Chapter 34

Anya had never been so nervous in her life. Her brother was the biggest, baddest mob boss the city had ever known. Her boyfriend was a well-known championship cage fighter that would destroy anyone who even sneezed wrong in her direction. Hell, she had killed three kidnappers with only a knife and a bad attitude. Yet, when faced with an eighty-nine year old woman who owned the admiration and respect of Anya's boyfriend, she was ready to pretend she had the plague and cut her losses.

"She has blue hair," stated Evelyn Schmidt, glaring at Anya and her offensive hair through thick glasses.

Anya tried an experimental, plaguey sounding cough. Nope. She never had been good at lying.

"It's also black," she pointed out lamely.

The silence that greeted her reply instigated more babbling. "And sometimes it's red, pink or platinum! It changes with my moods, really."

"Humph," Evelyn snorted. "Also, too much makeup."