Hollyweird by Terri Clark

“Haven’t we proven ourselves?”
    â€œYou have,” I rushed to assure them. “It’s just … against the rules.”
    â€œRules?” Aly asked.
    I rubbed my hands over my face before looking at them again. “I have a strict code of conduct I’m required to follow.” And I can’t screw up my one chance at getting back in good graces with the big guy .
    â€œAnd if you don’t follow the rules, what happens?” Des asked. “Do you belong to some kind of magical mafia? Will your powers, whatever they are, get whacked?”
    That wasn’t too far off. “I’m sorry,” I said, kicking a rock across the sidewalk. “He’d totally—”
    A burly biker with a beard and a crossbones do-rag walked out of the shop behind us with a Saran Wrapped arm just as Aly gasped, “It is the mafia.”
    I nodded at the dude and gave a heh-heh laugh until he passed by. “No!” I said, horrified at her inadvertent comparison of my boss to Al Capone.
    â€œThen are you part of a clan, a pack, a coven?” Des pushed.
    â€œStop,” I said in exasperation. “It’s not like that.” A little help here , I silently pleaded.
    â€œWhy so super-secret then?” Des asked. “You’ve had no problems telling us about weres, fangs, sirens, hags, and succubuses.”
    â€œSuccubi,” Aly corrected. “Not buses.”
    â€œSuccubi,” Des repeated, then asked me, “What makes you so special?”
    Aly gave me a quizzical look. “Does everyone of your ilk keep themselves secret?”
    â€œIlk? Ilk ?” Des repeated, stepping onto the base of a lamppost and then hanging off it by one arm. “Who says that?”
    â€œWhat?” Aly said in a haughty tone. “It works perfectly well in this context.”
    â€œWhatev, word nerd.” Des hopped down and turned back to me. “So, how ’bout it? Is everyone of your ilk ”— she leaned on the word and gave Aly a cheesy grin—“required to keep a super-secret identity?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œBut? But how are we supposed to trust you if we don’t even know what you are?” Des asked.
    â€œClearly he’s a good guy,” Aly said, and I felt grateful for her defense. “He wouldn’t be trying to stop Dakota if he wasn’t.”
    â€œYou can’t know that,” Des argued. “He could have his own agenda. He’s asked us to believe him and everything that he’s shown us, but he’s unwilling to reveal himself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me an evil eye. “Seems awfully suspicious to me.”
    â€œShe’s got a point.” Aly bit her lip.
    â€œRules are meant to be broken,” Des said.
    â€œOh, Des.” Aly gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re always wanting to break the rules. Even when it’s unwarranted.”
    â€œIt’s not unwarranted here. We need to know exactly what we’re involved with.”
    â€œBelieve me,” I said, arms held wide as I tried desperately to re-steer this careening conversation. “I’d tell you everything, but—”
    â€œYou’re being hypocritical,” Des accused me.
    I felt caught in a freakin’ tornado of feminine force. My head started to pound. “I … I … ” I stammered, not knowing if I’d snap under pressure and spill everything or run while I still could. Then I heard the haunting strains of a six-string guitar and Robert Plant singing about a lady and gold.
    â€œExcuse me,” I said, stepping away and digging in my pocket for the phone. It was HIM. My hand trembled as I flipped it open and saw the little envelope icon indicating a text message. My gaze skittered to the girls, now whispering amongst themselves and staring at me, before pressing okay.
    From: God
It’s all good. U better tell them the truth.
CB: