War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Witch

by Gail Roughton

  "You are driving me insane!" I hissed.

  "Well, right back atcha', baby girl," he advised. "And could you stop pin-balling around the office like a steel ball in a pin-ball machine? You're making me tired!"

  "Good! Then maybe you'll be too tired to—to—whatever the hell it is you're doing that's making me feel like we're still in bed!"

  "I'm not doing anything on purpose, I can't freakin' help it! You're driving me just as crazy as I'm drivin' you, trust me! You sure you got to give two whole weeks?"

  "Of course I do! You don't just walk off a job and leave folks hangin'! Besides, you never know when you'll need a good reference!"

  "Baby girl, you're about to become an apprentice PI, you won't ever be in a law office again!"

  "Yeah, well, promises, promises. You never know, and besides, the firm's a good contact, and anyway, we still haven't talked about what we're doing about my apartment—"

  "Oh, fuck your apartment! Just break the damn lease, I don't care about losing the freakin' deposit!"

  The opening of the door signaled my sister's arrival, and her first words indicated that she was following the conversation very nicely.

  "I'll take your apartment, Ari, don't be silly. I don't have a lease, I'm month to month."

  "See?" The voice over the phone evidenced a keen sense of hearing.

  "Really? You don't like my apartment!"

  "I didn't like your apartment because of the Scott vibes. I'll have it fumigated and then I'll clean with lemon Lysol and then I'll burn incense."

  "Anastasia Anson!" I exclaimed over the laughter in my ear. "That is just mean!"

  "Oh, God, I love that girl already! Let me talk to her!"

  "This three-way conversation is getting complicated," I observed to the car roof and handed over the phone.

  "Hey, Magic Man!"

  "Hey, Antsypants! Can you possibly keep your sister on track and make sure she doesn't find any more things to worry over? Because two weeks is killin' me as it is, don't need any delays."

  "I can try, but she's a worry-wart. You know that."

  "Yeah, just like I know you're not. Are you?"

  "Nope. And neither are you."

  I looked at Stacy's face and listened to Chad's voice coming from the phone and I could feel them reading each other. I wondered again how in the hell I'd lived this long not hearing, not seeing, the magic that was everywhere for anyone who wanted it.

  "No. But she has to authenticate everything, you know that. She has trouble just accepting things the way you and I can, she's got to analyze everything first. It's the writer in her."

  "Yeah, I know. Gotta love her."

  "Don't we though? You do have just as much power as she does. Different, but just as strong. I wondered about that."

  "Not nearly as much as you do, though."

  "Yes, you do. Both of you."

  "As much as we'll ever have?"

  "Not even close."

  Stacy laughed and handed the phone back.

  "So, Magic Man. What's on your schedule?"

  "I'm going through Macon tomorrow. Need to check on a drug runner I been after for a while, pops in and out of Cobb County a lot. Not gonna find him this time, though. Damn bounty hunters and deputies been beating the bushes, got him spooked. He's not staying anywhere for long. That's how it works though, they muddy the waters all up and then call me. I'm for the impossible."

  "Damn bounty hunters? Like you're not one?"

  "Among other things. But what I am that the amateurs aren't is smart."

  "And so modest, too. Not to mention psychic," I pointed out.

  "That too, of course," he conceded. "So, early lunch while I'm going through? And late supper coming back? Don't know how late."

  I laughed. An opportunity to show him some local color. "Frick & Fries," I said. "Call me when you're getting off the interstate and I'll meet you over there. And then you can come back to the office—oh. You probably don't have time."

  "Not this time, precious. I'd love to but I need to get on up there."

  "That's okay. And then just come home. I'll have supper waiting, doesn't matter how late."

  "Don't want but one thing."

  "Well, that can be the main course. Actual food can come between that and dessert."

  "Oh. My. God. I love you."

  "I love you. Later, Magic Man."

  "Later."

  I hung up, realizing I'd had a conversation that could be rightly classed as "intimate" right in front of my little sister. She burst into laughter at my expression.

  "I'm all grown up now," she advised. "Even had sex myself a time or two. Did Scott already get all of his things out of your apartment?"

