Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 by Christina Ross

really should think about writing
fantasy.   I think you’d take to it
as a surgeon to a knife.”
    “Oh dear,” Addy said, though I saw that he was suppressing a smile.
    “So clever,” Tootie said, patting her hair.   “You know I
have to ask—when are you going to give Alex a son?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “A son,” she said.   “An heir.   It’s what he married you for.   Essentially, you’re a brood mare for the
Wenn empire.”
    “I’m a what?”
    “Oh, you know what I mean.”
    “Actually, I don’t,” Alex said.
    “And neither do I, especially since
I’ve never associated myself with a brood mare.”
    “All I’m asking is when can we
expect a little Wenn?”
    “Then why don’t you ask that
question?” I said.
    She just blinked at us.
    “We’re not going to get pregnant
for a couple of years, Tootie ,” Alex said, trying his
best to temper the tension that threatened to fuse Tootie and I together into one fiery brawl of hatred.   “Jennifer and I want to enjoy and focus
on each other during the early years of our marriage before we have a family.”
    “And whose idea was that?”
    “Both of ours.”
    “Really?   Was it?   Hmmm.”
    “By the way,” Addy said.   “Congratulations on your
marriage.   Well done.”
    “Yes,” Tootie said.   “But I have to say that you
made such a curious decision about where you were wed.   I hear that it took place in your
office, Alex.”
    “It did,” he said.
    She glanced over at me and sipped
her champagne.   “Well, I suppose,
considering the situation, that sounds about right.   But still, I have to ask you, Alex…what
would your mother think?   You know
she would have wanted a big church wedding for you.   You were her only child.   You know she would have wanted that for
you, even if this is your second marriage.”
    “My mother and I never got along, Tootie .   She was
abusive to me.   You know that.   You also know that my mother is
dead.   My father killed her before
he turned the gun on himself.   Furthermore, this is only my second marriage because my first wife,
Diana, died in a car accident.   You
remember that, don’t you?”
    “I—”
    “Naturally, you must.   So, knowing all this, I need to
ask—why would I even consider what anyone other than my wife would have
wanted when it came to our wedding?”
    “Oh,” she said.   “Oh dear.   I’m afraid I’ve over-stepped.”
    Neither of us responded to
her.   Instead, we just stared at
her.
    “Well, I’m sure it was beautiful,”
she said.   “In the office and
all.   With that questionable
lighting.   You probably had lovely
flowers.   And ribbons.   Festive things.”
    “The sentiment was beautiful,” Alex
said.   “And it remains
beautiful.   I’m a lucky man, Tootie .   I’m married
to the love of my life.   Going
forward, I hope you’ll understand just how much Jennifer means to me.   As for the ceremony, you’re actually
wrong—it really was quite plain.   But it got the job done, didn’t it?”
    “Yes, I suppose it did.”   She looked nervous for a moment as she finished
her champagne.   Then, she flicked
her gaze over to me.   “May I ask
what you wore, Jennifer?   I assume
it was white since tradition really doesn’t matter anymore.   Was it something casual?   You know, like a pantsuit?”
    Did this woman never stop?
    “Actually, Tootie ,
I wore pasties,” I said.   “And a
thong.   It’s all the rage in
Paris.   You should have seen it.   But, oh, the struggle I had with my clitoria .”
    “With your what?”
    “My clitoria .   It’s a rare flower that hails from the
warm, moist environs of Southeast Asia.   You can imagine where I held the bouquet, and what the flower looks and
smells like.   But they’re such a
fragile flower, you need to handle them with extreme care or the petals will
fall away from the buds.”
    “That sounds oddly sexual and
weirdly grotesque.”
    “That’s just your