Page 53 of The Chosen Two

I shake my head but then remember she can’t see me. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what these crazy chicks are doing with my husband right now. I don’t know how to find them. If I did, I wouldn’t know how to fight them. They are goddesses for fuck’s sake. I never signed up for this. Jake certainly never did… I seriously don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. Get yourself a ticket to Vegas for Friday. I will come over and take care of the kids. You are going to spend the next two days figuring out exactly what you need to do to beat these bitches down, if there are any special weapons you need or anything. Then you’re going to fly to Las Vegas. Track them down. And get your sweet, kind, would-die-for-you-and-your-children, and would-never-cheat-on-you-if-he-wasn’t-under-the-influence-of-some-floozy-goddesses husband and bring him home. Yeah?”

“Yeah… That sounds about right… Okay. I need to buy a plane ticket. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As soon as I’m off the phone, I send George a text.

Work-related text: Friday I am flying to Vegas. I am not coming home until I have my husband back… Do with that information what you will.

Three dots… Three dots… and then,

Buy two tickets. I’ll pay you back. And tell me what time to pick you up.

I smile to myself. I knew he wasn’t all that bad. I buy our tickets and text him the details. Then I take a Xanax so I can get some sleep. Tomorrow, as soon as the kids are dropped off, it will time for some heavy lifting in the library. I need to find out how to bring these bitches down.

***

“This is so stupid. And pointless. No guardian has ever had to face a Muse before.” I slam the docent journals shut and slide the book across the table. The heels of my palms pressed into my eyes are the only things holding me together right now.

George lifts his face away from the book he’s reading and looks at me over the stack of books he has already attempted and rejected. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we can’t find how to beat them here. Maybe it has to be all you and your instincts.”

My hands drop to the table so my eyes can properly glare. “Well then, Jake is definitely screwed if that’s the case. My instincts are total shit.”

George rolls his eyes. “One of these days, do you think you’ll start to believe in yourself?”

“Not likely, no. I’ve spent forty years doubting myself in everything I do. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” I slouch down and lean back with my arms crossed in front of me. I look more like a teenager sulking in detention than a grown ass woman who is supposed to save the world on the regular.

“Fine. Once again, I’ll be the one to say it: I believe in you. Don’t roll your eyes at me! Whatever, act like a child… Do you know where are they performing? Do they have a casino they are the regulars at right now?”

Ashamed that I hadn’t thought to look at that, I pull my phone out and check. “Apparently they perform six nights at a week at the Colosseum.” I groan, “Of course they’re playing the Colosseum… These chicks are not predictable at all.”

“Okay, so I guess we know where we’re staying.” He grabs his phone and starts typing. “I’ll call and get us a room.”

“Aroom? Don’t you think that’s crossing over into the friend zone?”

He really good at turning his blue eyes to ice when he glares at me. “I’m not letting you out of my sight while we’re there. We don’t even know what their plan is. For all we know, this is just a trap to get you there.”

I think for a second, then nod in agreement. He walks to the kitchen to make the reservation.

***

The kids are all prepared (and super excited) for their weekend with Aunt Eliza by the time I drop them at school Friday. She’s coming to our house and setting up the portable crib I hung onto all these years, because who knows if this weekend is going to stretch into more. But as far they know, I’m just flying out to surprise their dad for a romantic weekend.

At 9:00 a.m., George is outside my house ready to go. I throw a couple more pairs of underwear in my suitcase (you can never pack too many pairs, particularly in my line of work) and head out the door, taking a long look around the house as if saying good-bye.

Walking through the airport with this guy is like being with an alien from outer space.

“What is this crazy line for?” He points rudely while he asks.

“It’s to get through security.” I look in my bag, making sure I can easily grab my liquids when we get to the conveyer belt.

“Is there a way around it?”

I can’t believe he’s serious. “Not unless you want to be arrested.”

“Huh. Interesting.” He’s on his tip toes, trying to see the line’s destination.