EJM02 - Evie Jones and the Good Luck Fundraiser

by Gibbons, Amie

  EVIE JONES AND THE GOOD LUCK FUNDRAISER

  AN EVIE JONES SHORT

  AMIE GIBBONS

  Copyright © 2015 by Amie Gibbons

  Cover art and design © 2015 Oleg Volk

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2015

  Gremlin Publishing

  Nashville, TN.

  https://amiecuscuriae.wordpress.com/

  For my kitteh

  Because he knows how to calm me down

  And when to let me spaz

  “I’m going to fail the bar again,” Ashley said, eyes wide. She took a gulp of her beer, staring past me into the restaurant like she was watching her legal career wash away. “I’m going to fail and get fired and that’ll be it. In this economy, when employers find out I took three tries to pass the bar and lost my firm job because of it, I won’t even get hired at the Public Defender’s office.”

  “Oy vey. No,” I said, shaking my finger at her. “Hey, look here.”

  She sighed, looking me in the eye.

  “You are not going to fail again. You had some bad luck last time. You were sick and got blindsided with harder questions than expected. That’s all.” I held up two fingers about a centimeter apart. “You failed by this much. Which sucks! Because you were right there. But that means this time.” I tapped the wood table. “This time, you got this.”

  She looked at me like she wanted to throw her drink in my face. “Evie, I say this with all the love in the world, but shut up and stop being the perky pixy. I want to wallow. I want to cry, and say why me, and bitch about the fact that I failed by half a percent. Because being right there, knowing if I’d checked A instead of B on one or two multiple choices, or put one more paragraph in an essay, and I wouldn’t be going through this hell again, is devastating. Okay?”

  “Nope, because if you believe you’re going to pass, you’ll do better. It’s all about positive thinking.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t go in for all that New Agey stuff.”

  I bit my tongue. No, literally, because I wanted to say, “I come from a long line of witches. I practice techniques to track and move energies, and I do spells and potions dating back to the Druids. My ancestors helped build Stonehenge. I’m old age, baby.”

  You can’t say that to normal people in modern day Utah.

  Or, you know, to Mormons.

  Hey, if they get to call me weird for my charms and crystals, I get to call them weird for their magic underwear. Fair’s fair.

  I stuck my tongue out at her.

  Ashley smiled and took another drink of her beer.

  “No really,” I said. “Studies have shown if you believe something, like you’ll do well on a test or in an interview, it affects your body. It’s why placebos work. It’s the mind telling the body it should be getting better, so it does. You wear a good luck charm to a test, you think it’ll work, just slightly, so you’re more confident on the test. And that’s usually what gets people. They get scared, lose confidence, second guess themselves, and eat up time.”

  “So you’re saying it’s like Friday the Thirteenth? You think there’s bad luck, so there’s more accidents and stuff? People are all… what’s that word you use? Shlimzl? Or…?

  “Shlimazel,” I said, grinning because she wasn’t too far off. “You know, since people in western cultures believe it’s a bad luck day, their good luck floats off them and then black cats scoop it up.”

  She stared at me for a moment then burst out laughing. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  Ha! She thought I was kidding.

  It’s not luck per se. It’s good energy. The stuff people make every day with their thoughts and deeds. It’s been called luck, karma, chi, the Tau, and of course, the Force. It’s all the same idea. Energy.

  And when millions of people have the idea a day is bad luck, even if they don’t really believe it, they shed a little of their good energy just by the collective thought it’s possibly a bad luck day.

  I grinned, shrugging. “Oh, you know, it’s in my New Agey books.” I took a sip of my wine. “Though, it’s not only black cats that can scoop luck up, they just have better marketing people, built their trademark as the bad luck kitties. All cats can do it.”

  She snorted. “Too bad we can’t get those cats to pass some luck to me.”

  I froze with my glass halfway up to my lips.

  Now there was an idea!

  ###

  “I have a great idea,” I said to Faye on the phone. “Actually, it was Ashley’s, and she was joking. You know the Cat Luck Scramble on the Thirteenth? What if we do that this year, only instead of keeping the energy, we donate it to Ashley and your husband, so they have more luck on the bar this time?”

  Faye didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Are you high?”

  “Haha, you’re hilarious. No. I’m serious. You already know how to do the spell. You have Missy do it every Friday the Thirteenth. What if we ask the others to have their cats do their normal gathering, but instead of using it themselves, they donate to a good cause? We’ll store it in the necklaces, or something more manly for George, and give them to George and Ashley the day before the bar.”

  Another pause. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah! Why not?”

  “Welllllll, I mean, it’s possible. The cats never gather a lot. It’s more a silly novelty than anything anyone’s ever put to good use. But if we got our friends with cats to do it and put it in just two places, it might be concentrated enough to give them a boost.”

  “And they’ve both been studying so hard,” I said. “While they’ve been working. They need the extra good vibes. Ashley is strung out and barely functioning. I had to drag her to dinner tonight to get her to take a break, and I’m sure George is right there too. The mindset Ashley’s in? She’s going to psych herself out of passing. And there’s a Friday the Thirteenth right before the bar. It’s bashert! What do you think?”

