by Tara Lain
“Basically, you staring into the eyes of some human spider of a man that I will admit had eyes few woman would refuse to gaze into because he is sexy as hell.”
“Fuck.”
“You looked like you’d been hypnotized and might start yowling like a cat in heat if he told you to.”
“Double fuck.”
She plopped on the bench next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “The only good thing is I know you really well and Mark doesn’t. You can probably convince him you were weirded out by the guy.” She stood and waved her arms. “Or better yet, just call and tell him you had to desperately run to the back room because you were scared something happened to, uh, your gran, and when you came back he was gone and tell him how grateful you are and ignore the feral guy altogether. What do you think of that for a strategy?”
“Not the worst I’ve heard.” Actually, it wasn’t really bad. He blew out a breath. “The weird thing is, the guy with the eyes, his name is Brock, by the way, actually gave me a card and says he wants to get together with me after I’ve looked at his website or something.”
“That actually is weird. Like pervy, stalker No wonder you looked strange.” She glanced at the big, industrial style clock on the wall. “We better get out there and do some clean up before we don’t have jobs.”
“Be right there.”
She ran out and Red grabbed his phone and texted, Where did you go? Wanted to thank you so much for all you did for Gran—and me. Will call later. Okay, that was pretty lame but not a complete lie. He did want to thank Mark. If he’d been late coming to that realization, he might confess that later. He needed time to sort out how he really felt about everything.
For an hour, he worked flat-out trying to make up for shirking. He left no mustard, ketchup or sugar dispenser unfilled. Hell, he even pitched in and washed a few pots, even though that was miles from his job.
Kimmie stuck her head in the scullery. “Gotta go, Boo. Call me once you, uh, check the Internet, right?”
“Okay.” Damn. He’d kind of hoped to get to walk home with her. Since the night of the Phil attack, he hadn’t gone home alone. Mostly, he’d hitched rides. Still, fifteen minutes later, he exited Mom and Pop’s by himself and tried to feel confident as he trotted onto Arden Street. Spookily, he hadn’t caught sight of Phil Gordat since he’d last seen him lying on the grass looking beaten up. It had to be dumb to think Phil had nothing better to do than stalk Red, right? Right?
Still. The shivers running up his spine could have caused a small earthquake, and he increased his speed.
“Red!”
Red gasped at the huge sound and his heart slammed against his chest at the voice.
Wait. That’s a woman.
He slowed his steps then stopped and looked around.
“Red. Come here, please.”
This time, the whispery sound clearly belonged to Mrs. Delphi, but that first call had practically reverberated off the houses and the trees.
Red took a deep breath and jogged over to Mrs. Delphi’s yard. Interesting that it was three houses behind where he’d been standing. How did I hear her? “Yes ma’am?”
“Come up here, please.”
Odd. Mrs. Delphi seldom invited people into her house and certainly not at that hour of the night. The porch wasn’t inside, but still…
With a feeling of awe, Red stepped onto Mrs. Delphi’s porch. Wow. Two candles burned on the small wicker table, wafting some intense, spicy scent into the air. Wind chimes tinkled from the potted trees in the corners and on the table sat two cups of what looked like tea.
Mrs. Delphi sat in a rocking chair, her long, wild, silver hair standing out from her head as if there was a stiff wind. But there was no wind. Not even a breeze. She waved a slim, papery hand toward the empty rocking chair in front of the other cup. “Please, join me.”
Red might be tired and upset and scared and anxious to get home, but no one, no one would refuse an invitation from Mrs. Delphi. If you were a kid, you might accept for fear she’d turn you into a toad if you refused. Adults could be honored, curious—or scared of being a toad. Red felt some combo of the three. No one ever explained where Mrs. Delphi’s mystical reputation came from, but no one ever denied it.
