Please note: This is a continuation of V is for Vow of the Peacock.
“If I had known you were going to spend the night, I would have had the batter ready,” Lonnie says. She was as bright as a day lily even after a night of shots, drafts, and mulled wine.
I, on the other hand, woke up on the couch to the aftermath of drinking like a bomb had gone off in my head.
“I don’t remember falling asleep. Explains a lot.” I recall dreaming about a talking peacock attempting to lure a blacked out guy into taking a vow of chivalry.
Or something like that. It’s hard to think when my head is pounding like a sledgehammer whacking at the inside of my skull.
Lonnie cracks two eggs into her bowl and the sound makes me want to puke. “You know what you need?”
I groan and she laughs her high pitch, sassy laugh that is so endearing yet so painful at that moment. “Help me out. I can’t drink all this leftover champagne by myself. And the hair of the dog will be good for you!”
I give in and lay my head on the cool, tiled counter as she preps twin mimosas. I can’t get that peacock off my mind. I’ve been drunk before but not drunk to the point where I start hallucinating. “What the hell did you put in that wine?”
“Sugar, spice, and something nice,” she laughs at my stricken face. “No drugs. Promise.” I accept the mimosa. “You feel like crap because you’re dehydrated and you’re too skinny for your own good.” The scrapping of the spoon in the bowl makes me shutter. “Waffles?”
I nod and she lugs out her ancient waffle iron. The cast iron type you heat on the stove top in the morning and keep by your bedside at night because it looks like it’d be just as effective as a weapon as it is at making breakfast.
As I sip my mimosa, she looks over the counter. “You sleep well, Xander.”
“I always sleep well, Miss Lonnie,” responds an all too familiar voice.
I turn and immediately spit out the mimosa.
The peacock is standing in the doorway, beady, black eyes staring me down.
“Xander, you met Coral last night? Coral, this is Xander.”
“I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Miss Goth Lips earlier this morning,” Xander says coolly but with the slightest hint of distaste in his voice as he hops up onto the bar stool next to me.
I whirl on Lonnie. “You put something in this.”
“Coral, if I had told you that Xander was coming, you would have never believed me, so settle down. One or two waffles?” she asks the peacock.
“Half. I’m not suppose to be eating too many carbs.” And it could have been my imagination but I swear he winked at Lonnie.
“I got you,” Lonnie said and the batter hissed when it hit the buttered grill.
“You mean you didn’t find a tasty man to devour after you left?” I ask in mock shock.
“Silly girl. I ate before the party,” the peacock says as if it was common sense.
“Any vow takers last night?” Lonnie asks as she flips the cast iron grill over.
“There is a carnivorous peacock in your kitchen!” I’m weirded out. I’m losing my mind and it feels like something is raking its claws inside my head. “How are you acting like this is normal?”
Lonnie flips the partial waffle onto a plate and pushes it in front of Xander. “Syrup, Xander?” she asks without taking her eyes off me.
“Ooh, yet please,” he says accepting the pitcher with his beak and pouring an impressively controlled drizzle in a spiral before setting it down.
“How many waffles you want, Coral?” Lonnie asks.
I swing my arms out, and Xander caws as I knock him off his perch with a beak full of waffle. “Two. I want two mother f***ing waffles and an explanation why you have a talking peacock when I couldn’t get a magical pony when I was four.” I smile. If I’m going crazy might as well make it as crazy as possible.
Lonnie cracks into grin. “That’s my girl!”
A/N: The Pexels’ peacock photo was too perfect. Just saying.
Edit, 7/2/18: This story continues in Layered Dreams.