  She paused. “I know why I’d want to give it to George, he’s my husband. Why are you so hell bent on helping Ashley? This isn’t going to be easy, and it won’t make a big difference, especially if she doesn’t believe in it.”

  “She’s my friend. This is what friends do. Even when one of them is cranky-pants.”

  “Yeah, Ashley can be a bit of a downer.”

  “So can I. And when I was a downer mess One-L Spring finals, she was one of the people kicking my sorry butt to study so I didn’t flunk out. You were another one of those people, which is why I babysit your kid. It’s more of a trade. See, I’m not a good friend, I’m a good vibes capitalist.”

  She laughed, making me grin.

  “Okay,” Faye said, “I’m in.”

  “Yae! I’ll call the Coven.”

  The Coven rents a hotel lobby for our monthly meetings to accommodate the two hundred or so of us who usually show up. But since this was an informal meeting called with two days’ notice, Dad suggested we rent out the party room loft at Squatters Pub instead.

  We reserve places as a book club. In some states you can say coven and people go with it. Usually with a thumbs up and a blurry-eyed, “New Age? Duuuude.” In Utah, New Aged, Pagan, Wicca, even Goths equals devil worship. Salt Lake’s better than the rest of the state, but still, not worth the attention.

  “Faye!” I bounced off my barstool and rushed Faye soon as her dark blonde hair caught my eye
across the bar. “Gahhhh, haven’t seen you in like a month.”

  We hugged and she laughed as we broke apart. People always think we’re sisters because we’re both slim with similar cheekbones and noses. But she’s blond, blue eyed and pale to my brunet, brown and naturally tan.

  “So, how does this work?” I asked.

  “Usually we let the cats out on Friday the Thirteenth and they wander their neighborhoods, bringing whatever they scoop up back where we use the energy gathering spell to take it in. We capture the luck in crystals and whoever gets the most wins the prize.”

  “There’s prizes?” I asked. “Good ones?”

  “Last time’s was a seven day cruise in the Bahamas.”

  “Nice!”

  “Yeah. Wish you’d gotten a cat earlier, huh?”

  I nodded. “Little bit. Almost worth dealing with the furry sociopaths. Almost.”

  Faye went to the front of the room after it looked like we weren’t going to get any more than the thirty or so people. Since she did this every year, she could explain and ask everyone for their help. I’d jump in if needed, but cats weren’t my area.

  She ran through the idea, stressing they wouldn’t miss out too much since Friday the Thirteenth was in February and March, so they’d get a chance to gather luck next month.

  “But how will we know who wins this time?” one of the guys asked after Faye finished.

  “Same as before,” Faye said. “Use the crystals. Only after we measure it, we pool it and give it to my husband and Evie’s friend. It’s more of a cute idea than anything we think will make a difference on the bar. It’ll just help with their confidence.”

  “How will this help them though?” Maggie, the old crone that painted all witches with that stereotype asked. From her cheap, tacky jewelry to her K-Mart shoes, she screamed welfare mom even though she was middle class with no kids.

  “They’ll get the luck and take it into the test.”

  “Yes, but how will it help if they don’t know about it?”

  My eyes flew wide and I waved at Faye from the back of the room, swinging my arms wide and shaking my head.

  She didn’t see me because she said, “We’ll tell them the necklaces have luck in them.”

  Oy vey! And there it was. I slammed my palm to my forehead. I loved Faye, but there were times I wanted to give her the stupidest smart person award.

  “No,” Maggie said, smugness obvious in her voice even though I couldn’t see her face. “You know we can’t tell humans about us.”

  “No, no, no,” Faye said with an easy smile, like she anticipated this.

  I shook my head. She didn’t know Maggie like I did.

  “We’re going to tell them as kind of a joke,” Faye said. They’ll have it in their heads that it’s good luck without really believing it. It should still work, though.”

  At least she wasn’t clueless enough to say her husband already knew. If you’re married, everyone knows the spouse will know, but they don’t know.

  “No,” Maggie said. Gee, wonder what her favorite word was. “It either won’t work because they won’t believe, in which case, you’re taking from everyone for no gain, or they’ll believe it.” She paused for dramatic effect and I resisted the urge to make gagging sounds. “And then we’ll be facing the next witch trials.”

  Oy vey. “Come on!” I shouted from the back, making the crowd whirl. Haha, it was like a witches’ line dance. “This is ridiculous. Humans buy charms all the time.” I pointed to Hallie. “Hallie’s shop wouldn’t stay open if it was just witches buying stuff. Humans go in there for all kinds of New Age crap. Have you seen any witch hunters going after her? No. Would humans spend the money if they didn’t believe at least a little? No! And this is Utah! If there’s any place in America people would go after witches, it’d be here.”

  I crossed my arms as Maggie stared me down over the crowd. She wasn’t that old, maybe fifty. But she may as well have been a hundred for how she acted.

  “Anyone who wants to help out, please raise your hand,” I said. “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings. This is us asking for donations, not demanding them at gunpoint. It’s a fundraiser, not taxes.”

