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—ANDREA!
Her wife's shout makes Andrea Priestly-Sachs jump so high that, unable to regain control of the chair, she falls backward onto the floor.
"At least it's carpeted." she thinks, getting up like a soul being chase by the devil (pun intended) searching for her wife. She can count on one hand the number of times Miranda has yelled. Well, she'd be lying because the true is the Lady Dragon is a screamer, but... under different circumstances.
The sound of the soles of her feet beats in time with her heartbeat as she descends quickly (and for the first time in her life) with agility down the stairs to the first floor where her wife must be.
—Baby, what happe… —her eyes widen. It's a miracle they don't pop out of their sockets— Holy Shit.
—Exactly.
Only God knows how her wife is still awake and not passed out on the living room carpet.
Her daughters, their little redheads, are now little pinks. Their hair is dyed pink and not just any pink, it's a damn Mexican pink. If that weren't enough (good God) Patricia's fur is now pink with brown spots, making her look like a cow straight out of the wildest hallucinations of a certified stoner.
"What the hell" Someone has lost some of their hair. Those don´t belong to Miranda, because those strands are black and short and they're definitely not hers either.
Andrea opens and closes her mouth. Her eyes are like ping-pong balls bouncing from her twins to her wife and dog, not knowing where to begin.
—Bobbseys, what have you done? —the Devil in Prada says incredulously, not believing the scene before her.
This Saturday started off wonderfully. Her wife woke her up passionate and fiery, then they had a lavish breakfast with the twins, and even took a short walk in the park with Patricia as a family. It wasn't until Miranda received a call from Runway (surprise, surprise) that everything went to hell. They were about to head to the butterfly sanctuary that both her twins and wife had been begging her to visit, but a model addicted to white powder, and not exactly makeup, ruined the photo shoot that was supposed to be ready to print the following Monday.
Consequently, Miranda had to go personally to the shoot and instill the fear of God in them so that everything would proceed according to plan. As expected, she succeeded, but not before seeing the disappointed and disheartened faces of the people she loves most in the world.
No one can blame her for firing the model and giving her a piece of her mind. The blonde (what a surprise) will be lucky if they hire her to be a model for Crocs.
Imagine her bewilderment when she arrived home and found her twins, her adorable Bobbseys, without their characteristic red hair, without the Priestly mark.
Unbelievable.
And if that wasn't enough, her poor dog, her Patricia, who she had taken such good care of her coat, was now painted pink like a damn cow, and the cherry on top, Roy's head.
For Christ's sake, she has to give him a raise.
The twins, God knows where they got it from, pulled out a razor and shaved off part of his hair. The poor man couldn't even put his hands up before he had a zero line from ear to ear. Obviously, Roy, the pimp, said he asked them to do it to be "fashionable."
"Fashionable my ass," thought the editor, but she was so embarrassed that without looking him in the eye, she gave him the weekend off and $300 so he could go and save what was left of his hair.
—Bobbseys, I'm waiting.
The twins, communicating mentally, prepared the arguments to defend themselves in the trial of their lives. Caroline nods, letting her counterpart know that she would initiate the defense.
—Moms, it was not our fault. It was Rachel's —she looks defiantly at her mother.
Cassidy raises her painted hands, crashing them against her forehead. They will definitely be grounded until college.
Before her mother can refute her twin, she jumps.
—Mom, what Caroline meant was that Rachel dared us to do it and we could not refuse. Besides, like you have always told us, a Priestly is never defeated by someone inferior.
Andre, unable to contain herself, lets out a nervous laugh, burying her face in her hands.
Three pairs of blue eyes watch her, one incredulous and the rest hopeful.
If anyone can get them out of this mess, it's their Mama.
—Andrea, by all means share the joke, so we can all laugh together —Miranda says sarcastically.
The journalist, facing worse situations than this, doesn't even flinch.
—Baby, you have to admit you are partly to blame. Her Priestly genes are responsible for this shit show.
—Yes, Mom! —the twins chime in.
Even Patricia barks, in favor.
Miranda, angry, offended, and absurd by the situation, laughs uproariously.
Her wife, daughters and dog look at her as if she's lost her damn mind. Probably she has, and it's her family's fault.
—Good Lord —she breathes, her stomach aching.
—Mom, does that mean we are forgiven? —Cassidy asks. She and Caroline give her their most angelic smiles.
—Nice try, Bobbseys. You and your sister will be lucky if you are no longer grounded at university. Now, can someone explain to me what that girl Rachel has to do with this? The last time we spoke, I was under the impression she stopped being your friend.
Both twins nods.
—We were at school yesterday, studying hard —Andrea laughs softly, shaking her head. Only a Priestly— When that idiot, excuse my expression, started bothering Caro again. Who, by the way has been after her out of envy for her curls —Caroline's hair is curlier than Cassidy's, but not by much— And challenged us in front of the class, saying we wouldn't dare change our hair color because we would be ugly.
—Obviously, we stood up for ourselves and told her that even pink would suit us, because our beauty is natural and not something we have created, like her and her tons of makeup — a grimace of disgust spreads across Caroline's face, the same one Miranda wore.
