Irish Lullaby

"Oh, well I can do that, but can I seriously freak you're friends out?" he jumped a little in his seat in excitement.

"All you have to do with freaking them out is act super proper and like everything they dislike then make crude comments about random things they like, and of course, act snobby as hell, then all of a sudden maybe turn into a country bumpkin or something."

"Taste of there own medicine I'm guessing?"

"You got it," I smiled as he winked and opened his door, he stood up at the same time I did before he straightened his jacket and walked over to me, he held his arm out and cleared his throat, while straightening his back and leveling his shoulders in pride.

"Madam?"

"Oh hell yeah, oh and do the deep voice thing, drives them crazy," I laughed flicking my wrist nonchalantly as he and I walked up the steps to the door and rang the bell.

"Like this?" he asked with a deep, sultry, extremely sexy Irish accent that was thicker than before, I smiled a little dreamily before I nodded, coming out of my trance like state when the door opened.

"Sweetie?" My mother asked as she glanced from me to Sanders, I smiled and pointed at Sanders.

"My friend Sanders Huckabee, Sanders this is my mother Janice Phillips," I smiled as I pulled Sanders in behind me, walking past my mother as she shut the door, she couldn't seem to keep her small hazel eyes off him, appraising him more than likely.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Phillips," Sanders said as he bowed and kissed her hand, I mentally rolled my eyes as I knew exactly what she was going to say, like every other time.

"Ms. it's Ms. Phillips," she said in a light flirty tone, unlike her usual raspy I-smoke-three-packs-a-day tone, she pulled her hand away and giggled and covered her mouth with the same hand, I smiled while mentally laughing and making comments on how immature she could act as I walked past her into her white living room, seriously everything.

White. Clean. So much like a museum it scares me to even walk in the room.

"Oh," Sanders said in shock as he walked into the room, he glanced around before he leaned down and whispered. "What in the hell is this? A holding cell for crazies or the hospital?"

"Close, but I figured art museum," I whispered back as he still stood at my ear, his hot breath cascading down my neck and collarbone causing me to shiver and him to chuckle slightly, sending another shiver down my spine, our little moment of my embarrassment was interrupted by my unfriendly friend Natalie.

"Harper sweetheart, who is this?" she said in a sickly sweet tone as she held her hand out for Sanders to kiss, while looking him up and down, checking his status and worth. Sanders leaned down quickly and bowed, kissed her hand, the same old shit that drove all the girls crazy twenty years ago before all men turned into perverts.

"My friend Sanders Huckabee, Sanders meet Natalie Fisher."

"Natalie Fisher of the Fisher franchises that is," Natalie boasted as she laughed a somewhat shrill laugh that sounded like a wounded hyena or a dying cat, I nodded with a laugh while trying to hold back a grimace.

"How could I forget?" I asked as I grabbed a champagne glass from the waiter that walked past us, mother always had to have the best, even if it meant waiters and waitresses at a home party that had no reason to be held. "You never let me forget," I whispered as she tuned me out and began talking to Sanders, turning her back to me, the backless gold tank top that she wore showed way more than anyone in the room needed to see, especially me.

"Sweetheart come here," My mother said pulling at my elbow as I slowly crept away, only to be caught by the other person I was hoping to avoid. Damn you white walls and you're nonexistent hiding spots. I followed her into the large, sterling silver kitchen, another reason that her house freaks me out and makes me jealous at the same time, every room was a different color and freakishly shiny.

"What's wrong mom?" I asked sipping at my glass, she sighed and smiled before she pulled a man out of the large pantry she had at the left corner of the room, I did a double take before my mouth gapped open in shock. "Mom, men are coming out of the woodwork now? I already thought this house was weird but damn."

"Sweetie, this is Damon Fillip from Fillip Industries, the company that makes…"

"Spray cheese," I mumbled with a scared smile, she nodded and stepped back trying to give us room to get to know one another while obviously listening and pointing out things.

"Damon here has ask about dating you, maybe possibly taking you're hand in marriage, and then finally, I'll have a grandchild like I've always wanted," Mother said crossing her heart with her right hand, sighing happily and dreamily at her fantasy that probably involved white houses and picket fences with little kids running around the gated yard giggling.

Don't mean to burst her bubble, but—

I spit my mouthful of champagne that I tried to quickly down in my hand when she said marriage, not anything new but every time it hits me like a semi. "Mother, I'm twenty one years old, I just turned legal to drink and you want me to get married!"

"More reason to get married," she smiled cautiously and shrugged her shoulders. "Then you can have a designated driver when you drink."

And she wonders why I say no to everything, she makes everything hell on earth.

"Harper!" Sanders laughed as he ran in the kitchen, well jogged with a smile on his face that seemed all too convincing. "Where did you run off to, and who do we have here?"

"Well Sanders, Damon Fillip who wants to marry me," I said closing my eyes as I sat the empty glass on the counter. "I just told mom that I'm barely legal to drink, why would I marry someone One, I don't know," I held out one finger and cocked my hip to the side, "Two, Don't love," I held out two fingers, "And Three Don't care to much about. I just don't get it."

"Harper Elizabeth!" Mother stated in a shocked tone, like she didn't expect my decline of marriage or rudeness to the small redheaded man to my left.

"Well it's kind of hard to marry Mr. Fillip was it, because we're together," Sanders said as he hugged my side to his chest, my eyes went wide and I thanked God I had set my glass on the counter or it would have been shattered on my legs and then to add to my predicament I would have needed medical attention.

"Together?" my mother's eyes went wide. "Why I didn't think you were with anyone, I mean is it serious?"

By this time, Damon was looking rather, nervous and out of place, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jacket and leaning from side to side. "Very serious Janice, we're getting married tomorrow afternoon," Sanders said with a very convincing smile and tone of voice. “In the park, at the pavilion, surrounded in white.”

Talk about having a heart attack.

"We are? I mean we are!" I said then smiled as I looked at my mother. "We totally—are."

"I assume you will be inviting me," she said looking at Sanders with both hands firmly planted on each one of her hips signaling dominance over her role as mother.

"Of course," Sanders smiled as he looked at Damon and winked. "Sorry man, beat you too it I'm afraid."

"Its cool man my dad made me come anyway," Damon said as he slowly walked out of the room sighing in relief as he went, I glanced at my mother and pointed to the living room.

"We need to get out there don't we dear?"

"Yes we do," I said nodding my head as Sanders let go of my side and linked his fingers with mine, his hand was large and fit perfectly over mine as we walked hand in hand into the living room, the whole time panic rising like flood waters, slowly inching its way to drowning me.

Perfect, just what I need.

"Sorry, it's all I could think of," Sanders whispered as we got away from half the people that were congratulating us and half were disgusted because I was marrying such a hot guy, their words not mine. Damn my mother's unique ability to rattle off gossip and it spread like a rash.