Calculated Magic

by SJD Peterson

  The bell over the door chimed. Richard didn’t bother to look up. He didn’t care. He hadn’t come here to socialize. If he had, he’d come in the mornings when such an establishment was hopping. He never did. He preferred the evenings during the week, when he shared the entire place with one, at the most two other patrons. He even found it too busy on weekend evenings for his taste, so he avoided those nights as well. He came for the coffee, bran muffin, and Wi-Fi. It seemed silly to pay for internet services when he could take a flight of stairs from his studio apartment, walk half a block, and get it free. He was far from a miser. He was frugal. It was ridiculous to pay for something when it wasn’t necessary.

  Richard wiped away the crumbs that had landed on his pad of paper, took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, then went back to studying his notes.

  “Need a warm-up?”

  Richard glanced up to find Andrea standing before him with a carafe. “Sure.” He downed the rest of his coffee and held out his mug.

  Andrea filled it, and then, to Richards’s complete and utter shock, she sat down in the chair opposite him. They were friendly, not friends. He was always polite but never engaged in small talk with her. He’d been coming to the bakery for the past year, and over that time, he’d developed an adequate relationship with the entire staff. They served him, then left him alone. He, in turn, wasn’t demanding and always tipped well. Therefore, the fact that Andrea was sitting at his table staring at him was quite unusual. He had no idea how to handle the situation or what to say.

  “I don’t mean to alarm you, but that guy at the counter hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he walked in.”

  Richard looked over his shoulder, and instantly his gaze fell on a pair of eyes in an unusual shade of gray. The man was definitely staring at him, more like looking into him. It was eerie. Richard just as quickly jerked his head back around to stare wide-eyed at Andrea. He now knew the source of the odd sensation he’d experienced earlier. How had he missed an imposing fellow staring at him?

  “Do you know him?” Andrea asked.

  “No. I’ve never seen him before.” He would have remembered. The unusual eye coloring wasn’t something he’d have forgotten, nor was the large scar across the man’s face. It was a distinguishable and a disconcerting feature.

  “Only one thing that could cause a look like that,” Andrea said. She glanced back and forth between Richard and the stranger, then nodded. “Oh yeah, you have yourself an admirer.”

  Richard pursed his lips. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Andrea, with a weird expression on her face, tapped her long painted fingernails against the side of the carafe. Richard didn’t know what it meant or why she wasn’t going away. He really wished she would. Her presence was making him almost as uncomfortable as the stranger behind him. Andrea kept looking at him with that damn expression he couldn’t read until the silence got so uncomfortable Richard’s skin began to crawl.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Sorry, was just waiting for it to sink in, but apparently I was wrong.”

  “What to sink in?” he demanded. He didn’t even try to hide his annoyance. Why couldn’t people just say what they meant?

  “Never mind, sorry I bothered you.” She stood up. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No, but you can tell me what in the world you’re talking about.”

  “It’s nothing. Again, sorry I bothered you,” Andrea apologized with an aggrieved expression and rushed away.

  Richard frowned. He hated upsetting anyone. Most of the time he didn’t even realize what he’d done to cause the reaction. People were strange. To say he was socially awkward was an understatement. It was another reason he avoided any kind of human companionship. He didn’t understand most people. The typical human let emotion rule their life. Richard used logic and sense. He had nothing in common with the majority of people.

  Wanting to forget the whole unnerving episode, Richard returned his attention to the paper before him, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the equation, it was useless. Between having upset Andrea and the possibility that the man behind him was still staring, it was impossible for him to concentrate. He should have declined more coffee; then he could make a hasty escape from the bakery. He considered just leaving it, but that was another pet peeve of his. Wastefulness. If he had a spine, he’d get up and ask for a to-go cup. He apparently didn’t have one, because he remained seated and out of sorts.

  He slid his pen and notebook into his briefcase, then picked up his mug, blowing on the steaming brew. He avoided looking at anyone, choosing to stare out the window and trying his best not to turn his head. It was maddening. He wanted to know if the stranger was still staring at him. More importantly, he wanted to know why the guy was doing it. Those eyes intrigued him. They were so unusual. The scar scared him.

  With a shaking hand, he brought the mug to his lips and took a large gulp. The hot liquid instantly set his tongue ablaze. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain. Christ, he was a mess, certainly not thinking clearly, and that was unacceptable. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, picked up his mug, and tried again. Still too hot. Duh! His gaze landed on the ice water. Dang, he really was flustered. He gave himself a shake, then used a spoon to drop a couple of ice cubes into his coffee. Within seconds they had melted, and he took a tentative sip. When he discovered there was no danger of burning himself further, he gulped down the rest of it. He fished out a few bills from his pocket and dropped them on the table. Eyes on the door—his escape—he grabbed his briefcase and went to his feet, but something solid connected with his back, pitching him forward and forcing him to use the chair to keep from falling.

  “Whoa, watch it there.”

  Richard froze. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was positive the deep husky voice behind him was from the stranger who’d been staring at him. Slowly he turned around. The only thing he saw was a broad chest. He swallowed hard, looked up, and, just as he expected, met gray eyes. “Umm… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there,” Richard spit and sputtered. His voice cracked. He sounded like a prepubescent kid.

