by Susan Harper
“Thank goodness,” Monica said, pouring him some coffee.
He scrunched his face up for a moment, and Monica could tell that his memories of the day were coming back to him. “Aww…” he leaned over, gripping his stomach. “I feel like I’m going to throw up… Why did I eat that burger at lunch today?” Then his face turned a bright red. “Aww, man… Monica, I’ve been such a creep today! I am so sorry! I don’t… I don’t know what got into me… Wait… How did we get to your shop?”
Monica smiled, glad that Brian was back to his usual self.
9
Monica could tell that Brian wanted to leave. He was humiliated after his behavior that day, and Monica was feeling incredibly guilty for having essentially drugged the man into that strange behavior. But she was determined to keep him from running off. They had developed a friendship, the first she’d ever had with a mortal, and she didn’t want to lose it. Just as Brian was jumping up from his seat, quite eager to leave, the man gripped his stomach. “Seriously,” he groaned. “What was I thinking downing that burger?”
“Hold on… I think I have something that might help that stomachache of yours,” Monica said, opening up the mini fridge. Monica sifted through some of her potions she had set up in various water bottles, eventually settling on one that was glowing a bright orange.
Abigail, who was seated under the table where the mini fridge was set up, hissed up at her. Monica knelt and whispered, “I know—half the regular dosage,” she muttered, rolling her eyes at her cat. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Brian had sat back down, still gripping onto his stomach like he had swallowed a plate of rocks. Monica poured a bit of her potion into a coffee mug and then mixed it with some water to settle down the glow so as not to draw attention to the mystical nature of the concoction. “Here you go!” she said, handing the mug over to Brian.
He looked into the mug, scrunching up his face doubtfully. “What is this?” he asked.
“It’s a, um…off-brand…asporyun.”
“Aspirin?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Monica insisted. “You can only get it in Chicago. It works great, trust me.”
“If you say so,” he said, taking a sip. “Whoa,” he said. “It tastes a lot better than any medications I’ve ever taken for a stomachache.” He touched his stomach. “Say, I feel better already! Am I crazy? That stuff worked quick!” His face then turned red, and he rose to stand. “I’m really sorry about today.”
Monica smiled at him. “I told you, you’re forgiven. There is no need to worry about it. Everyone has their off days.”
“I was a complete jerk, though,” Brian said, avoiding all eye contact. “And, you were great…up until you pushed me over, that is… Wait… How did we wind up here? Last I remember, I was trying to… Oh, geez…” Monica was confident the man’s face could not possibly get any redder. “Did I try to kiss you?”
“You did,” Monica said. “And I shoved you, and you hit your head on the coffee table. I’m very sorry about that.”
“What is wrong with me?” he yelped. “I barely know you! Why would I act like that? I swear, Monica, this isn’t how I would usually behave! I don’t know what got into me. You must think—”
Monica reached out and touched his shoulder. “Brian, I told you, it’s okay! All is forgiven so long as you can forgive me taking your patrol car for a joyride with you flopping around in the back seat, unconscious.”
“Oh my gosh!” Brian yelped. “You drove me here while I was knocked out? How did you get me out of the apartment? Did you carry me here!”
“I thought about calling for an ambulance,” Monica said. “But I really didn’t think you’d want everyone to find out how it was you got knocked out.”
“No, I really would prefer not,” he said, shaking his head. “Thank you. I can’t believe you’d consider my feelings like that after the way I acted.”
Monica looked up at the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. “Well, it’s closing time. I think you and I have some work to do.”
“Pardon?” he asked.
Monica put her hands on her hips. “I mean, I’ve already helped you out with half of this investigation. I’d really like to try to see this thing all the way through!”
“Seriously?” he asked. “You want to spend your evening helping me out?”
“I do,” Monica said. “I get the sense that the version of Brian I saw today wasn’t the real you. I’d like to get to know the real Brian.”
Brian smiled. “You’re amazing.”
“I try,” Monica said, and she could hear Abigail hissing at her from under the table. “Hush up, silly cat. I’ll come back for you later, Abs.”
Monica and Brian left, and Monica locked the doors behind them. “I can’t believe you’re coming with me,” Brian said. “My plan was to go interview Judd after what we found at Darren’s apartment.”
“Good idea,” Monica said. “While you were knocked out, I looked into Judd. Turns out, he’s got a gig tonight in town.”
“Well, look at you. You’re a regular detective,” he said as he kindly opened the passenger’s side door for her.
“Well, I try,” she said as he closed the door. They headed down the road to a small café, and sure enough, there was a small crowd gathered to listen to the local band.
Brian parked, and the two of them headed inside, finding themselves a table. They listened to the music, and sure enough, Monica recognized some of the original songs. “Those songs were in Darren’s notebook too,” she whispered to Brian.
“Very interesting,” Brian said. “You think Darren was writing for them?”
“The lyrics are really good,” Monica said. “I’d believe it. But it’s also possible that they stole it from him.”
“Hey, folks, we’re going to be taking a short intermission! Be sure to tip your servers!” Judd’s voice called into the microphone as they put on some background music.
