Page 56 of Having the Time of My Midlife

“You will play the games,” he demanded with a sly little smirk playing on his lips. “You must win all of them to walk away with the silver box.”

“And if we don’t?” I question flatly.

If he didn’t like my tone, he didn’t show it. “Then I win the box and what’s inside.”

“I call bullshit,” I said, as canned gasps came through the speakers. I rolled my eyes and stood my ground. “The games are rigged.”

Fake Bob feigned surprise. No one was buying what he was selling. “Now why would you say that, Daisy?” he questioned, pouting. “You seem to be holding a grudge against me. So unnecessary and not to your benefit.”

I shrugged and smiled. My smile threw him off a bit. “Some people might call it holding a grudge. I call it, I see who you are and am choosing not to unsee it. I’m free to choose, Bob.”

His brows shot up and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Freedom of choice does not mean freedom of consequences.”

“Exactly,” I said with an exaggerated wink. “I do believe you might want to keep that in mind.”

The stare-down was extreme. Neither one of us wanted to be the first to break it. His utter surprise that I didn’t back down made the disgusting man or whatever he was chuckle.

“Your reputation precedes you quite accurately,” he finally said.

“As does yours,” I shot back.

“And what might my reputation be?” he inquired casually. There was nothing casual about the question.

“I’m not one to gossip,” I replied evenly. “I could turn the question back on you.”

“That would be rude.”

“I have to respectfully refute that statement. I have excellent manners. Would you like to know how I know that?” I asked.

He was curious. Clearly perturbed, but curious. “But of course.”

“The definition of good manners in my book is putting up with the bad manners of others.”

He didn’t like my answer. I didn’t like him. We were even.

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Play the game or I will destroy the box.”

“Show me what’s in the box,” I challenged.

He smiled. It came nowhere close to reaching his eyes. The Higher Power made my blood run cold. This wasn’t a benevolent being.Itwas a crime against humanity. How had we gotten to this?

With great fanfare and more loud music from the speakers, Fake Bob removed the paper from the box and then clapped his hands. The box disintegrated, and Steve stood in his ghostly form on the stage. He wasn’t out of it. He was fully aware of what was happening around him, and he appeared terrified. But I knew him well. His terror wasn’t for himself, it was for me. My happiness and safety were his priorities. That was something that would never change. However, it went both ways. His happiness and safety were my goals as well.

“Satisfied?” Fake Bob queried.

“What happened to you?” I asked. The question wasn’t to get a rise out of It. I asked in all seriousness.

“I don’t know what you mean,” It replied.

“Well, I sure do, you Fake Bob Barker, idiot asscrack,” Gram yelled, wagging her finger at It. “What my granddaughter asked you was who peed in your soup? Here you are up in some messed up plane with horny game show hosts and weird ass rules. This is givin’ me a real burr in my saddle. Not to mention, you’ve desecrated the sexiest man alive. You don’t hold a candle to Bob Barker, and you should be ashamed of yourself for stealin’ his face.”

The Higher Power wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was probably a once in a very long lifetime event for It.

Gram was on a roll and not even close to being done. “You wanna know what you are? You wanna know? I’m gonna tell you! You’re as worthless as gum on a bootheel. You’re so full of yourself, you think the sun comes up just to hear you crow. It don’t. Sitting up here all high and mighty is about as useless as a steering wheel on a dang mule. You need to get your sorry ass down to the earthly plane and learn some damned manners, shit for brains. There ain’t no tear in the Light. You just stole some innocent souls to get Daisy on up here. That makes my butt itch. Guess you weren’t expectin’ her to have backup,” Gram yelled. “Welp, you guessed wrong. I’d suggest you hand over Steve and put your sorry ass into time-out for a few million years.”

“Are you done?” It asked, seething with rage.

“Are you?” she shot back.

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