In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) by A.W. Hartoin Page B
Authors: A.W. Hartoin
Ads: Link
Trio perked up.
“He’s got shit to do, saving your butt and what all. I sit all day anyway.” He patted the laptop bag at his feet. “I’m gonna work and keep an eye on you. I ain’t even getting out of this limo when we get there.”
Bridget nodded, her bobbed hair swinging wildly. “It’s a two-hour ride. We can get lots done. What’ve you been thinking?”
“Um…what?” I asked.
“For the wedding. I want to hear all your ideas.”
A mischievous grin spread across Uncle Morty’s face and he cracked his knuckles. “Let’s have it, Mercy. What are your ideas?”
You and me, fat man. One of these days, I will—
“I brought these,” said Sorcha as she dropped a pile of bride magazines in my lap. Then her voice hardened, “From when I was maid of honor.”
Oh, lord. I am so going to get taped.
“Ow, um, thanks.”
Uncle Morty got out his laptop. “I’m sure Mercy has been through all…seventeen of those freaking awesome magazines. Since she’s not dating my wizard anymore, she has lots of time to focus on the wedding.”
And there it is. I’m being punished.
Jilly lacquered her thin lips with a layer of gloss and eyed me over her mirror. “You were dating a wizard?”
“My wizard,” said Uncle Morty.
“I thought you were dating a doctor,” said Sorcha, wistfully.
“She was,” said Bridget and then she lowered her voice like someone could overhear, “Then she kissed Chuck on that porny video. Don’t worry, Mercy. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t mind what?” I asked.
“Well, you’re notorious. But my mom says you’ll lend a kind of je ne sais quoi to the wedding and that’s good.”
“Er…”
“Je ne sais quoi translates to I don’t know what,” said Uncle Morty with his big hairy hands poised over his keyboard. “Come to think about it, that’s pretty accurate.”
“That’s not what it means,” I said.
“It does when they’re talking about you. Who knows what you’ll add to that freaking wedding.”
I sneered. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome for ruining my life.”
“Right back at you.”
I had not ruined Uncle Morty’s life any more than he had ruined mine. I made a mistake. I kissed the hell out of Chuck. It was caught on video, which wasn’t porny by the way, and my then boyfriend, Pete, saw it. He dumped me and his Dungeons and Dragons cronies a.k.a. Uncle Morty. Pete was their wizard and apparently irreplaceable.
Morty pressed the intercom. “What the hell’s the holdup? I got four women back here and no booze.”
The back door opened and Dad leaned in. “I got it.” He handed me a pizza box from Louie’s with a rank smell coming out of it. “Have a good time, girls.”
Dad slammed the door, thumped the roof, and the limo started rolling.
Morty grabbed the pizza box, dropped it in Jilly’s lap, she only squawked a little, and lifted the lid. Noxious fumes rolled out and Jilly recoiled. Sausage, anchovy, and onion. Extra onion by the look of it.
Uncle Morty rubbed his hands together and said to me, “And now we’re even.”
Gag.
Chapter Six
TWO HOURS IN a limo sounds like cake, except we didn’t have cake. We had an obese fantasy writer, a stinky pizza, the air-conditioning on high because said writer was hot, and the constant clatter of typing. The muttering and cursing didn’t help either.
I didn’t think this would ever happen, but, after an hour and a half, I turned to Sorcha and said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She glanced at Morty, who was muttering something about a freaking dwarf. “It’s not your fault.”
“It kinda is.”
“It’s okay. We’re family.” Then she grinned at me, popping out the famous Watts dimples. “Besides, we brought duct tape.”
I winced.
“I’m kidding.”
Jilly shook her head. “She’s not.”
Bridget plopped a magazine in my lap. “So we’ve agreed?”
I nodded when
“He’s got shit to do, saving your butt and what all. I sit all day anyway.” He patted the laptop bag at his feet. “I’m gonna work and keep an eye on you. I ain’t even getting out of this limo when we get there.”
Bridget nodded, her bobbed hair swinging wildly. “It’s a two-hour ride. We can get lots done. What’ve you been thinking?”
“Um…what?” I asked.
“For the wedding. I want to hear all your ideas.”
A mischievous grin spread across Uncle Morty’s face and he cracked his knuckles. “Let’s have it, Mercy. What are your ideas?”
You and me, fat man. One of these days, I will—
“I brought these,” said Sorcha as she dropped a pile of bride magazines in my lap. Then her voice hardened, “From when I was maid of honor.”
Oh, lord. I am so going to get taped.
“Ow, um, thanks.”
Uncle Morty got out his laptop. “I’m sure Mercy has been through all…seventeen of those freaking awesome magazines. Since she’s not dating my wizard anymore, she has lots of time to focus on the wedding.”
And there it is. I’m being punished.
Jilly lacquered her thin lips with a layer of gloss and eyed me over her mirror. “You were dating a wizard?”
“My wizard,” said Uncle Morty.
“I thought you were dating a doctor,” said Sorcha, wistfully.
“She was,” said Bridget and then she lowered her voice like someone could overhear, “Then she kissed Chuck on that porny video. Don’t worry, Mercy. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t mind what?” I asked.
“Well, you’re notorious. But my mom says you’ll lend a kind of je ne sais quoi to the wedding and that’s good.”
“Er…”
“Je ne sais quoi translates to I don’t know what,” said Uncle Morty with his big hairy hands poised over his keyboard. “Come to think about it, that’s pretty accurate.”
“That’s not what it means,” I said.
“It does when they’re talking about you. Who knows what you’ll add to that freaking wedding.”
I sneered. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome for ruining my life.”
“Right back at you.”
I had not ruined Uncle Morty’s life any more than he had ruined mine. I made a mistake. I kissed the hell out of Chuck. It was caught on video, which wasn’t porny by the way, and my then boyfriend, Pete, saw it. He dumped me and his Dungeons and Dragons cronies a.k.a. Uncle Morty. Pete was their wizard and apparently irreplaceable.
Morty pressed the intercom. “What the hell’s the holdup? I got four women back here and no booze.”
The back door opened and Dad leaned in. “I got it.” He handed me a pizza box from Louie’s with a rank smell coming out of it. “Have a good time, girls.”
Dad slammed the door, thumped the roof, and the limo started rolling.
Morty grabbed the pizza box, dropped it in Jilly’s lap, she only squawked a little, and lifted the lid. Noxious fumes rolled out and Jilly recoiled. Sausage, anchovy, and onion. Extra onion by the look of it.
Uncle Morty rubbed his hands together and said to me, “And now we’re even.”
Gag.
Chapter Six
TWO HOURS IN a limo sounds like cake, except we didn’t have cake. We had an obese fantasy writer, a stinky pizza, the air-conditioning on high because said writer was hot, and the constant clatter of typing. The muttering and cursing didn’t help either.
I didn’t think this would ever happen, but, after an hour and a half, I turned to Sorcha and said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She glanced at Morty, who was muttering something about a freaking dwarf. “It’s not your fault.”
“It kinda is.”
“It’s okay. We’re family.” Then she grinned at me, popping out the famous Watts dimples. “Besides, we brought duct tape.”
I winced.
“I’m kidding.”
Jilly shook her head. “She’s not.”
Bridget plopped a magazine in my lap. “So we’ve agreed?”
I nodded when
Similar Books
