But seriously. Gotch? They’re not even nice gotch. Sure, there are a few pairs inside that have funny pictures, like the blue ones with the pink bananas or the green ones with the smiley cat faces, but the rest are just regular. Even the special ones aren’t anything special. They were gag gifts from my brother, Ash, and my cousin, Taylen.
So what the actual marshmallowy fuck?
I was in the middle of having such good dreams too. I seriously love cotton candy. It’s a strange obsession, but one I have nonetheless, and they were dancing. Dancing. They were also waving their fluffy, delicious, sugary, cloud-like, mystical goodness all over the place. I could even smell the burnt sugar. My mouth was watering, ready to break off a light-as-air piece and let it evaporate on my tongue, leaving behind a trail of wonderful, magical sugar crystals, but then she interrupted it—the gotch stealer.
That’s too easy. Something doesn’t add up. There are a lot of ‘somethings’ that don’t add, subtract, or multiply. Call me paranoid, but something suddenly clicks, and I rush over to the painting on the wall to the right of my bed. I know it’s the token place to have a safe, but whatever because there aren’t that many good hiding places for one. I push the painting to the side, dial the combination, and crack the safe. Everything is there—my passport and other ID, a few envelopes with important documents, my watches, and a small black velvet pouch.
The pouch contains perhaps the deadliest object in my house.
And it currently looks a tad deflated.
In horror, I grasp the pouch and squeeze it, feeling for the telltale lumps of the cursed necklace Granny gave me—the necklace that is supposed to lead me to my soulmate.
We all got a cursed heirloom, all five of us grandchildren: my older brother, Ash, and my cousins, Toren, Taylen, and Leandra. We put zero credence in the curse after Granny told us about it because come on. An object that leads one to their soulmate? True love? It was utterly ludicrous. Even still, maybe because this is New Orleans, and if there’s anywhere in the world that creepy curses are going to come true, it’s here. Plus, it’s Granny who had these heirlooms cursed, and with her, one just never knows. So, we all made a pact against the curse. We promised each other we’d never fall in love, especially after the mess that was our parents. Pfft, soulmate and love? Those are pure bullshit made up for fairy tales. So, see, if we did not believe in them, the curse would never work. Easy peasy, right?
Unfortunately, not so.
My older brother, Ash, found Ellis by accident when she was working for him. She put on his cursed ring by mistake, and bam! They’re now engaged.
Another victim of the curse is my cousin, Toren. A few months ago, he found out he was a dad, compliments of Granny meddling and sending his cursed bracelet to the very woman who used to be the love of Toren’s life for cleaning. And bam! Luna had the bracelet while Toren had his soulmate.
Please, dear sweet, cloudlike, mystical cotton candy, don’t let me be next.
I’m freaking out because the necklace is gone, so of course, the first thing I do is grab my phone off the nightstand and dial Granny. And the fact that she answers at one in the morning is proof of her guilt. On the first ring, no less. Almost like she was waiting by the phone, cackling away and slapping her thigh like she’s prone to do.
Oh, this is a good one, Granny. It’s even more devious than I ever knew you could be.
I have zero preambles. “You cracked my safe,” I say through gritted teeth. “You cracked my safe, took the necklace, and hid it in the top drawer of my dresser. Tonight. When you were over for dinner. How bloody dumb can I be? I can’t believe I fell for it. You took Toren’s bracelet the same way and sent it off.”
“Kirian?” Granny asks. “Is that you?”
“Ahhhhhh! You know who this is! You have caller freaking ID. Yes, it’s Kirian. Just admit it. You cracked my safe, put the necklace with my gotch, and then hired someone to steal it. Will your meddling never end?”
“Eh? What’s that? Meddling?”
“Grannyyyyyyyyyy!” She likes to pretend she’s deaf when she doesn’t want to listen to us. “How on earth did you crack my safe?”
“Because, numbnuts—” apparently she’s done feigning innocence—“the code is the digits of your birthday. What’s the one password you should never choose because it’s so obvious? Right! Your. Birth. Date.”
“Numbnuts,” I sputter.
“Glad to hear that’s the one thing you took away from the valuable things I just told you.”
I breathe loudly into the phone. My muscles are twitching spasmodically, namely my left eye and maybe my left pec. I glance down. Yup, my left nipple is definitely throbbing strangely, my pec is quivering all over the place, and my eye is nearly twitching out of its socket. All signs that I’m extremely annoyed.