I eyed it. “I’m not sure what’s more disturbing. This party or that drink.”
“Both. Neither. Everything.” May grinned. “You’re having fun, October. Just relax and let yourself enjoy it. You never go out and just have fun anymore, and I’ll be damned before I let you march off to your own wedding like it was your execution.”
“I’ve been sentenced to death before, and I assure you, nothing I do with Tybalt is nearly as unpleasant,” I said.
Danny laughed. “I don’t wanna know what you and the kitty-cat get up to when I’m not around,” he said. “That’s the sort of thing that should be between two consentin’ adults, and not their designated driver.”
“I don’t need a designated driver,” I protested. “My body burns alcohol so fast I can’t even stay drunk for more than five minutes at a time. And the house is barely more than a mile away.”
“Don’t care,” said Danny. “I have a taxi for a reason. Driving the bride-to-be around is part of it.”
I considered pointing out the ridiculousness of a man who’d consumed six pink cocktails claiming to be my designated driver, and decided against it. Danny probably weighs upward of six hundred pounds, and most of his body is made up of something close to, if not identical to, granite. I’m not sure he can get drunk. I’m absolutely sure that if he can, he wasn’t going to manage it on less than several gallons of straight whiskey. He was still perfectly safe behind the wheel.
Instead, I said, “I’d prefer it if you’d drive the bride’s drunk friends home.”
Danny grinned. “That’s a compromise I can live with.”
The Luidaeg finished her song. Everyone clapped. If the applause from the other members of our party was a little more enthusiastic than her performance warranted, well, who could blame them? Failure to properly appreciate one of the Firstborn was probably bad for silly things like “continuing to have a pulse.”
The DJ called a name. An actual stranger this time, someone whose song choice wasn’t going to make me choke on my drink or otherwise lose my composure. I took advantage of the break to turn and smile wryly at May.
“All right, you got me,” I said. “You were right, and I was wrong: I am having a good time. This is a good party. I bow before your infinite wisdom.”
May preened. “I told you you’d have a good time if you’d let yourself. Everyone else is having fun, too.”
She was right about that. Walther and Marcia were carrying their song selections to the front, while Bridget—possibly the only person here aside from me and Quentin who wasn’t over-awed by the Luidaeg—was congratulating the Luidaeg on her performance. Arden was laughing so hard that she looked like she was going to hurt herself, while Madden grinned and took a drink of his own beer.
So many of my friends and allies were here. So many people who trusted me, and who I trusted to have my back, no matter what. It was an odd thing to realize that I was outside my house and utterly relaxed, but I was. Maybe for the first time in a year, I felt like I could drop my guard and just exist.
The stranger finished his song. Stacy jumped up onto the stage without waiting for the DJ to say anything, grabbing the microphone.
“We’re here tonight because our friend Toby is getting married!” she shouted. The bar cheered, even the parts of it who weren’t with us.
I groaned. “Oh, sweet Titania, no.”
“Yes,” said May, taking my beer away.
“Yup,” agreed Quentin, and pushed me off my stool.
Kerry and Cassandra were suddenly there to grab me by my wrists and haul me to the stage, where Stacy had produced a headband that looked like a cross between a bridal veil and one of those ridiculous “fairy crowns” hippies like to sell at open-air farmer’s markets. They pushed me up the stairs. She plopped it onto my head and shoved the microphone into my hands, turning me to face the karaoke screen as the lyrics for “White Wedding” began to appear.
“I am going to kill you all,” I said, and lifted the microphone, and sang.
My life’s not so bad these days.
TWO
THE MINT STOPPED SERVING alcohol at two; the karaoke DJ left at two-thirty; thanks to some reservation magic on May and Stacy’s part, they didn’t kick us out until three, by which time everyone was well on their way to sober, or at least competent to get home without passing out on somebody’s front step.
We thronged on the sidewalk, hugging, laughing, and saying good-bye one by one, like we wanted to make the party last as long as possible. I realized, with some surprise, that I was doing just that: I didn’t want the night to end. For once, nothing was trying to kill me or complicate my life. I didn’t have any quests to finish or problems to resolve. I got to exist, with no qualifiers. It was nice. I wanted it to continue.
Arden walked over, offering an awkward smile and a fist-bump to the shoulder, which was about as close as the two of us were prepared to come to hugging. “I need to get back,” she said. “Nolan gets anxious if I leave him alone for too long.”
Nolan is her younger brother. He’s technically Crown Prince in the Mists now that she’s Queen, and most importantly, he’s awake. That part’s new. He spent more than eighty years asleep, courtesy of the usurper who’d been sitting on his family’s throne. He’s a nice guy. A little flustered-looking every time I’ve seen him so far, but that makes sense, given how dramatically things have changed—both in the mortal world and in Faerie—during the years he missed.
“May invited him,” I said. “We would have been happy to have him.”
Arden’s laughter was bright and sincere. “Oh, no. He’s not ready for The Mint. I’ll try him on a piano bar first, someplace nice and calm where they serve wine and sing old standards. We’ll get there. It’s just going to take time.”
“Well, I’m glad you came,” I said.
“Me, too.”
Madden was less restrained. He walked over and hugged me hard, the action lifting my feet off the ground. “Bye, Toby,” he said.
“Good-bye and put me down,” I replied.
He laughed.
That was enough to break the seal on the party. Arden and Madden walked around the corner of the nearest alley; the scent of redwood sap and blackberry flowers drifted through the air, erasing the normal mortal scents of gasoline and stale beer, and I knew they were gone. Danny loaded Kerry, Stacy, and Cassandra into his cab, promising to get them home safely, all while trying to lure me into the cab for a ride that I neither wanted nor needed, but appreciated all the same. Dianda, still in her sequined cocktail dress, ruffled Dean’s hair, waved to me, and started walking down the street toward the Bay, her shoes dangling from her hand.
Quentin stepped up next to me. “She’s going to get mugged,” he said.
“And that will be very educational for the muggers,” I agreed. Dianda fought to win. Anyone who tried to get in her way was going to have a bad night indeed. “Dean coming home with you?”