  "Oh, hell yeah. And the few things he left I collected and personally delivered to his office. Why?"

  "'Cause I would pay money for him to show up while Chad's there. Especially if he had an extra key made he didn't give back to you."

  My first reaction was sheer horror. My second was a mental picture of that face-off should such ever come to pass. And I had to admit it. I'd pay money to see that myself.

  "Antsypants, that is so far beyond just mean I wonder sometimes if you've crossed over to the dark side."

  "Be funny, though. Admit it."

  "Hysterical."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Around 4:00 o'clock it occurred to me that I hadn't told my parents that my wedding was still on. Sort of. I mean, the only changes were the groom. And the venue. And the size. And the time. All positive changes, at least in my mind, especially the groom. I'd never wanted a big wedding but between my mother and Scott's mother, things had rapidly escalated out of my control. The whole damn thing, while still nothing on the scale of what most people considered a "big" wedding, was much bigger and much more formal than I'd ever wanted. The only up-side to the whole thing was that with the actual projected ceremony still four months into the future at the time the whole possibility became dust in the wind, the invitations hadn't been ordered, let alone sent, and no deposits for anything had been made.

  Nothing was getting out of my control this time. When I thought about it though, all I really knew was we were getting married in two weeks' time because neither one of us could stand it for any longer than that. And that was absolutely all I cared about. A courthouse wedding worked for me. I hadn't even asked Chad about his family and any preferences he had. Well, I could ask him tomorrow night when he came back through from Cobb County. Of course, we'd be otherwise occupied but sometime during the night—because I knew full well he wasn't leaving till the next morning—we'd have a chance to talk about it. Maybe. No, definitely. I'd definitely take a few minutes to discuss it. If I even remembered it, of course. But I'd better remember it. I had to be able to tell my mother something.

  And on that thought, my cell phone signaled a call from, of all people, my mother, who didn't even give me time to say hello.

  "What on Earth do you think you're doing?!?"

  "Excuse me?" I ran for Anderson's office and closed the door. This was obviously not going to be a discussion for the hall.

  "You! What are you doing?!? I ran into your boss in the grocery store! And of course he assumed I knew all about it, I'm your mother, which you have obviously forgotten! And you're actually planning to marry some stranger you just met and you haven't even told your family!?"

  Shit. Anderson shopped in Kroger—the same one my mother used, of course—on his way home frequently, he enjoyed food. He was prone to sudden cravings and always satisfied his cravings as soon as possible.

  "Stacy knows all about it," I defended myself.

  "Oh, how nice to know how far Dad and I rank on your list of people who might be interested! You absolutely cannot go off half-cocked and get married! When is this supposed to happen, because I insist you have a long engagement! And if you don't come to your senses, then we have to have time to plan—"

  Oh, hell no, not going there, no way! And besides, if there was one thing C
had Garrett, and therefore myself, as the one who reaped the benefits wasn't, it was half-cocked, though I figured I might not oughta share that.

  "Mom, that's enough! I'm grown up now, remember?"

  "So I thought but obviously—"

  "Mom, you have absolutely no control over what I do."

  "Excuse me? What did you just say to me?"

  "I'm sorry you heard it in the grocery store, I didn't intend for that to happen. But I met him three months ago and—"

  "When you were still engaged to Scott?"

  "Don't go there either, Mom. I was never in love with Scott, I never even loved him. Hell, I never even liked him! Now I'm in love. Capital L, Capital O, Capital V, Capital E. His name's Chad Garrett. I'm getting married. In two weeks. No fancy wedding. End of discussion."

  "But—"

  "End of discussion. And you don't have to worry about any wedding plans because—" I broke off as an idea flew into my brain from out of the blue. "Because we're getting married in Vegas."

  It was the first time in my life I'd ever seen—well, heard—my mother completely speechless.

  The office phone rang as soon I hung up. Anderson.

  "Ariel, I think I may have—"

  "Don't worry about it, Anderson. It was my fault. I should have remembered just how small a town this really is in some ways and I just didn't."

  "So is your mother okay?"

