Peaches Monroe: The Return of Ursula (Short Story) Read Online Free

my god, I’m straight now.”
    “They’ll know it’s a wig. My eyebrows look like furry blond caterpillars next to this.”
    Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Fools and children shouldn’t see things half finished.” He pulled out a makeup kit and went crazy on my face, darkening my eyelashes and eyebrows.
    When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by how sexy I was. Now, I feel pretty good about my appearance most of the time, but I’ve never wanted to make out with myself, you know?
    In that sexy Cleopatra wig, I kinda wanted to get Dalton and have a kinky threesome, with me, him, and the hot chick in the mirror.
    “Dalton won’t know it’s you,” Mitchell said. “Your own mother wouldn’t know it’s you.”
    “She would if I opened my mouth.”
    Mitchell got a cheeky grin. “Not if you’re Ursula. How’s your cleaning-lady accent?”
    I cleared my throat, then tried my Ursula identity. “I am cleaning lady. I clean real good.” I put on a blank expression. “I clean shower real good. I get right in and scrub, scrub, scrub. Dirty bachelor. Tsk tsk.”
    “Very good, Ursula, but you’re a personal assistant now, not a cleaner.”
    “Yes, yes. I help actor. He no good actor, but he work hard. He stand in back and pretend to talk. I ask what he say, and he say it’s nothing. He say he make background noise. Peas-and-carrots-peas-and-carrots.”
    “And what work do you do for our boss, Ursula?”
    “I make the food in the blender. I make the laundry. And sometimes when he sad, I put the hand in the pants and pull and pull until we make more laundry.”
    Mitchell frowned. “We don’t talk about that last part.”
    I pretended to zip my lips.
    We finished getting me dressed, ate a quick brunch with some waffles the housekeeper had stocked in the fridge, and got ready to leave.
    Dalton’s butler/pilot/personal assistant met us at the door.
    “Where shall I take you shopping?” Vern asked politely.
    “Take the day off. Mitchell’s driving today.”
    Vern stared at my black wig with suspicion. “I’ll drive both of you, and you’ll save time not having to worry about parking.”
    “It’s no trouble,” Mitchell said.
    Vern kept staring at me. “Ms. Deangelo, that certainly is an excellent disguise. I barely recognized you. It does seem like an awful lot of effort just to avoid some paparazzi.”
    “Maybe I’m robbing a bank,” I said.
    Vern moved to block the door.
    I picked up a pillow from the sofa and chucked it at him. The pillow struck his chest and dropped to the floor. I picked up another pillow and aimed it at his head.
    Vern’s face got puckered, like he’d just swallowed a bug.
    Mitchell joined me in grabbing pillows from the sofa and aiming them at Vern.
    “I see this is a standoff,” Vern said politely.
    “And you’re unarmed,” Mitchell said.
    We stared each other down for at least a minute.
    Then Vern reached for the door handle, opened the front door, and stepped aside.
    “Have a lovely day shopping,” Vern said.

5
    We pulled up to the studios, and Mitchell drove around looking for somewhere to park. The lot was huge, but didn’t look like much from the outside. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the windowless buildings were just storage.
    I hadn’t been to the set before, but I knew that they film most of the scenes inside those buildings on sound stages. For graveyard scenes, it’s cheaper for them to shoot on the sound stages and do CGI with green screens.
    They do shoot outdoors sometimes, which was why Dalton had been on a crane, high above a forest, on the day before our wedding. The curious thing about that was how they were shooting during the daytime. Drake and Connor aren’t sparkly sunshine vampires who go traipsing around in the daylight typically. Dalton had let it slip that Connor gave his character a potion.
    I had been telling Mitchell all about this plot twist on the drive over, and he was fascinated.
    “I’m dying here. Peaches, you