Brian immediately waved to Judd, and the young man smiled and came right over. “Hey, Brian,” Judd said, friendly as ever. “How are you doing?”
“Pretty good, Judd,” Brian said.
“I went by that burger place earlier right outside of town and saw your picture up on the wall,” Judd said, and Brian frowned. “Can’t believe you devoured that thing.”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Brian grumbled. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“We went by Darren’s apartment today, working on the investigation. My friend Monica here found a notebook full of songs Darren had written. And they looked quite familiar,” Brian said.
“Oh, well, yeah,” Judd said matter-of-factly. “Darren wrote about half of our originals.”
“Really?” Brian asked. “How is it I didn’t know that?”
“I mean, it’s not really something that we announce,” Judd said. “We bought the songs from him. He was a great writer. I hate what happened to the guy. He was a talented lyricist.”
“Not the best singer,” Monica said.
Judd laughed. “No, not really. But, the man could really write. I wish I could do that. Sure would make being in a band a lot easier. I’m going to have to find us a new songwriter now.”
“Well, thank you for clearing that up for us,” Brian said.
“Hey, I only got fifteen minutes,” Judd said. “So, I’m going to go put in a food order. I’m starving. If you need anything else, just let me know. We can grab coffee or something and talk, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Outside of buying his songs, we didn’t really hang out much.”
“Either way, I appreciate you being so willing to talk,” Brian said.
“No problem,” Judd said, trotting off toward the counter to order himself some dinner.
“What are you thinking?” Brian asked as Monica had on a doubtful look.
“I think we should go talk to Darren’s girlfriend again,” Monica said. “See what she knows about Darren’
s songwriting.”
“Good idea,” Brian said, nodding toward the back of the café.
Monica spun around to see Janice sitting in a corner. She looked tired, but she seemed to be enjoying the music just like every other person in Bankstown. “Well, that was easy,” Monica said. She looked at Brian. “Maybe you should stay over here.”
Brian frowned. “Oh, gosh, I was a creep to her too, wasn’t I?” He shook his head. “What was wrong with me today?”
“Don’t worry about it, Brian,” Monica said. “But I really do think it is probably best that I just talk to her.”
“That’s a good idea,” Brian said, embarrassed. “I’ll just stay here.”
Monica laughed slightly and rose from her seat, heading to the back corner of the café where Janice was seated. Janice smiled up at her. “Hey, Monica,” Janice said.
“Would you mind if I sat down for a moment?” Monica asked, and Janice nodded at the chair. Monica sat down across from Janice. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I asked some follow-up questions about Darren?”
“You helping out your cop friend still?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Monica said. “Officer Brian and I went by Darren’s apartment earlier today, and we found his guitar and songbook. We couldn’t help but notice that the songs were familiar.”
“Oh, yes, Judd plays his songs,” Janice said.
“Oh, so Darren sold his songs to Judd?” Monica asked to confirm.
“I’m not sure,” Janice said. “I mean, they used to be in a band together. Darren was in the band when it first started.”
“Really?” Monica asked, recalling the awful performance she had heard from him on his home video recording.
“Yeah,” Janice said with a laugh. “Judd and the band wound up kicking him out… Darren always thought he was a lot better than he actually was, if I’m being honest. He wanted to sing, but the band sort of voted him out.”
“That’s awful,” Monica said.
“No, they left off on good terms,” Janice assured her. “They all stayed good friends afterwards.”
“Good friends?” Monica questioned.
“Why, yes,” Janice said. “Why?”
“No reason, just making sure I understand,” Monica said.
“Janice! Your order is ready!” the server behind the counter called.
“Oh, that’s me,” Janice said, standing. “If you need anything, just let me know.” Janice went and got her to-go order, and soon she was leaving the café.
Monica went and sat back with Brian, a look of discontent about her face. “What did you learn?” Brian asked.
“I learned that Darren used to be in a band with Judd,” Monica said. “And the band kicked him out because of his lousy singing.”
“That’s interesting,” Brian said, glancing up at the stage where Judd and company were returning for their second set. “I wonder why Judd wouldn’t mention that?”
“Janice tells me that they were good friends, too,” Monica said.
“Judd made it sound like Darren was just his songwriter,” Brian said.
“Exactly,” Monica said, eyeing Judd, who was up on stage singing away. “I think there’s something fishy going on here.”
“I do too,” Brian said, turning around in his chair to get a good look at Judd and the rest of the band. “Looks like Judd isn’t being completely honest with us.”
“Yes, but why?” Monica asked. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”
“You know, you’ve got quite a knack for this sort of thing,” Brian said. “I don’t suppose you want to help me out some more tomorrow?”
Monica smiled. “I would love to. I’ll talk to my sister about watching the shop.”
“Sister? That’s right. You said she was in town,” Brian said. “I’d like to meet her.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d love to meet you as well,” Monica said. “Well, she sort of already has.”
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Who do you think helped me drag you into the shop from the patrol car?” Monica asked with a laugh.
“On second thought, I might want to avoid her,” Brian mumbled. “Not exactly the best first impression.”
Monica laughed again at Brian’s expense. She was having a bit too much fun messing with him.