  "No. But she will be."

  And this time when I hung up, I hit Magic Man's speed dial. Which was two and would have been one had that not been pre-programmed as voice mail.

  "Did you have any plans as to exactly where we're going to get married?"

  "Funny you should ask. It's going to take me a few days to confirm this, especially since I'm going to Cobb County tomorrow, but I got a parole skip I'm getting surer and surer is in Vegas. If it turns out she is—"

  "She?"

  "Crime's gender neutral, precious. So I was thinking, by Thursday I ought to be able to fly out and collect her. And that—"

  "And that Vegas would be an absolutely perfect place for a telepathic witch and warlock to get married."

  "You don't like it?"

  "I just told my mother I was getting married in Vegas. It just flew into my head."

  "But is Miss Definition of Conscientiousness going to take Thursday and Friday off in the midst of her two week notice?"

  "Oh, hell yeah. What are they going to do, fire me? Is Mr. Definition of Impatience—"

  "Hey, that's not fair. I waited my whole life for you. And then another two months for you to agree to meet me. Though not particularly patiently, you got me there."

  "Okay. Is Mr. Definition of Semi-Patience going to be willing for me to finish up here when we get back?"

  "Baby girl, I got a laptop and a Droid that go everywhere with me. Anything I can't handle from that in your—well, guess now it's Stacy's apartment—I'll run back and forth to do. Already decided that anyway, this is killing me."

  "Well, that oughta get the Scott vibes out of the place for Stacy."

  Okay. That was handled. Anything else I hadn't thought of that I should think of? I groaned. Of course there was. Anderson ran into my mother in the damn grocery store. Half of professional Macon was in and out of Frick's all the time. Including Scott.

  I told myself to toughen up. There were worse things than talking to Scott. Being burned at the stake, for example. Or hung. Or tortured. Which I probably had been at some time in the past. Christ, I didn't even remember his phone number, I'd just punched in his speed dial, now several weeks deleted. Which had been eight, incidentally, Stacy being two, Mom being three, Dad being four, Anderson being five, Ash being six, and Mark being seven. It hadn't even occurred to me to reassign the numbers to make Scott top dog. No help for it; I'd have to look up the office number and call him there.

  "And may I tell him who's calling?" asked the switchboard operator. I detested that and no receptionist at any Macon law firm would ever ask it. One of the judges, now retired, used to blast the ears off any lawyer whose office asked him that should he happen to call, his theory being that it didn't matter two hoots in hell who was calling, which it certainly shouldn't.

  For the first time in my life, I answered that question exactly the way I wanted to.

  "No, you may not. If he's not in, I'll take his voice mail, please."

  Dead silence. Then Scott's voice.

  "Scott, I felt I should let you know before you heard it through the grapevine. I'm—"

  "Engaged. And sporting a diamond big enough to choke a horse."

  "I'm sorry the grapevine moved faster than I did."

  "So it's true."

  "Yes. On both counts actually."

  Short, ugly laugh. "You actually pulled that 'money doesn't matter to me' line off real good, Ariel. Never knew you were such a good actress."

  "I'm not. And money doesn't matter to me. Nor the size of a diamond. He picked it, I didn't."

  "Are you kidding? You deserve the Oscar. How many months were you cheating on me?"

  Okay, he was entitled to be hurt. And pissed. And I knew he'd never really known the first thing about me. But he wasn't entitled to be vicious. What surprised me, however, was the realization that I'd always known he could be; that in fact, the viciousness lurked only slightly underneath the pleasant, dull surface.

  "I never cheated on you. I handed you back your ring the same day I realized for sure I wasn't going to marry you."

  "Was that the same day you realized you were going to marry him?"

  "Yes, it was."

  "Before or after you saw the damn ring?"

  "I'm not talking to you anymore, Scott. I never meant to hurt you. And I called because I didn't want to blindside you if you saw me—or us—around town before I had a chance to tell you. I don't have any control over what you think of me or what you think I did to you. That's your baggage, not mine. But I'll tell you this and whether you admit it's true or not, you know deep down it is. We really, truly, don't even like each other. We both just figured it was time to get married. And things would have been very bad, probably very quickly."