  People laughed and hands started going up.

  “You’re all-” Maggie said.

  “Anyone who thinks Maggie is a bitter, old yenta who needs to get a life and butt out of other peoples’, raise your hands,” I said over her.

  More laughter ran through the crowd as hands shot up and I grinned at her. Okay, it was bitchy, and normally I’m not that mean. But she’d been knocking me down since I was old enough to spell because she hated Dad.

  “You try this, I’ll report you to the Council,” Maggie said, face twisted in a smirk.

  The laughter shut off like she hit a switch.

  My mouth dropped and I closed it, shaking my head. “No way. She’s bluffing,” I said loud enough for everyone before meeting her eyes. “You wouldn’t call attention to us like that. You know the Council would be up all our asses at even the hint of letting humans know something. Forget about me, what about people like Hallie? The second they knew she sold anything that could be used to make real magic? They wouldn’t just shut her down, they’d toss her in Oz.”

  “You are not that petty,” I said, my tone a challenge. If she went ahead with this, everyone would be on my side. They’d think she was a treacherous, fear monger.

  Hopefully.

  “Following the rules isn’t petty. It’s being a good citizen.”

  “Not when the rules are totalitarian bull meant to exert power over people!”

  She grinned. She would’ve been pretty if she wasn’t so full of spite. “So typical of the Joneses. The rules don’t apply to you. Everyone else should be good, follow the rules and make sure society keeps on going. But if a few break the rules, everything will be fine. Just as long as you Joneses are the ones who get to benefit by being the rule breakers, right?”

  I opened my mouth but she kept talking.

  “And anyone trying this or even helping those stupid enough to try this, I will report you to the Council, making sure they know the rest of us tried to stop you. I think letting them know there are some of us here policing their rules will keep them from checking in on us too much.”

  ###

  “No,” Faye said. “You heard that… that…”

  “Bitch?” I said. “Harpy? A few other words I couldn’t kiss my mom after saying?”

  “Yes.” Faye pushed her blond hair back, holding her head for a moment. “We can’t do this.”

  “I could beat her up. I’ve been practicing since the zombie attack. My magic’s never been stronger.”

  “I still can’t believe you left my kid alone.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still harping on that. It was either leave baby or wait for the zombie to attack.”

  “Wait for the zombie to attack! It’s always wait for the zombie to attack.” She reached up like she was going to wring my neck but grinned. “You could’ve holed up inside and waited.”

  “He could’ve gone after someone else. We’ve been over this. Heat of the moment, I was going off adrenaline, and… yeah, that’s pretty much it. We’re getting off topic.”

  “I meant to.” Faye sighed. “She’ll tell the Council.”

  “You know, I’m getting really sick of the Council hovering over us.”

  “And that’s why I was trying to get us off topic.”

  I ignored her. “Can’t do this, can’t do that. What if the humans find out? It’s for the good of us all. It’s the twenty-first century! Humans should know. And you know what, the Council can bite me.”

  Faye paled, looking around her living room like she was afraid they were listening in. Hell, for all I knew they were. It wasn’t like they had any respect for privacy. It was for the good of us all for them to keep an eye on witches, to keep us in line so we didn’t hurt ourselves or expose our secret.

  Antiquated bullshit used
by dictators that got off on power.

  “Evie,” Faye said. “I know you don’t like the Council and they can be… heavy handed.” She looked around again and I rolled my eyes. “But they’re our governing authority and they have thrown witches in Oz for less. Be. Careful.”

  “Grrrrrr,” I said, picking up my glass of wine. “Okay, fine. I’ll be a good little girl and not say anything that could get me a treason charge, well… anything else. But we should still do the Luck Scramble.”

  “And we can. I’ll do it with my cat and you can get a cat and do it with her.” She looked around and twisted her fingers, making the air pop.

  A sound shield just in case anyone was listening. I grinned.

  “This whole thing started as a joke anyway,” Faye said, “not as a legitimate way to give them enough luck to make a difference. I mean, the questions are already made, how much good could luck really do?”

  “It’s a boost. It makes people think clearer, have more energy… more confidence. Hell, it’s a triple espresso wrapped up with some good ol’ liquid courage.” I toasted her with my glass. “They know the material. That’s not the problem. Their mental states are, or at least Ashley’s is. You haven’t told me how George is doing.”

  “He’s freaking out.” She took a gulp of wine and I nodded at her to continue. “He keeps looking at stats, saying not even twenty percent fail the Utah bar and how could he be so stupid. He’s drinking more and he has a hard time sleeping… yeah, he could use the confidence boost.”

  She stared into her wine like it held answers to marriage she could dig down to find.

  “How bad?” I asked.

  She looked up, meeting my eyes. “Bad. He’s… broken. And I can’t help.”

  I nodded. “That settles it. I’ll get a cat. At the very least we’ll give them what we catch on Friday, every little bit helps.”

  ###

  “And all of our animals are fully up to date on their shots, free from parasites, spayed or neutered, and looking for a good home,” Ariel, the woman who bounced up to us when we entered the shelter said, clapping her hands together before folding them in front of her.