Red smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.” Sitting carefully on the edge of the rocker, he waited for her to pick up her cup, then sipped from his. OMG. His favorite flavor on earth was caramel and this tea tasted like a cup full of hot, melty caramel that slid across his tongue and burst in his brain. “This is wonderful.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
He settled back into the seat and rocked as he drank. Suddenly, everything felt—okay. Better than okay. Kind of like peaceful and excited at the same time.
She didn’t seem to want to talk and, despite some tiny refrain in the brain that said he should be polite and make conversation, he felt completely comfortable not talking.
Just as he took a mouthful of the tea that seemed to not decrease as he drank and the flavor exploded in his mouth, a car drove down Arden Avenue, slowly, with headlights off.
Red’s brain totally got that inside the car sat Phil Gordat and as many of his assholes as he could assemble. Somehow, though, he didn’t panic. Almost automatically, he took another drink and the flavor didn’t dull. It was like an observer sat outside his body watching the car go by, while he enjoyed a cup of tea with Mrs. Delphi.
For several more minutes, Mrs. Delphi continued rocking.
Slurp. Suddenly, Red’s cup emptied. He sipped the last mouthful and stared at the cup, feeling a little like a sleepwalker, not entirely sure what had just happened.
A warm hand touched his arm, and he jumped.
Mrs. Delphi grinned, smile lines fanning out around her brilliant eyes—eyes that seemed to be some wild shade of yellow/gold. “Thank you so much for joining me, Red.”
“No ma’am. Thank you.” He stood and felt a desire to tell her she saved his life. Wait, does she know that? Did she do this on purpose?
He turned and looked at her. She gazed back at him with that slightly unfocused, abstracted look people talked about. That was why the good folks of Ever After said she was batty.
He smiled. And batty people don’t save your life on purpose. “Maybe you’d like to come and have tea with me and my gran sometime.”
“That’s very kind of you. Walk home quickly, all right?”
“Yes, I will.” Impulsively, he blew her a kiss and she giggled. Yes, actually giggled. He didn’t know much about witches, but he was pretty sure they didn’t giggle. He descended the steps and started to trot.
“Walk quickly, Red.”
“What?”
“Walk—quickly.”
“Oh. Okay.” He turned and walked—fast. Some little remnant of the peace and excitement still bubbled in his veins, but anxiety seeped in like he was breathing it in the air.
When he got to his house, he took a breath. What would he find inside?
Walk fast! The words echoed through him and he ran up his stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside. As he started to close it, he heard the rumble of Phil’s old engine. Peeking through the gap in the door, he watched the hated vehicle cruise by.
How did Phil know I’d be alone tonight?
Hell, that wasn’t the big question. How did Mrs. Delphi manage to keep me on her porch just long enough? Hell, maybe she is a witch.
He shuddered and his eyes teared. It had been nice believing for a few days that maybe Phil had moved away or, at least given up chasing Red. His stomach heaved, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from barfing on Gran’s entry rug.
“Redmond, darling. Is that you?” She looked in, saw him, then grabbed his arm.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head as if maybe he could make it all go away, like Mrs. Delphi’s tea. “I just saw Phil Gordat.”
“Where?” She frowned.
He blinked slowly. “Cruising down our street with his lights off.”
>
“Oh.” She frowned ferociously. “I’m calling the police. I don’t care if his uncle is the sheriff. That juvenile delinquent needs to be put away.”
“You can’t, Gran. He didn’t do anything except drive with his lights off. That’s not legal, but all he has to do is claim it was an oversight.” He wiped a hand over his face. “If it wasn’t for Mrs. Delphi, you might be calling the cops over my murder.”
“What do you mean?”
“She invited me onto her porch for tea. While I was sitting there, Phil drove by the first time. If I’d kept walking, he would have caught me.”
“Amazing. There’s always been more to Athena than meets the eye.”
“Is she a witch?”
She gave a mysterious smile. “What’s a witch?” She led him into the living room.
Red looked around, as the slight smell of paint and cleaning fluid seeped into his addled attention span. “Wow. This place looks amazing.”
