Al's voice was faint but resolute. "Stand up. Try to look sexy." "In a bedsheet?" I complained, running my hands down it. "How can I look sexy in a bedsheet?" He cleared his throat, and I grimaced. "Never mind.

My mother isn't crazy. She simply has a harder time than most reconciling her reality with everyone else's reality.

His eyes met mine at the soft touch, and a chime seemed to shake the ley line, realigning the universe. He was mine.

Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.

I didn’t mean now,” he protested. “I’m not going to raise the child. I’m having enough trouble with Rachel.

Jenks squinted at me, and when Trent nodded, the pixy gestured sourly to Bis to get on with it. A four inch man ruled us all.

I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate.