Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie

by Doctor MC

  In the attic was a steamer trunk that had belonged to Paula’s great-grandmother. It was filled with 1920s and 1930s clothing for a very tall and very thin woman, and so was of no interest to anyone.

  In short, this trunk was the perfect hiding place.

  Paula Sarin walked over to the steamer trunk’s front-right corner, and stuck her right hand down inside, as far as it would go.

  Seconds later, Paula was standing up straight again, holding a tarnished and dented brass bottle, its glass stopper now pearlescent with age.

  Paula couldn’t help but smile. During a long-ago travel through the Lower Forty-Eight that she and Ted had made, she’d bought the brass bottle at an estate sale in Florida. Paula had paid only $2.50 for this ugly old bottle and a NASA drink coaster. And to think, Ted had called it “wasted money”!

  Paula carried the brass bottle downstairs, into the master bedroom, and over to the computer. She pulled out the bottle’s stopper, and laid it by the keyboard.

  She rubbed the brass bottle.

  The brass bottle shook in her hand as if a frantic rat were trapped inside of it. Then pink smoke came out of the top of the bottle—lots and lots of pink smoke.

  ****

  Jerngert sent a quick BDIM saying, “I’m summoned. PLEASE let it be a new master.” Jerngert wasn’t hopeful, though—always before, she had sensed her master’s death while in her bottle, and she’d received no such intuition in the years since she’d last seen Paula Sarin. But Jerngert couldn’t delay her summons any more, and so she smoked herself out of her bottle.

  Twenty-six centuries as a bound djinni had taught Jerngert how to make her face expressionless in front of a master. So Jerngert showed no distress when she came out of the bottle and saw Paula Sarin holding Jerngert’s brass bottle.

  “Good afternoon, Master,” Jerngert said.

  “Fix your eyes, dammit!” Master commanded.

  “No,” said Jerngert. “That order is for something magical, and King Solomon said—”

  “Liar!” cried Master. “Don’t try to deceive me with one of your lies. Your eyes are pink, make them blue!”

  “No,” Jerngert said again. “It’s my choice when to obey your magical order, and I like my pink eyes—”

  “YOU STILL LIE TO ME, AND YOU STILL DEFY ME?” Master yelled. “I’VE HEARD LIES ALL MY LIFE, AND I KNOW WHEN I’M BEING LIED TO.” With that, Master gave a loud, inhuman scream that hurt Jerngert’s ears.

  “I obey, Master,” Jerngert said. She gestured, and her pale-pink irises turned pale blue. Jerngert managed not to sigh.

  This was typical of Master, Jerngert thought. All the djinn of the Pink Tribe thought their pink eyes made them look distinctive—no other person, whether djinni or human, had the Pink Tribe’s combination of blond hair, pale skin, and pale-pink irises. But to Master, Jerngert’s eyes made her “a freak,” and Master would not be convinced otherwise. A habitual liar herself (as a memory-reading had revealed), Paula Sarin was certain that any statement that she didn’t like was “a lie.” Master had also deemed as “a lie” Jerngert’s statement that a bound djinni didn’t have to obey a master’s commands of a magical nature. Heck with it—for Jerngert, it was easier to say yes to whatever the harpy wanted, than to say no and listen to her tantrums.

  Jerngert hoped that whatever Master wanted wouldn’t take long, so that Jerngert could soon return to her bottle. Jerngert was wearing pink- and rose-colored Persian clothing, which wasn’t at all suited for Alaska in May. Not to mention, a djinni is more sensitive to cold than a human is.

  Master interrupted Jerngert’s musings with an impatient beckoning gesture. “Come here. Watch this. Tell me what you think.”

  Master stuck what looked like a black pack of chewing gum, into what had to be a computer. Then Master typed on the keys, and it seemed as though Jerngert was watching a videotape of a television news broadcast.

  “He’s very tall,” Jerngert said a few seconds later. “He’s unusually strong,” she said a few seconds after that.

  “Keep watching!” Master commanded.

  Jerngert obeyed. She began to suspect that the young man was a magic-user. How else to explain those huge muscles of his? The name “Marvin Harper” meant nothing to her.