  I hung up before the waves of black rolled out over me from the receiver of the phone, more shaken than I cared to admit. He'd have slapped the shit out of me if he'd been in front of me. And it wouldn't have taken two weeks of marriage for him to have slapped the shit out of me over something.

  "God, Stacy!" I thought. "You did everything to make me see that but come right out and say it. And you'd have said it, first and last, before I actually married him, wouldn't you, even knowing I wouldn't have believed you!"

  I wasn't surprised at the response that resounded in my brain.

  "Damn straight! That's what sisters do!"

  Chapter Seventeen

  He called to alert me to his imminent arrival at about 11:15.

  "Too early for you?"

  "No, I'm starvin'. Didn't eat breakfast 'cause I knew you'd be here around now. Too early for you?"

  "Hell, no. Been up and on the computer since 5:00."

  He was telling me? I knew exactly when he'd woken up and I knew exactly the state he'd woken up in, a state that seemed to be a condition precedent to waking up for all males past puberty.

  "Good. Take the

  Second Street exit and—" "Baby girl, it's called a GPS. Is Stacy coming, I hope? Not still trying to give us privacy in the middle of a lunch crowd in the local diner hangout, is she?"

  I laughed. "No, she's coming. We'll go ahead and start walking over. Parking might be tight, that's our building garage on the corner of Second and Cherry. You could whip into the second floor if you need to. Love you."

  "Oddly enough, I have very little trouble finding parking spaces. Usually. Love you."

  I looked up as I shut my phone to see Anderson looking at me thoughtfully over my desktop credenza.

  "I never heard you say that to Scott, I don't think."

  "Doubt I ever did."

  I
collected my sister and we went out the back door of the building to cut through the alley over to the little diagonal formed by

  Cotton Avenue cutting into Cherry Street. "Note to self," observed Stacy. "It's a little less crowded in here at 11:30 than at 12:00 but not enough to shout about."

  "Hey! Booth in back being vacated! Go grab, I'll go ahead and order."

  Stacy and I liked the slaw dogs, I'd get Chad a chili dog and a slaw dog and fries for everybody, of course—that was when somebody behind me grabbed my left hand and pulled it up and back. Not just somebody. Scott. Of course.

  "Well, well, for once the scuttlebutt didn't exaggerate."

  "Hello to you too, Scott."

  He didn't release my hand and pulled back harder, ostensibly to convey to anybody paying attention that he was getting a better view. In actuality, he was squeezing hard enough to hurt.

  "Oh, yeah, that'd be enough to make anybody trade cars. Or men."

  "You don't want to do that, Scott," Stacy said from behind.

  "Ah, the cheerleader cheering from the back," Scott said. "And why don't I want to do that?"

  I caught the vibration in the air and glanced back over my shoulder at the door just as Magic Man walked through it, just as Stacy said, "I mean, you really don't want to do that."

  Chad moved so fast I didn't actually see the progression from door to counter and then his hand was squeezing Scott's wrist.

  "You should learn to listen to the ladies, Scott. You really don't want to do that."

  He'd caught a few pressure points, obviously. Scott's hand spasmed as he dropped mine. I turned and caught the glare in his eyes as he looked at me, which didn't sustain itself but a second as it moved to Chad. He turned and walked out the door.

  "Well," said Stacy, as she moved to put her arm around my waist. "That was some lunch time drama. You sure know how to make an entrance, Magic Man."

  "Natural talent," he said modestly, and hugged us both simultaneously. "You okay, baby girl?"

  "Tip-top," I affirmed, and turned back to the counter to collect our tray. Actually, I was more shaken than I wanted to let on, but not because of Scott. Because I had more than a sneaking suspicion that if Scott hadn't let go, Chad wouldn't have just kicked some ass. He might have deleted some ass. Further, it was a bit unsettling to realize that my only concern with that was that it would have been way too inconvenient to start out married life with such a legal tangle over our heads, which was a glimpse into a part of my personality I hadn't known was there. I supposed it would be a handy trait to carry into my new profession.