Part 12 (2/2)
”No, he didn't.” Miranda hadn't told Kat much about David's past, not even how he had gotten his Signet; she wasn't sure if Kat was ready for that. ”He's been through a lot and done a lot.”
”Well, if you can deal with all of that, you can deal with a little swish. It's not like it's a bad thing. Bi is the new hotness, you know.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. ”Only if it's two women in a p.o.r.no movie for straight guys.”
”And as for the ex being a jacka.s.s-if David still likes him, and his hubby is a great guy like you said and loves him, he must not be all bad. Maybe you should try to find some common ground. Besides David, I mean, because that could get weird.”
Miranda smiled at her. ”How did you get so d.a.m.n wise?”
Kat snorted. ”Wise would be if I hadn't gotten knocked up.”
The Queen sat down on the changing room's bench, abandoning her quest for a moment. She'd been avoiding the subject for most of the evening because she knew Kat was tired of thinking about it every moment of every day, but now that Kat had brought it up, Miranda asked what she'd been wanting to since meeting Kat outside the shop: ”What did Drew say?”
Kat shrugged. ”He's overjoyed. He wants to get married.”
Miranda could hear the ambivalence, and moreover she could feel it. ”And you?”
”I don't know. I'm done panicking, so that's progress. And I'm glad I didn't go through with the abortion before Drew got back. But I still don't know what I'm going to do.”
Miranda didn't say anything, though the desire to make Kat promise to keep the baby was so strong she had to bite her lip against the words. It must be part of her prescient gift, if it could be called a gift. She knew, she just knew, that Kat would have the baby, and that it would be a girl, and somehow . . . somehow that little girl would grow up to be very important to a lot of people. But she wasn't about to put pressure on Kat.
”I love kids,” Kat went on. ”But I've seen so many who were so screwed up, and seen how the world is so hard for them . . . how can I have a kid?”
Miranda took a deep breath, stood, and changed into the red-trimmed top, saying as casually as she could, ”Maybe you're exactly the kind of person who should have kids, then. Someone who's been there and seen the best and worst of people. Someone educated, with common sense. You could give a kid a great home, with or without Drew.”
”But am I ready for this?”
Miranda leaned over and did the b.o.o.b shake again, settling into the outfit and testing it out to see if she could breathe. So far so good. ”Is anyone?”
Kat leaned the chair back on two legs, sighing heavily. ”Distract me, okay? Tell me more about your big gay husband.” Miranda threw a hair scrunchie at her. Kat laughed, setting the chair back down. ”Oh, come on. Is the guy at least hot?”
”Disgustingly,” Miranda replied. ”He's all Goth and leather.”
”And he's really old and powerful?”
”Over seven hundred years old, and yeah. Apparently most regular vampires only live to about five hundred at the outside, so he's like a little fanged Yoda.”
Kat gave her a playful grin. ”Have you had any fantasies yet?”
”About what?”
”About the two of them getting it on.”
”G.o.d, Kat! No!”
Kat laughed. ”Which means yes. Admit it, Mira, it's a turn-on! Just picture them in bed-”
”Kat!” Miranda groaned, looking for something else to throw.
”Who do you think would be on top?” Kat pondered eagerly.
”Quit it!” Miranda tried to sound outraged, but she was laughing too hard, and said, ”Okay, I'll give you this, seeing them kiss was kind of . . . s.e.xy.”
”They kissed? Was there tongue?”
This time Miranda threw a balled-up s.h.i.+rt at her. ”Not that I saw. Now tell me what you think, so I can either buy this thing or get the h.e.l.l out of here.”
Kat looked her over again, then flashed her a thumbs-up. ”Perfect. I dare anybody to be a jacka.s.s to you in that outfit.”
”Thank G.o.d. I've had enough of this shopping c.r.a.p for one night. Let me put my real clothes back on and we'll go for ice cream.”
A few minutes later Miranda was mercifully back in her jeans, although she was wearing a lace-up black top with belled sleeves and her favorite big black boots. She'd spent long enough s...o...b..ng around in threadbare T-s.h.i.+rts back when she was crazy; comfort still came first, but she knew she looked good in slightly more . . . vampire-appropriate clothing.
She took the new outfit up to the counter, where the bored girl with the pierced upper lip and six pounds of white foundation looked up from her copy of Catcher in the Rye. ”Can I help you?”
”Yes,” Miranda said. ”Do you have the pants in a size ten? These are a little snug.”
The girl didn't roll her eyes, but Miranda knew she was doing it in her mind. Her tone was both bored and dismissive as she said, ”Did you see any on the rack?”
Miranda's temper flared, and she looked into the girl's eyes and said, power and immortality both clear in her voice, ”Go check in the back, please.”
The girl went pale under her Urban Decay and stammered for a second before saying, ”Yes, of course. Hold on just a sec.”
Miranda shook her head and glanced at Kat, who was looking at her appraisingly. ”You didn't even have to vampmojo her.”
Miranda smiled. ”How do you know?”
”I remember that tone of voice from the time I took you to the ER and you almost flattened that nurse. You were standing there in your panties and you might as well have had a crown on your head.”
The clerk returned with a pair of pants guaranteed to fit the Queen, who handed over her Visa wordlessly.
”Aren't you going to check the price?” Kat asked.
Miranda shrugged. ”I'm not worried about it. I have to wear this in front of an audience, so I don't mind spending more.”
”Oh, right, I forgot, you're Miss Gotbucks von Rich-a.s.s now.”
Miranda signed the charge slip and said, laughing, ”That's Queen Gotbucks von Rich-a.s.s, thank you very much. Now come on-there's a double-scoop Mexican vanilla hot fudge sundae out there with my name on it.”
David wasn't the kind of man to procrastinate, and he certainly wasn't one to avoid facing his problems-at least, not anymore. Once upon a time he had run as far and fast from Deven as he could, and only when there were several thousand miles between them could he breathe again.
He'd thought that all those miles and all those years had done what apologies could not. He'd thought that the past was past, and now that they both had Consorts and were presumably happy and settled in their reigns, it would be just like it had once been, when he had been Deven's student in the training ring and they had been friends outside it.
Denial, denial, denial.
Now here he was, in his bedroom pondering the sword in his hand-a sword that Deven himself had given David after he took the Southern Signet-growing progressively later and later for their appointment in the training room, and David Solomon, Prime of the Southern United States, was scared out of his mind.
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