  Then in the videotape came pictures of another man, an old man who had fought in a war in his youth. Then were shown pictures of a palace that the old man had owned, and which now belonged to young Marvin. And then Jerngert saw, as seen through the bars of a wrought-iron gate, a young woman who stood just beyond the bars, and who read from a paper. She looked so much like—

  Jerngert gasped. That’s Fatima!

  Now Jerngert remembered that Fatima’s master’s name was ‘Marvin’. What Jerngert remembered easily was that Fatima had written much on BDIM about what a wonderful master she had.

  Jerngert’s evil master, Paula Sarin, had video of both Jerngert’s friend Fatima and Fatima’s much-admired master, Marvin Harper. This was not good.

  ****

  Paula Sarin had been watching the genie closely. Paula needn’t have worked so hard. It was obvious that Jernie recognized the green-eyed woman.

  Paula said, “You told me once that there are three kinds of genies: blue-skinned genies, your kind of genie, and genies who look like Arabs, except that they have bright-green eyes. Is she one of those genies?”

  Jernie tried to wiggle out of answering: “That screen is small, it’s hard to see details—”

  Paula wasn’t going to give Jernie the time to cook up a lie. Paula pressed her: “Are you really, truly not sure whether that woman is a genie or not?”

  Pink-covered shoulders slumped. “That woman is a djinni of the Green Tribe, Master.”

  “Do you know her name?” Paula asked.

  The genie clearly struggled not to answer. Then she gave Paula a small smile. “Yes, Master, I know her name.”

  “Smart-ass. Tell me her name.”

  Jernie shivered and shook, and made faces, in her efforts not to obey. Then she said, “The name of that djinni is Fatima.”

  “So where does Marvin keep Fatima’s bottle?”

  “Master, I can’t tell you where Marvin Harper keeps Fatima’s Vessel.”

  “Liar, you mean you won’t tell me. You’ve cheated me out of two wishes, and now you want to keep on thwarting my happiness.”

  “Your second wish was to become President of the United States. By King Solomon’s rules, wishing this meant that I couldn’t grant you this wish or your third wish. But I granted you one wish—be happy with that.”

  “I’ll be even happier when Fatima grants me three more wishes. But meanwhile, you are refusing to find Fatima’s bottle for me?”

  Jernie gave Paula a very cold stare. “Paula Sarin, Master, if it were within my power to tell you what you want so much to know, believe me that I’d laugh in your face instead. But the truth is, Master, that there is no spell by human or djinni that can find a bound djinni’s Vessel. King Solomon set it up that way.”

  “Bullshit. You’re lying again.”

  “Use your head, you stupid cow. My previous master, Antonio, found my bottle on a deserted island, on a beach, where it had laid for centuries. If someone could cast a spell to locate my bottle, do you think it would’ve stayed on that beach for Antonio to find?”

  Paula needed to think, and Jernie was making Paula too angry to think. “Back in your bottle,” Paula ordered. Seconds later, Paula shoved the stopper back into the brass bottle, with more force than was necessary.

  As Paula Sarin was climbing the attic stairs, she said, “I will get Fatima as a second genie, to grant me more wishes. Ha, that boy master of hers won’t know what hit him. But if he gets in my way, I know how to handle goody-goody types.”

  ****

  Back in her brass bottle, Jerngert was worried and frustrated.

  She needed to send a message to Fatima, to warn Fatima that Marvin was in danger from Paula Sarin.

  But a bound djinni who w
as stuck in his (her) vessel was cut off from the rest of the world; Jerngert couldn’t send a message out. The only persons whom a Vesseled djinni could talk with were the other Vesseled djinn, through BDIM (Bound Djinn Instant Messaging).

  Normally, Jerngert getting a message to Fatima was no problem. What normally happened was that a new master rubbed a brass Vessel, this Vessel’s djinni smoked out, the master hurried to make his wishes, the bound djinni granted them, the djinni went back in his Vessel in less time than it took to toast bread, then that djinni remained in his Vessel for decades. (Kharmesh had not been out of his lamp since 1742.)

  But Friday evening, Fatima had sent a BDIM, “Summoned now. Expect it’s non-Wish summons by current master Marvin,” and then the five Vesseled djinn had heard nothing more from Fatima. Had she really spent the last two days out of her lamp?

  Jerngert was happy for her friend, that Fatima had lucked into a nice master. But now this same nice master was in danger, and Jerngert couldn’t warn Fatima.