“Doesn’t it? Did you buy Mark’s dinner as I asked?” A crease popped between her eyebrows. “Wait, I would have thought Mark would bring you home.”
He stared at his sneakers. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“Oh dear. Sounds like we need to sit down.”
Chapter Nine
For a second, Red stared around at the almost too immaculate living room, then flopped on the couch and started talking. He poured out how he’d misunderstood and acted badly and tried to text Mark, but he never texted back.
Gran frowned even deeper. “So wait, I’m confused. You were upset with Mark because he didn’t come back to his business to pick you up and take you to work.”
“I know, what a dumb, selfish, prima donna move, right?”
“Not entirely. I mean we often get annoyed with people who seem to take us for granted, even if we’re misinformed.”
“Yeah.” He snorted softly. “But I said I was doing his books to thank him for something he already did for me. Aka saved my life. It wasn’t supposed to be a quid pro quo, until I got all huffy and made it one.”
“So you’ve learned something important. But I still don’t quite understand why Mark left the restaurant. He obviously came to see you and likely he planned to bring you home. Did you yell at him when he got there?”
“No. I was working.” Red crossed his arms, realized how bad that body language was, and unfolded his arms casually. Okay, so he hadn’t fully explained. “When Mark came in, I was, uh, waiting on a customer.” Oh hell. “These city people came to Mom and Pop’s the other day and one of them came back. He, uh, says he wants to talk to me about something and he gave me a card and I was kind of weirded out and just at that second, Mark walked up. It probably looked kind of—”
“Weird?” She raised both brows.
“Yeah.”
“So what did this customer want?”
He inhaled. Might as well just finish this confession. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Anyway, so Mark looked —I don’t know—I decided he was shocked and—” He stood and started pacing. “In my stupid brain I’m like ‘who are you to be looking shocked at me when you didn’t even come to get me and let me take the bus to work and I could have been late’ so I go huffing back to my order counter all up in myself and ignoring him, and then Kimmie tells me that you’re calling and I go running back to my phone and talk to you and get the most instant karma the universe ever delivered and when I came back out, Mark is gone, just like I deserved.”
“So you were making eyes at your customer?” The eyebrows again.
“Uh, is that all you got out of that whole speech?”
“I think it’s what Mark got from it.”
When in doubt, stare at your hands. He flopped back on the couch.
“Redmond, we recently had a conversation about how you should be so lucky to have Mark Woods be the man of your dreams. Today, that man came over here and worked his very attractive buns off doing things for me he certainly didn’t have to do—and of course, did them all for you. Meanwhile, you’re flirting with someone else.” He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you flirting with multiple guys, Red. You’re only eighteen and certainly don’t have to settle down to monogamy yet.” Again, he opened his mouth. She said, “But I expect you to be responsible in your relationships. You’ve obviously worked hard to let this very private young man know that you like him, and just when he opens up a little to show that he returns the preference, you’re moving on to some city guy.”
“I’m not, honest.”
“Oh? So how did he—” She made air quotes. “—weird you out?”
Oh God, how did he get into this conversation with his grandmother? “This dude is really, I don’t know, I guess sexy. Like mysterious and compelling. So, he gave me his card.” He reached into his pocket and extracted the piece of shiny paper. “-- and said I should look at his website and then he wanted to talk to me about some proposition or something.” He waved the card between his fingers.
“May I see?” She held out her hand.
He glanced at the card-- Brock B. Wolfe—then put it in her grasp.
With a very suspicious expression, she put on her reading glasses and stared at the card. It was like ice melting. The sharp crease between her brows relaxed, her narrowed eyes widened, and her lips formed into a silent O. “Redmond, do you know who this person is?”
“Uh, Brock. He told me that was his name. I just saw Wolfe, so I guess Brock Wolfe.”
“But do you know who Brock Wolfe is?” She stared at him liked she’d just said Brad Pitt.
“No. Should I?”
“Mr. Wolfe is the CEO of BrandFace, one of the most famous modeling and spokesperson agencies in the world.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “And you say that he wants you to investigate his website and then talk with him about a proposition?”