  The stranger flashed a brilliant smile of pearly white, perfectly straight teeth. “Don’t apologize. You did me a favor. I was looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

  The stranger was talking. There was nothing wrong with Richard’s hearing, yet he didn’t quite understand a word he said. Richard blinked.

  “I’m Tikron. Tikron Amorith. And you are…?” He held out his hand.

  Richard stared at the offered hand as if it was a foreign object. Man, he was rattled, and it took a couple of heartbeats before he caught up. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. He shook Tikron’s hand. “Richard.” He tried to pull his hand free, but Tikron held tight.

  “Richard what?”

  Richard cocked his head and held Tikron’s gaze. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

  “There you go apologizing again,” Tikron said, flashing that dazzling grin. “No, we haven’t met until this very moment.”

  Richard tugged again with a little more force. This time Tikron released him. With their size difference and all those bulging muscles Tikron was sporting, he surely could have prevented Richard from freeing himself. Even so, Richard wasn’t a total coward; he’d have fought, but he hated making a scene. “I’m sure you’ll understand my reluctance to share my last name with a stranger. I apologize for bumping into you. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Aww, c’mon. You can trust me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I can base your trustworthiness solely on your word.” Richard turned and walked away.

  Tikron followed. “How about dinner? My friend and I were heading down to O’Kelly’s for a burger and a beer. My treat.”

  “I don’t eat red meat, nor do I drink beer, but thank you anyway. Now if you’ll please excuse me,” Richard said again. This time his irritation made his tone come out snappish. Nevertheless,
it didn’t seem to faze Tikron, because when Richard reached for the doorknob, Tikron blocked him.

  “Can I get your phone number?”

  “No,” Richard said without hesitation.

  “Man, you’re one tough cookie.”

  Richard held Tikron’s gaze unerringly but didn’t respond.

  “I didn’t mean to piss you off,” Tikron continued. “I saw you sitting there alone and thought maybe you’d like some company.”

  “I’m alone by choice.” Tikron started to open his mouth, but Richard held up a hand and silenced him. “I don’t want to have dinner with you, I’m not going to tell you my last name or give you my number, and I most certainly do not want your company. Now, goodbye, sir.” Richard glared at Tikron until he finally got a clue as to how serious Richard was and took a step back.

  Richard went out the door and let out a pent-up breath. He was aware of the fact that he’d been rude to Tikron, but sometimes those types of people only understood a firm no-nonsense response. He walked down the sidewalk, gait a little unsteady. It felt as if the world had tilted on its axis and left him off-balance. He hated feeling that way and hence had another reason to be away from this Tikron person. Why had the guy bothered him in the first place? Richard had kept his head down, kept to himself, yet Tikron and Andrea were, for some odd reason, compelled to converse with him.

  He was going to have to rethink his visits to the bakery if this behavior continued.

  Approaching the staircase to his apartment, Richard glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tikron hadn’t followed him. Satisfied he hadn’t, Richard hurried up the stairs and locked himself behind the solid metal door. Albert, his three-year-old basenji, raised his head to look at him, then snuggled back down into his bed near the sliding glass door. “Hello to you too,” Richard grumbled. He set his briefcase on the table, then flopped down on the couch. “Such a strange, strange night.”

  He shook his head, then picked up the remote. He scanned through the few channels he liked. He settled on a rerun of MythBusters. Only no matter how he tried to get into the program, gray eyes kept popping into his mind. Such an annoying thing. Okay, he could admit, at least to himself, Tikron was an attractive man. His unusual eyes were stunning, as was his well-defined, muscular body. Tikron obviously spent plenty of time in the gym working on his physique. Probably many more hours than he’d ever spent in a classroom. Richard was excessively familiar with Tikron’s type. Pretty on the outside but nothing interesting on the inside—like a brain. Now that was one sexy organ. Too bad he’d never meet anyone he was attracted to inside and out. The probability anyone existed who met Richard’s specifications was astronomical.

  It was a good thing he enjoyed his own company.

  Albert padded across the floor and hopped up onto the couch. He pawed at the blanket until Richard pulled it down from the back cushion. Albert dug at it until he had it just as he wanted it, spun around three times, then settled next to Richard, head on Richard’s thigh. Richard stroked the dog’s soft fur and scratched him behind the ears. “Right, I have you for companionship. I’m never alone.” Albert more than likely was twice as smart as that muscle-bulging Tikron guy. Albert also didn’t bore Richard with useless prattle. Cute, smart, and mute. The perfect combination in Richard’s book.

  Ohh Ohh Oh it’s magic.

  Chapter Three

  “WRRRRRRRRRRR boom!”

  “What the hell was that?”

  Ry rapidly twirled his finger, then slammed his fist into his palm. “That, my friend, was the sound of you being shot down and crashing. Dude, you just got rejected by a total geek.”