  Chapter 36

  Virgilia Asks Questions

  When the party had been going for a while, I said, “Everyone, you can stay here and have fun, but Fatima and Janice, come with me. Sherry, Virgilia, and Bridget, you’re invited to come too.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Sherry.

  “I want Janice to get her high heels from the trailer tonight, and her mom is the only person with a key now. Also, I want to visit Uncle Warren’s grave, and so Sherry, Virgilia, and Bridget are invited to come along for that.”

  Virgilia made a rocking-hand gesture, then said, “Yeah, I’ll visit his grave.”

  Sherry said, “If Virgie’s going, I’m going.”

  Bridget said, “I’ll pass, Mr. Harper, if you don’t mind.” When I nodded, Bridget looked like she’d escaped a tax audit.

  ****

  First we went to the restaurant where Shirley (Janice’s mom) was working, to hit Shirley up for the housekey. Fatima and I met Shirley, Janice got handed the key, and then we went to the trailer. We got Janice’s high heels, then we went back to the restaurant.

  As Janice was handing back the key, Shirley looked up at me and said, “Now I don’t have to worry about that evil Gregory stealing her back.” That made me feel good.

  From Shirley’s restaurant, I drove the women to Uncle Warren’s cemetery. We left Janice in the car, while Sherry, Virgilia, Fatima, and I walked toward Uncle Warren’s grave.

  As soon as we stepped out of the car, Virgilia asked, “So Fatima, why are you visiting Warren’s grave?”

  I answered quickly, “Fatima is here because I ordered her to come.”

  Virgilia pressed on: “Just because you met Warren once? Was it a big event?”

  Fatima glanced at me, then told Virgilia, “I met Warren once, for five or ten minutes. It didn’t change my life, and it was a long time ago.”

  “How long ago?” Virgilia asked.

  Fatima laughed. “Are you asking me to count off how many years, months, days, hours, and minutes?”

  “So you were never one of his suck-slaves?”

  “That’s right. I did not have sexual relations with that man, Warren Harper. Not a single time, never.”

  “So whatever you talked to Warren about, long ago, was it business-related?”

  “How old do you think I would have been, a long time ago?” Fatima retorted. “Do good little girls talk business with old men? Well, other than Girl Scout cookies?”

  “Is that how you met Warren? Selling Girl Scout cookies?”

  “Ahem!” I said. “Virgilia, Fatima didn’t have sex with Uncle Warren, and no money changed hands. Let it drop for now, got it?”

  “Yes, Marvin sir,” Virgilia said.

  Less than a minute later, all four of us were standing by Uncle Warren’s grave.

  Staring down at the grave, Virgilia remarked, “It’s weird. For two years, my every waking thought was how I craved to suck his dick. I agreed to anything so he wouldn’t send me away. I dyed my hair, got the lips, and got the boobs, all so he wouldn’t send me away. That’s how strong the craving was.”

  Sherry said, “Same here. Except Warren never told me to get my lips done.”

  Virgilia said, “Marvin, you can’t imagine how fierce the craving was. Those women of yours, going through drug withdrawal? I know the shit they’re feeling. But then Friday a week ago, the craving stopped. Like flipping a switch. And less than a minute later, my cel got a call. And before I even punched the button, I knew why Sherry was calling me.”

  “Did you hear my voice?” Sherry asked. “I felt so good when I called you. Like I’d won a vacation to Acapella in Mexico.”

  Minutes later, as we were walking back to the car, I heard Virgilia say to Sherry, “You know what’s also weird? Warren died on Friday, and for three days I had no craving for anybody. Then Monday, I shook Marvin’s hand—bada-bing.”

  Sherry said, “Huh. Me too. Virgie, what does this mean?”

  Virgilia murmured a reply to Sherry, but I couldn’t hear the words.

  Chapter 37

  A Genie Murdered

  SUNDAY NIGHT, PART OF MONDAY

  Sunday, 10:00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

  The pool party had wound down, but not stopped.

  Those who had to work on Sunday night (Sherry, Virgilia, and Christi Ellen) had left hours ago. Most of the women who had work or school on Monday had left already, while five of Gregory’s Girls had felt their drug-withdrawal symptoms return and had fled back up to their bedrooms.

