Page 74 of Grave Curse

Roxie looked around at the never-ending sea of food. “Your math is good, babe. That doesn’t explain the seventy-two cupcakes or the four extra-large pans of lasagna that took nearly ten pounds of hamburger and Italian sausage, and I don’t even want to know how many pounds of cheese. You also have pumpkin pies and apple pies, and then there’s your birthday cake on top of that, as well as two ten-pound bags of candy. I know it’s a party, so it’s better to have too much than too little. But doesn’t this seem like a lot of food for fifty people?”

I scrunched my nose at her. “It probably would be way too much for fifty people. But this is an unofficial Gravedigger bash.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Rox. Bikers are a tough lot, and they’re stone-cold deadly when they have to be. But they turn into the whiniest group of five-year-olds when they’re left out of something, or when they’re hungry, and the majority of them are going to be right across the street from where we’re having this party.”

“Oh my God,truth, sister,” Misty said, dumping premade cans of white frosting into a bowl. “And you can’t serve them just any food, either, Roxie. Lasso is such a picky eater, the first year of our marriage I nearly walked out half a dozen times because he didn’t like what I’d made for dinner. Who the hell turns their nose up at red beans and rice and homemade cornbread? Who? I’ll tell you who. My husband, that’s who.”

“So,” Roxie said after the laughter had died down, “are you saying our little party tonight is going to have a few Gravedigger party-crashers?”

“More than a few.” Over at the wall-mounted oven, Mabel pulled out the first two pans of lasagna, carefully set them on the waiting racks to cool, then shoved in the last two pans and set the timer. Whee, awesome. I would check the lasagna off my list as soon as I found the stupid thing. “Like Ginger said, the party’s right across the street from the Gravedigger compound. Those boys are going to hear the music blaring and laughter ringingout, and then they’re going to hear from their brothers that there’s all this amazing homecooked food going on, and that’ll do it. I’d say we need to expect… oh, about eighty to a hundred guests flowing in and out of Vixen’s Den, give or take.”

I nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“Holy crap.” Wide-eyed, Roxie surveyed the room with new eyes. “Girls, are we sure we’re going to have enough?”

“Now you’re getting it.” I laughed and paused in my search long enough to give her a hug. “I want to thank you again for going to the shop with me before the butt-crack of dawn this morning and getting it all decorated. You’re the best, Rox.”

With a laugh, Roxie returned my hug with gusto. “Are you kidding? Not only did you buy me coffee and croissants, but I also got to act like a decorating influencer setting the scene for the ultimate Halloween birthday party. I had a ball.”

She was right about setting the scene. Thanks to Roxie’s decorative flair, the shop was almost unrecognizable. Every wall was covered in something—bloody handprints and splatters, crime scene tape, webbing with hundreds of spiders tangled up in it, and a well-lit selfie-slash-photo booth wall that we’d framed in decals of jack-o’-lanterns, red-eyed bats and a huge, glow-in-the-dark full moon. Overhead, orange, black and purple streamers mixed with about a zillion orange and purple twinkle lights. Orange and purple lighting also glowed from centerpieces on the rented tables, as well as all around the dance floor and stripper pole. It looked amazing, and I couldn’t wait to kick off the festivities.

“I can’t believe you pulled all this together so fast.” Beating the frosting until she liked its spreading consistency, Misty plopped her butt down on an island stool and grabbed for a Devil’s food cupcake. We’d decided to keep it simple since time was of the essence, so the cupcakes were to be decorated with the white frosting and sprinkled with black and orange jimmies.“Just think, it was only a handful of days ago that you were totally anti-party.”

“It was more a matter of being anti-twenty-nine,” I drawled, still looking for my list. I prowled over to where I’d set up my own ten-quart slow cooker, now bubbling away with a mixture of chili sauce, grape jelly and the meatballs I’d picked up at Costco. No list, but the meatballs made me smile. I’d tried out the odd recipe years ago for another party, and Tyr had gone crazy over it. Now I made it because he loved it, along with his favorite lasagna, beer, bags of pretzels, and party trays full of cheese and cold cuts…

“Oh, hell.” With an exasperated sigh, I left the meatballs and made a beeline for the fridge. Opening it up, I sighed again when I spied the little Hello Kitty journal sitting on top of the three extra-large round trays heaped with several pounds of cold cuts and cheeses. “Found my list in the damn fridge. See?” I swept around to face the room, dramatically brandishing the Hello Kitty journal while my girlies all laughed. “This is what it is to get old, you guys. I’m twenty-nine as of today, and right on cue I’m putting things like books in the refrigerator.”

“I think that has more to do with party preoccupation than early senility, girlfriend,” Shiloh remarked, stirring her queso. “And since I’m suffering from major pregnancy brain, I have no room to laugh. For instance, today I drove here using Romeo’s spare set of keys for my car. Why? Because I have no idea where mine are.”

“Check the fridge,” I advised, thumbing through the journal.

“Pregnancy brain is no joke,” Mabel offered while the others laughed. “Ashtray and I have been blessed with five kiddos, and I swear that with every birth, I lost a little more of my brain. At this point it’s a wonder I can even tie my shoes.”

“Who needs tie-up shoes when legs like yours look great in heels,” I told her, winking.

She blew me a kiss. “And this is why I love you.”

“Maybe you’re not preoccupied about the party, Ginger,” Misty said, and her sweetly innocent voice made me look up at her with growing alarm. “Maybe you have pregnancy brain, too.”

By God, I would kill her. Slowly. I was sure Tyr knew a place where I could hide the body.So sorry, Lasso, Misty was perfectly fine when I last saw her…

As if they’d rehearsed the move for years, everyone in the room turned in unison to stare at me.

Great.

“Pregnant?” Mabel closed in like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Pregnant, as in you’re seeing someone? As in, you’re seeing someone and it’s serious enough to get you preggers? And you didn’t tell any of us about it?”

“Oh, you know Ginger, she’s not like that. If anything, she’s a total overshare girl.” With a nervous laugh that sounded fake even to my ears, Roxie adjusted her apron and gestured toward the journal I held. “So, um, what does Hello Kitty have to say about our progress? Aren’t there veggies or something we have to clean and cut for a tray?”

“Screw the veggies, I’m sensing some serious tea about to be spilled.” All eyes, Shiloh also moved closer. “Come on, Ginger, tell us. Are you joining Ana-Sofia and me in the baby races?”

“I’m trying to join, too,” Misty offered, then shot me a wicked grin. “Just like you, right, Ginger?”

Seriously, she had to die. “As it happens, since I’m clearly not getting any younger, I am trying to get pregnant while I still can.” There. Noncommittal, with no specifics. Nothing wrong with that.

Of course that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy my posse.

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