  Tikron glared at his friend, then jerked open the door and stepped out of the bakery. He glanced to the right, tempted to go after Richard. It was dark, he was alone, and for some weird reason, Tikron had the urge to be Richard’s protector. However, he didn’t think the title of stalker would be productive. He might never get Richard to speak to him, and he really, really wanted to talk to Richard again. The instant he’d laid eyes on the smaller man with the head full of curls, he’d been intrigued. After staring into those amazing hazel eyes, Tikron needed to know more about the guy. Richard wasn’t only handsome in a nerdy kind of way, there had been a depth in those expressive eyes. Tikron hadn’t seen anything like it in a very, very long time. Plus, there were those weird invisible threads that pulled Tikron to Richard. Tikron most definitely needed to find out more about the source of that strangeness. He huffed out a breath and turned to the left. No sense in scaring the poor man.

  Ry caught up with him. “What? No witty comeback?”

  “What do you want me to say? I did get shot down by the guy.”

  “And?” Ry insisted.

  “And nothing.” Tikron kept walking. He knew Ry wasn’t going to give up and would more than likely pester him about it all night. But Tikron needed a moment. He didn’t know what it was about Richard that had him messed up in the head. Until he figured it out, he didn’t know how to take or respond to Ry’s taunts. More proof of the effect Richard had on him, because he always had a witty comeback. Always. It was part of his charm.

  O’Kelly’s was packed, full of boisterous laughter and chatter, and the music added to it until it was just a stream of jumbled noise. The place was always bursting at the seams on Friday and Saturday, but rarely did they have crowds this large during the week. Tikron wasn’t sure what was going on—probably some kind of important sports game—but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. With the high level of noise and throngs of patrons, Ry would have a difficult time keeping focused on Tikron and his disastrous meeting with Richard. Ry, bless his heart, was a great friend, but he was also a bit of a scatterbrain. Flash something shiny in front of him and there he went, chasing it.

  They were about to give up on any chance of finding a table when a couple suddenly stood, dropped some bills, and left. Ry plopped down into the chair, holding his hands over his head in victory. “Timing is everything, baby.”

  The table was located at the back in a nook where the noise was at a tolerable level. Tikron took the seat across from Ry. “Shouldn’t that be ‘finding the right spell is everything’? You totally used your mojo on them. They walked out of here like frickin’ zombies.”

  Ry waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, well, if you can’t use your talents for the good of others, what’s the point?”

  “Good of others?”

  “Yup, me and you. I’m starving. Besides, I didn’t do anything but give them a gentle reminder that it was a work night and they had to be up early.”

  “And you know this how? Is mind reading one of your talents too?”

  Ry stared at him for a moment, then flashed a sly smile. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

  Tikron scanned the room, found a waitress, and waved to her. She acknowledged him with a nod. “Besides trying to order a beer and some food, what, pray tell, do you think I’m doing?”

  “You’re trying to distract me from ribbing you about what happened at the bakery, and like I said, it’s not going to work.”

  “It already has.” At just that moment the server appeared. Ry wasn’t the only one who could toss around a little mojo.

  “What can I get you fellas?”

  Ry rolled his eyes at Tikron and turned a charming smile on the waitress. “Hi. My friend and I will take a couple of drafts and some of those Irish nachos for now. And if you could put a rush on it….” He raked his eyes up and down the woman’s body, and his grin grew to brilliant. “I sure would appreciate it. I’m starving.”

  Of course she fell for it, agreeing to whatever Ry wanted and giggling as she hurried away. Ry was an extremely handsome man, and he knew how to work it to get what he wanted. He really was quite shameless at times.

  “You don’t feel the least bit guilty that that poor girl is back there rushing to serve you and thinking she actually has a chance with you, do you?”

  “No shame in my gam
e. Besides, how do you know I don’t plan on making all her dreams come true?” Ry countered.

  “Because I know you, and more importantly, I know your type.” Tikron held up his hand and clicked off each statement. “She’s not tall enough, blonde enough, nor does she have those big ol’ knockers you’re always going on and on about. You’re using that damn charm of yours to get what you want, and it’s cruel, man. What have I told you about karma?”

  “All right, fine. I’ll play nice and give her a big tip. Will that make you happy?”

  “It’s a start.”

  Something brushed against Tikron’s calf, and as it moved up, inching toward his crotch, he knew exactly what it was. Just before Ry reached his target, Tikron slapped his foot away. “Would you knock it off? Christ, you’re annoying tonight. What gives?”

  Before Ry could answer, the server returned with their beers and appetizer. Her hair was pulled up and her lips painted bright red. “Is there anything else I can get you?” With the way she was looking at Ry, it was clear she wasn’t talking about items on the menu. Poor thing.

  “Thank you. This looks awesome, and thank you for being so quick about it. Could we also get two breakfast burgers and fries with ranch on the side, please?” Without looking at the waitress, he took a big bite of his potato, chewing happily.

  Ry was concentrated on his food, so he didn’t see the girl’s face fall, but Tikron did. He supposed he should feel sorry for her, but really, it was better to have her unrealistic dreams dashed now than watch her swoon over Ry all night.

  “How was that? Friendly, complimentary, but without a hint of promise,” Ry said around a big bite of food once the server left.

  “Much better. And they say you can’t teach old dogs new tricks.”