Page 54 of Vengefully Matched

Absolutely no treasure room, sadly, though Uncle Larry had at one point, decades before, convinced the house to grow a model train room that he still frequented, in that way paying homage to all things Gomez. He even smoked cigars in there when he visited, from the smell of it.

“Well then, it looks like you don’t have yourself an assistant, Priscilla.” He smirked.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she said. “See you around, Kevin.”

He left in a huff, not even bothering to finish his drink. She checked her phone.

There was a message from the mundane mayor. She had her heart set on one of those little banana chocolate chip muffins, but this might be important.

When she checked the message, though, he was canceling. Something had come up—an urgent town Council meeting that he wanted to be at to shut down one of those ridiculous women protesting against children having access to books—and she fired off a quick response that she would be happy to reschedule for the following week.

She almost put her phone away, but then she thought better of it.

What was a fake relationship without fake actual dates? It was practically a business endeavor, leaning into the fraudulent relationship wisely and well.

Priscilla: Are you busy tonight, honey?

Agatha: Free as a bird, chérie.

Prissy smiled. It was nice that Agatha played into the nickname thing, even if they were fake nicknames.

Priscilla: Want to have dinner at Free Spirits with me? They have great small plates and an excellent wine selection

Agatha: What time?

Priscilla: 8? Meet there?

Agatha: it’s a date

Agatha: *a fake date

Priscilla: I’ll be the woman in the back with only 9 and a half fingers.

She smiled, tucking the phone into her pocket.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” She hadn’t even heard Vickie approach, and she jumped a little in her seat.

“No one.”

“Certainly not that douche canoe with suspiciously perfect hair,” said Vickie, winking.

“That’s a little mean, don’t you think?” Priscilla paused, smiling wide before adding, “To douchebags everywhere. To be compared to him.”

“That’s the Priscilla Hart I know and love.” Vickie laughed.

“Well, almost all of her. I am down half a finger.” She held up her hand woefully.

Vickie smiled. “Sorry for your loss, chérie, but I think you’ll survive it.”

“My finger play may never be the same.” Priscilla waggled her hand, and Vickie shook her head.

“For a time, your brother and I couldn’t even touch each other without dying, and we made do. You’ll figure it out.”

Priscilla resisted the urge to gag at the implication. “And that’s my cue to leave,” she said. She was happy for Azrael, she really was, but she had a date to get ready for, and she couldn’t think of anything that would put her less in the mood than contemplating the formerly complicated logistics of her brother’s sex life.

“Have fun with the no one you’re smiling about texting,” Vickie called after her.

Priscilla flipped her off without even turning around to look at her, but she could hear Vickie’s peals of laughter all the way out of the shop.