Red’s heart hammered and fear dribbled down his back. “That’s what he said.”
Her hands crept to her mouth. “Do you know what this could mean?”
Oh shit.
She waved her hands in front of her face. “Okay, okay. I’m not going to count unhatched chickens. We’re going to go to bed and rest up for our adventure tomorrow, but first, you’re going to check Brock Wolfe’s website and fully appreciate the opportunity that might have sat himself at your table at Mom and Pop’s.” She clapped her hands together.
“Uh, Gran. What should I do about Mark, do you think?”
“Oh!” She looked like her head broke water in a swimming pool. “Of course. Apologize and thank him profusely.”
He nodded.
“But don’t be too pushy about getting together, because you’re really not going to have any time, I’m sure.” She rose, crossed to him, kissed his cheek, and popped a finger on his nose. “I’ll lock up. You go check the BrandFace website.” With a glowing smile, she headed to the kitchen to turn off the lights.
Red stared after her. What the hell just happened?
A half hour later, he knew. BrandFace was a huge, f-ing deal and so, it seemed, was Brock B. Wolfe. He’d started his agency in the middle of NYC with two great male faces, both of whom Red recognized. They’d been unique, and clients—both fashion brands and ad agencies-- had started snapping them up. From there, Wolfe added more and more unusual models, old and young, exotic and everyman, abled and specially abled. Nobody outfoxed the Wolfe they said when it came to choosing faces people could never forget.
Red snapped the lid of his laptop closed and flopped back on his bed. Does Wolfe want me? Fuck, who am I kidding? Wolfe was famous for choosing unique looks and Red had spent his whole life being told how different and special his face was. Quadruple fuck.
Okay, what if he does want me? What does that mean? Getting on a train or bus a couple times a month, traveling into the city to make a few extra dollars? Hell, he wouldn’t hate that. He could help Gran more. Maybe he could save for college, or better yet, to start a business of some kind that he could run
, or—jeez! He hadn’t called Mark.
He snapped up his phone and dialed without thinking about it. If he tried to figure out what to say, he’d chicken out.
“This is Mark Woods. Leave me a message.” Beep.
A funny sound came out of Red’s throat but he forced himself to speak. “I’m so sorry I acted like an asshole. When you didn’t come back to the garage I thought,—I don’t even know what. Anyway, I got weird and acted accordingly and I totally apologize and can’t thank you enough for what you did for Gran and me, but that’s not the reason I apologize.” He snorted. “Wait that came out wrong, but I mean I’m sorry and I’m grateful and—jeez, I’m messing this up so bad. I should just quit trying and—”
The line clicked. “I’m sorry I acted badly too.”
A whoosh of air collapsed out of Red’s chest when he heard Mark’s voice. “Oh man, not your fault. Totally mine.”
“No. I should have told you what I was doing instead of just disappearing and then not coming to get you. You must have thought I was a huge asshole for not appreciating all your hard work. But first I was afraid you’d try to stop me, and later I got this idea it would be a cool surprise.”
Red gripped the bridge of his nose. “Oh, it was totally. I’m so amazed at what you did. This place is unrecognizable. I mean, Christasy’s going to get here and think we had this perfect, pristine house all the time. She’ll never know.” Red laughed, a little hysterically in relief. Mark wasn’t pissed. Whew.
Mark’s voice was soft. “I guess I built up this big surprise in my brain and I came in and, well, you were really distracted and then you seemed angry and —I realized that— I mean, I should do things for themselves and not because I expect something in return and I’m sorry.”
Might as well plunge. “You see, just before you came in, this customer gave me his card and said he wanted me to meet with him to discuss something.”
Mark gave a soft snort.
“No, not like that. He said I should look at his website and it turns out he’s this owner of a big New York modeling agency. Anyway, when I saw you I was being weirded out by this man and, you know, all the other stuff. Red the Diva shit.”