—So, to avoid being called Priestly chickens, we agreed that we would make the change today and well… we did —Cassidy concludes.
—And Roy's hair? —she asks, giving them her inquisitive look.
The twins barely lower their heads.
—It was an accident, Mom.
—We swear! This time, it really was an accident.
Andrea, who has been quiet, curiously asks them what happened.
—Dad gave it to us the last time we went on vacation with him —Cass begins.
—But he never told us it had batteries —Caroline clarifies, emphasizing the point.
—So when Roy came in and saw us with our pink hair, he was stunned.
—It was funny, Moms, his mouth was wide open like the scream painted.
The twins started laughing, but stopped abruptly when their mother gave them a stern, disapproving look. Anyone else would have peed, but not a Priestly.
—Then, girls? —Andrea asks, breaking the tension. She knew her wife was making a superhuman effort not to lose her temper.
Caroline and Cassidy look at each other, overthinking whether to tell the truth or embellish a little bit.
—Cassidy and Caroline Priestly, I am waiting.
The truth it is.
—We took his hands and helped him sit on the couch.
—I went to get a glass of water while Cass watched him because we thought he was going to have a heart attack.
—We talked to him, but he only said monosyllables. Like Mama when she wakes up.
—Yes, he was like a zombie —Andrea's indignation is ignored by the three Priestly.
—So, to wake him up from the shock, we thought about using a bucket of ice water —Cass reveals.
Miranda just sighs, clutching the bridge of her nose.
—But we didn't, Mom! We opted for the razor instead.
—What we didn't know was that it had batteries. We were only going to use it to 'wake him up' from the shock. But… —Cass looks at Caroline.
—We accidentally pressed the button and…
—WHAM! —Cass claps, making Andrea jump.
—Wham? —Miranda asks incredulously.
—We shaved his hair —Caroline whispers quickly.
—ACCIDENTALLY! — the twins conclude in unison.
Andrea, from the stairs with Patricia, watches the scene. Her wife is stunned by such a tale, and Heavens knows that the twins have done worse things, like the food fight at school, flooding the bathroom to turn it into an aquarium or running away from their father and returning home alone from Mexico. But this is the last straw for Miranda, maybe it's because they dyed their hair at eleven, they've had the chauffeur's haircut and they dye Patricia's fur, which Miranda spends an absurd amount of money on to keep it looking shiny. It's no wonder they have the damn title of best-cared-for Saint Bernard in all New York, for Christ's sake.
Andy bites her lip to keep from laughing uncontrollably, or else her wife will make her sleep on the couch, despite the three guest rooms in the townhouse.
Trying to control her breathing, she runs a hand over Patricia's fur. Locking down, her hand is wet with pink paint.
A lightbulb goes off in her head.
—Cass, Caro, where's the box you used to paint yourselves?
—We throw it away, Mama —Cass says.
—Why?
Miranda raises an eyebrow, questioning Andrea.
—Because if I'm right, luckily for you, it's just fancy paint. Nothing a bath with all your mother's products can't remove.
The four Priestly look at Andy hopefully. She laughs, getting up.
—Okay, monkeys, here's what we will do. As I assume, you have already taken the picture and completed your dare —the twins nod without a hint of remorse— Good. Put on shorts, any shirt you don't want and sandals. I want you with me in the yard in less than five minutes.
The twins look at each other, shrugging their shoulders. They run toward the stairs, ignoring Miranda's request not to run on them.
—Andrea, why do you need that? It's almost nine o'clock.
—Mira, we will wash their hair and fur in the yard —her wife stares at her in disbelief— Luckily for us, we are in the middle of a heat wave, so they won't be cold. It's that or let them sleep in their beds on their expensive sheets, getting everything dirty, and don't even get me started on Patricia, your white living room will turn pink. You choice.
Miranda nods defeated, sighing in exasperation. The good thing is that she already has white hair but knowing her daughters, one day they will give her green, purple and blue hair if not a heart attack.
—Come on, Paty. Oh and Baby —blue and brown gaze— I need help with our daughters and puppy. Chop, chop, chop Priestly.
Andrea turns around, laughing loudly.
God is great, otherwise Miranda's eye sockets would be hanging off and her jaw would never recover from how wide it opened.
Unbelievable.
In her kingdom, she commands forces with a single glance, and here, she is a damn clown, if they obey her, she's lucky.
—Chop, chop Mom —the twins laugh, passing Miranda, following their Mama.
—God give me strength —she murmurs with a small smile on her lips.
They are little devils, but they are her little dragons and she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.
She hears her daughters' laughter and his dog barking. Approaching the window, she watches as the four of them get soaked with the hose and (where the hell did they come from?) water balloons. Her wife is just as drenched as her three little terrors; at least the paint is slowly coming off.
Between Andrea, her twins, Patricia and Runaway, it's a miracle she's still sane, but she wouldn't trade it for all the gold in the world.
Unlocking her phone, she captures the moment of Andrea holding Patricia while Cassidy and Caroline playfully drench her, also getting her wife dirty with paint.
Pure chaos, but they are her chaos.
Forever.