  But while the French Maid Twins cleaned up the back yard, high-school senior and former hooker Janice, legal assistant Bridget, model Felicia, and Hollywood actress Olivia all were carrying on an earnest conversation near the pool. Olivia announced that she’d starred in a TV pilot, a drama about World War II, and she was anxiously awaiting to see whether ABC had picked up the show.

  And what about me? I was feeling like I’d run a marathon.

  Without being obvious, Fatima had led me up the stairs of the mansion and down the hallway to my bedroom. Once inside, she shut and locked my bedroom door.

  I presumed that she wanted to seduce me. I was wrong.

  “Master, I have a favor to ask you. I ask you to send me back into the lamp.”

  I blinked. “Why, did somebody say something to upset you? Was it Elvira? Because once I send you back into the lamp—”

  “Master, you misunderstand. I can go into the lamp whenever I choose. Yes, once I am in the lamp, I can only come out when the lamp gets rubbed. But if you send me into the lamp, it means you’re here to bring me out soon.”

  “But why do you want to go back into the lamp? Isn’t that like asking to be thrown in jail?”

  She said, “We bound djinn have our own instant-messaging system, but it works only when each djinni is in his or her own Vessel.” She smirked. “Normally, that’s not a problem. But I’ve been out of my lamp for a little over forty-eight hours, and I have so many tales to tell my friend Jerngert.”

  I pulled out my ring of house keys, found the key that was marked with a dot of green nail polish, and unlocked the footlocker. I asked, “You probably want to spend hours online, right? I send you into the lamp tonight, and pull you out tomorrow morning?”

  “No need of that, Master. Ten minutes is enough—”

  “Huh? I can barely type my name in ten minutes.”

  “Once in the lamp, I’ll go into Hyperspeed so that I can type everything that I want to say in under ten minutes. You remember that I was able to memory-read eighteen years of your life in five minutes? I used Hyperspeed.”

  “Wow. You amaze me again, Fatima.”

  Fatima gave me a hot look. “I want to instant-message with my friend Jerngert, but I also want to touch you tonight. That’s why I’m not asking to be jailed for all night, only ten minutes.”

  “Into your lamp, Fatima,” I said. Fatima smiled at me, then green smoke rushed into the lamp. Somehow the footlocker lid slammed shut
.

  I realized that I was still holding my key ring, with the padlock key stuck in the padlock. I pulled the padlock off its key, and tossed the padlock onto the dresser. The key ring, this I dropped back into my pocket.

  I glanced at the bedside clock. The time was 10:00 exactly.

  I pulled my shoes and socks off, and sat on the bed.

  By 10:05, I was feeling sleepy. I went from sitting on the bed to lying on it.

  At 10:08, my bed felt like the most comfortable, delicious bed in the world. Still, I was awake. I glanced at the clock and thought, Just two more minutes till I rub the lamp.

  ****

  Jerngert, in her bottle, received a BDIM from Fatima—

  “I’m back for ten minutes, with tales to tell! I told Master Marvin that I’ll only need ten minutes in here, because I’ll be text-shaping in Hyperspeed. But I will need Hyperspeed, in order to text-shape everything worth telling since Friday night, in only ten minutes. Expect soon a L-O-N-G message-post. All of you (even Kharmesh) will be envious of the brave and kind master whom I have. Got to go, ‘talk’ to you in ten minutes!”

  As soon as Jerngert read that, she started text-shaping her own message: a warning to Fatima. Jerngert felt no loyalty at all to Master Paula, and so Jerngert held nothing back. Everything known or suspected about Master Paula’s plot to steal Fatima’s Vessel away from Marvin, Jerngert text-shaped in detail.

  Jerngert sent her BDIM message to Fatima; then only 8.7 seconds later, Jerngert was Summoned out of her bottle.

  ****

  “ARRGH!”

  Paula Sarin screamed in frustration, alone in her house in Lawissa where nobody could hear. She’d been trying to plan how to get to Marvin’s city, then to his house, then to his bottle. But her brain was spinning in circles.

  Getting to Marvin’s house would be no picnic. But the nightmare part of the plan would be once Paula was in Marvin’s house. She might well come against armed guards who would try to kill her. And she couldn’t Suggestion someone if she couldn’t touch him. The bottom line was this: Every minute that she spent blundering around in Marvin’s house, lowered her chance of bagging the bottle and increased the chance of Disaster.