10
Monica entered her shop after another day of running around with Brian. She was having quite a fun time playing detective with him, so much so that she had lost track of the time. She tiptoed into her shop, hoping to go unnoticed, but that was not the case. “There you are!” her sister’s voice boomed, and Mona came darting right up to her, hardly giving Monica time to process the oncoming berating. “Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s after lunch, and you know how busy my side of the shop gets at this time! I’m not Aunt Wilma! I can’t be in two places at once, Monica! And you’ve got me running my employee to death on the other side.”
“I’m sorry,” Monica said, slouching her shoulders. She could hear Abigail hiding out somewhere snickering at her. “I just lost track of time.”
Mona took a calming breath. “Look, I get it. You’ve always had a fascination with the mortal world. And now you’re here, and you met a cute guy blah, blah, blah. But this side of the shop is your responsibility, Mona! Aunt Wilma gave us the shop because she trusted us to take care of it, and I need you to hold up your end. I mean, I don’t mind watching the shop for you every once and a while, but I can’t keep this up.”
Monica sighed. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“Maybe you should consider hiring help?” Mona suggested, and Monica heard Abigail scrambling behind some shelves to get over to them as quickly as possible.
“Help!” Abigail whaled. “Help from who? A mortal?”
“Well, it’s not like just any witch can come hanging around over here,” Mona said. “There are rules, you know?”
“So, you’re suggesting she hire a mortal!” Abigail hissed. “No! Absolutely not! We don’t need a mortal snooping around here. What if the mortal you hire goes into the back room and winds up on your side of the shop?”
“Oh, nonsense, Abigail,” Mona said. “The back of the shop has a specific spell on it. A mortal will go back there and enter a broom closet.”
“What about me?” Abigail moaned. “Am I supposed to keep up the kitty-cat charade all day?”
“You are a cat,” Mona taunted.
“I’m a witch! I’m not some regular familiar, you…you…”
“Oh, be quiet,” Mona said with a huff. “Think about it, Monica, because I can’t keep watching the shop for you. You have Sundays off, you know? If you want to go exploring Bankstown, do that tomorrow. But today, you need to watch the shop! And I’m not like you, you know? I personally don’t like spending all of my time around mortals!” With that, Mona spun around on her heels and headed to the other side.
Monica flopped down on one of the lounge chairs in the back. “I guess Mona is right. I can’t keep putting all of this off on her,” she said.
“That’s right,” Abigail said. “This is your responsibility.”
“Aren’t familiars supposed to be loving and supportive to their witches?” Monica asked, not caring for Abigail’s constant attitude.
“I’m not a real familiar any more than you’re a real witch,” Abigail huffed.
“I’m getting real tired of the not a real witch jabs,” she said. “I’m a real witch. More so than you.”
Abigail hissed, then proceeded to go hide in the loft.
Abigail’s story was an interesting one. She had gotten herself into some trouble a long time ago with the sorcerer’s council for her treatment of mortals, and she had been sentenced to five centuries of life as a familiar. Usually familiars came to their witches by choice when the witch’s powers started to develop in their early childhood years. Monica, however, as an unnatural witch, had not attracted a familiar. Unnatural w
itches were often assigned familiars, and Monica had gotten stuck with Abigail the grump.
Monica decided she was going to have to remain at the shop for the rest of the day. Mona was right—tomorrow was Sunday, and she would have the whole day to explore and possibly spend some more time with Brian. So, she focused on the shop. She helped customers, made coffee, and sorted books for the rest of the day. She became so busy that she forgot she had plans that evening.
About half an hour before the shop closed, Isaac and Holly arrived to pick her up for their night at the movies. “Oh my goodness!” Monica exclaimed. “I almost forgot that we had agreed to go out tonight!”
Isaac and Holly had a laugh about Monica’s forgetfulness. “You still want to go?” Isaac asked.
“Of course I do!” Monica exclaimed, looking up at the cuckoo clock. “I need to get changed, though. I’m covered in coffee grinds. Had a mishap with the coffeemaker earlier.”
“You got a change of clothes?” Isaac asked.
“Um…yes,” Monica said. “Can you watch the shop for a minute?” she asked, and Holly and Isaac nodded in agreement as Monica slipped into the back room, remerging within her sister’s side of the shop that was now settling down. “Mona!” she called. “I need a favor!”
Mona stared at her. “I’m not watching your shop for you next week,” she said.
“No, I need a spell. I forgot I made plans with some new friends tonight, and I smell like coffee grinds.”
Mona grinned. “Ooh, I do love those types of spells. One second,” she said, scurrying over to her. “I always liked you in purple.” Mona grabbed her wand out from under the counter, pointed it at Monica, and called out, “Purpura vestit!”
Monica felt a tickle start in her stomach and spread out to her fingers and toes. When she looked down, she was dressed in a cute white tank top with a purple leather jacket and tight blue jeans with a bit of purple stitching around the pockets that matched the jacket perfectly. And her hair was done up and curled slightly, letting some fall down to her shoulders. “Ugh, I love you!” Monica said, giving her sister a kiss on the cheek.
