She’ll be okay. It’s only a few weeks early right? That’s not too bad. Right? But I can’t stop shaking even as Gray gets me into the car and floors it into the night, his face set in lines of worry even as he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, trying to reassure me.

“It’s okay. They’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

But I’m still scared an hour later as we all hug the wall outside Ginny’s room and listen to her panting wails as Blay curses and Lizzie’s face goes stark white.

I’m even more terrified when I hear her yell ‘This is all wrong! My muffin hurts! Do something Blain!’

And then everything goes quiet which is so weird I see Ing blanch and Ian reach for a pack of cigarettes before Lizzie slaps his head and grabs them away.

“I will call Father O’Leary!”

“For what? Pretty sure the old goat is too late to rescue me Lizzie dear,” he drawls, making me snicker before Lizzie grins and curls her lip.

“Last rights, Egan. He’ll be doing last rights after I get done, boyo!”

That shuts Ian up real quick and we all sit there worrying for the next two hours before Cece comes running in with Uncle Stevie on her heals, his maroon suit and peach shirt pulled tight over his swaying gut.

By the time they stop Stevie is panting, hands on his knees as his hair strings flap sideways Kingpin style, reminding me of Bill Murray, and Cece looks ragged.

“How is she?”

Just then Ginny let’s off a wail that makes my soul shudder and poor Rox jumps so high she almost plants on her ass before Ty reaches out to grab her.

“Oh dear.”

“My ass! This is karma. I was in labour for sixteen hours!” Lizzie barks making us all roll our eyes because Uncle Ian already told us all about how she was primping her hair waiting for the doctors when Ginny just slid out while the nurse was down their checking on things.

I say it’s because of Ian’s anaconda because daaaamn if that thing didn’t loosen her bolts but good nothing will…

“You shut your yapper, Mari! It was a hard labour I tell ya,” she insists, getting a chortle from Ian that cuts off when her red eye swings around to meet his gaze.

Gray just grunts but I see his lip twitch when Ian shakes his head and opens his hands to illustrate the size of Lizzie and then points to his snake.

That is all we need and I hose along with the others while ma huffs and glares at us all.

“She’s lyin’. She sneezed and it was all over. I-”

“Got a C-section because you shit yourself on the bed when you had a contraction. Literally! I saw the turd, Ro,” she yells back, making me cringe, and thank God I didn’t have to face that while crawling from the depths of hell better known as Rowena Byrd’s snatch.

To this day is still wonder what that doctor saw when he got inside ma-

“Dammit, Mari, you’re talking out loud,” Gray mutters out the side of his mouth, fighting more amusement.

Me not so much since ma is now going hell demon with the glares and Lizzie is chortling so hard she grabs her ass, which has Ian sucking on his lips to keep from laughing.

“I’m still mad at you, Marionetta, so if I were you I’d zip it girlie.”

I do. Not because I’m scared, really I’m not, I am so used to looking into her hellish eyes and seeing lost souls floating there I’m immune. Nah, I just can’t find the will to rag on her because I’m shit scared right now and hanging onto a thread.

That is until the rest of the freaking family shows up-getting us escorted to a waiting area since we’re over twenty strong at this point-and I have to stop Gray from pissing himself when Fi sits down and gives us all a glory shot.

One thing I can say about strippers? They know how to trim the area. Well. Unfortunately for us all Fi’s beef jerky has seen a lot of use and actually looks like beef jerky.

“Anyone want a pastrami sandwich?” Ing yells, making Rus choke so hard the poor guy turns purple while Fiona seems confused.

I myself am completely relaxed until Lizzie looks over and spots the rogue creepers in all their pink glory and freezes, her eye twitching comically.

Lizzie must be going through a lot of stress because she doesn’t say a word, just puts her face in her hands and shakes her head.

“Dammit, I thought for sure-” Gray whines, getting my elbow for his efforts.

“Dear God, Fiona, I can see your money maker,” Char yells, coming in for a closer look. “Veet?”

Even Sweet Pete can’t keep himself together after that because Fi finally realizes she’s giving the show for free and sighs, closing her pins with a huff.

“Sugaring, Char. It’s hell on the old mud flaps but my Pete likes it sweet!”

*******************

 “Did it hurt?”

It’s eleven in the morning and I am officially on a caffeine buzz as I stand over little Belinda Imogen George, taking in every perfect inch of her face and the unmistakable resemblance she bears to Blay.

It’s a hoot that her initials are BIG and we’ve all already started calling her Little Big, despite Lizzie’s fuming and Cece’s hysterics about teasing when she’s older.

I love it. It’s unique and funny and just perfect but more than that I love that Blay and Ginny are so happy that they glow despite their exhaustion. I was so worried as the hours wore on but I should have known God would come through for us because not only is this girlie huge and fully formed thanks to her papa’s genes buts she gave her mama an easy go of it according to a very relieved Blay.

Apparently Ginny’s screaming wasn’t all about pain but rather the fact that a nurse was trying to shave her snatch, which she took exception to. Don’t ask because I still don’t get how she can be down with a chick shoving her fingers up there but go nuts when she brought out a razor.

Or maybe I can now that I think of it.

Been there and nicked the delicates before. That shit hurts and no freaking way would I trust another bitch to bring a blade near my junk. They got her to stop yelling when Blay scrammed them out and did it himself because according to my insane friend ‘Blay likes my muffin so much he wouldn’t dare hurt her.’ We all laughed at that one, especially when Blay hummed his agreement and got shot down because yeah, it might take Gin a while to get over having a massive kid slide out of her naughty parts.

But back to the baby. She’s gorgeous and perfect and just seeing her makes me want to bust out and cry because yeah, I have one in me and as cool as it seems, it scares me stupid. Look at this kid right. She’s so oblivious to it all but I’d be terrified if I was her because unbeknownst to her she has three devil’s spawn breathing all over her as we speak, their unholy eyes probably sizing her up for a broom stick or something.

And odds are, with my luck, Glorietta’s getting a doppelganger in a few months. Stupid genetics.

“It was terrifyingly painful and then it wasn’t,” Ginny answers, pulling me out of visions of babies that look like a red haired Danny Devito.

“Bullshit. I bet you were ready to kill Blay when the head started crowning. I bet you wished you were born a boy. With a penis.”

“Roxaletta Crocker, you mind yourself. We woman are lucky.”

“Oh yeah, Liz? Do tell. What is so ever lovingly awesome about having a ten pound wriggling bowling ball crawl its way out of your vagina, ‘cause from where I’m sitting, standing up to pee and taking a pass on labour sure sounds good,” Ing drawls, making Ginny’s lips twitch because sure as hell, Lizzie goes blood red and seems at a loss for once in her life.

“Er…”

Gray chooses that moment to walk in after being side-lined into a business call just before we all stormed the room in search of reassurance that Ginny was alright and to see the baby of course, and comes over to stand beside me.

His arm comes over my shoulder and for some stupidly insane reason every single one of my worries just melts away, leaving me in his arms, feeling safe, loved and freaking hopeful for some schmucky reason.

Dammit, this love thing is gonna come back to bite me in the ass, I just know it.