Calculated Magic

by SJD Peterson

  On the last step, Richard squared his shoulders, took one last deep breath, and opened the door. The breath rushed out of him and his heart skipped a beat. Dammit!

  “I told you I returned it,” Tikron announced with a wide, satisfied grin on his all-too-handsome face.

  Richard’s head began to spin, or was it the world that had suddenly started to spin? As reality hit, his knees buckled. Tikron grabbed him and steadied him before his legs gave out. Richard clung to Tikron’s shirt. Something screwy was going on. He could easily explain the vanishing collar. It could have been a reproduction. Tikron had spent plenty of time with Albert to get a good look at the collar. Just because Albert was wearing his collar didn’t mean it was the same one Tikron had handed him. Ending up in his apartment was a different story. If he hadn’t been daydreaming, if he hadn’t been distracted, how in the hell had it happened? Early dementia? A brain aneurism? As soon as he got to the office, he was making an appointment with his primary care physician.

  Richard took in a deep breath and inhaled a rich, spicy scent. Crap. He was still clinging to Tikron. He jerked and his back slammed into the door. “Sorry.”

  Tikron ran his fingers through his hair, then winked. “Don’t be. I was rather enjoying the moment. You smell really, really good.”

  The way Tikron raked his gaze up and down Richard’s body was almost as disconcerting as the unexplained event. Almost. “I…. Ummm…. Yeah. I need to get to work.” He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and went to adjust his messenger bag, only to find it wasn’t there. He checked the other side, then remembered he’d dropped it on the floor of his apartment. “Dammit, I forgot my bag.”

  “This?”

  Richard stood there gawking at the bag in Tikron’s hand. He could have sworn he’d dropped it. Then again, his head was throbbing and he really wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Hell, it was still quite possible he would wake up soon and have a good laugh over his morning smoothie. At least he really hoped that would be the case, because he had no explanation for the freaky morning if not.

  Richard reached out to take the bag, but Tikron wouldn’t release it. “Have dinner with me?”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Shall we say seven?”

  “Okay, sure.” I swear I dropped that bag. He wiggled his toe and winced. He had the injury to prove it. So how had Tikron gotten it?

  “Bye, Richard. See you at seven.”

  Richard waved over his shoulder without looking back. There was no possible way Tikron had run up, broken into Richard’s apartment, retrieved the bag, and returned within the time allotted. Richard walked down the sidewalk, his head in a fog as he tried to find some logical explanation for the strange events of the morning. If it wasn’t dementia or an aneurism, then surely there was some other physical or psychological reason behind his delusions.

  He needed a doctor. He pulled his keys from his pocket, let himself into his office, and shut the door behind him. He found himself scanning the area, looking for Tikron. As ridiculous as it was—the door had been locked—he wouldn’t put anything past Tikron. He’d be a fool to underestimate Tikron. He might not have an explanation yet for the abnormal things that happened when Tikron was around, but with some quiet time to think, he was sure he would. But first, aspirin.

  He removed his coat, hung it on the hook near the door, then took a seat at his desk. He rummaged through the top drawer. The aspirin bottle was empty, but he found a battered foil packet of ibuprofen. He swallowed them down dry, then regretted his decision as they stuck in his throat. He tried several times to get them unstuck, but it was no use. It took several glasses of water, then a bite of an old stale granola bar he found at the back of a drawer before the irritation in his throat was finally rectified.

  After flipping on his computer, he went through his schedule, finding his day was pretty slow. Perfect. He picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Psaki.

  “Dr. Psaki’s office, this is Jada. How may I help you?” the receptionist asked after the second ring.

  “Hi, Jada. This is Richard Beaumont. I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Psaki right away.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Beaumont, the doctor is out of the office until this afternoon. If you’re experiencing a medical emergency, please go to the nearest emergency room. May I call an ambulance for you?”

  “No, not unless they are wearing little white suits.”

  “Excuse me?” Jada asked, sounding confused.

  Richard ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that kind of emergency. It’s kind of personal, and I’d like to discuss it with the doctor. Is there any chance he could see me today?”

  “If you’d like to come at one, we can try to fit you in. Although you may have a considerable wait.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “See you at one,” she said pleasantly.

  He returned the phone to the cradle, then leaned back in his chair. He chewed on the end of his pen. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned the men in the little white suits. He was sure he was losing his mind. It was as if he whole world had been turned upside down. Nothing made sense anymore.

  “Well, better get something done before they come and take me away.” He leaned up and dropped the pen on the desk. Ink oozed from the end. He wiped at his blue-smudged lip with his fingertips. “Great, this day just keeps getting better and better.” If Dr. Psaki didn’t have him thrown into a padded cell, he’d go home, lock his door, pull out the brandy he’d received as a gift three years ago, and with any luck, he’d be too stinking drunk to care. More than likely puking and passing out, since he had zero tolerance for alcohol. Straitjacket or alcohol-induced haze—either way, he was putting this day behind him.

  All is fair in love and magic

  Chapter Twelve

  STANDING in front of the mirror, Tikron ran a brush through his damp hair as he watched the water droplets run down his lightly furred chest and stomach to the blue towel secured around his waist. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if it were Richard’s warm fingers moving down his body rather than cool water. Things were going well. Richard was beginning to question his logical world. Such curiosity opened the door for magic to seep in. If things kept going on the same path, Tikron might just get the chance to experience Richard’s touch.

  “You’re standing in front of the mirror primping with a shit-eating grin on your face. I take it things didn’t go well.”

  Tikron gave Ry a sideways glance. “Haha.”

  Ry hopped up and sat on the counter. “Details. My plan worked like a charm, right?”

  “Actually, I had to amend it a bit. The dog collar was a nice touch, but I could tell by his reaction he was working out a logical reason for it.”

  “So you blinked his dog into your arms like I told you?”

  “I went one better.”

  Ry arched his brows. “Better than perfection. Please.”

  “Your cockiness is showing. You better tuck that shit back.”

  Ry spread his thighs a bit wider, then grabbed his crotch. “You can’t tuck this beast back.”

  Tikron rolled his eyes. “I was talking about your attitude, not your junk.”

  “I hate it when you call it junk. There is nothing junky about it.” Ry framed the bulge in his slacks with his hands. “This is like a fine piece of art.”

  “Well, you know what they say. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. If you’re lucky, bookstore boy will think you’re a gem. Speaking of which, you’re not the only one who has a date tonight.”

  Ry looked skeptical. “Really? Richard finally agreed to go out with you?”

  “Yup,” Tikron said with pride. His grin faltered slightly when he remembered the lost expression on Richard’s face. “I may have taken advantage of a weak moment.”

  “And the problem with that is?”

  Tikron glared at his friend. “The problem is I don’t want to take advantage of him, nor do I want to caus
e him any harm, physical or mental.”

  Ry shook his head. “I don’t get you sometimes. The last thing you should be worrying about is Richard’s mental state. We have more important things to focus on. You know, like keeping you from being dead.”

  “Trust me, I’m well aware of the importance of my relationship with Richard, but I refuse to do it by hurting him.” Tikron dropped the brush and picked up the cologne bottle. He poured a small amount into his palm, rubbed his hands together, then patted his face, neck, and chest. “Doesn’t matter. I plan on making it up to him tonight. No magic. Just pure Amorith charm.”

  “You think that’s a good idea? The not using magic thing?”

  Tikron put his hands on his hips and turned toward Ry. “What? You don’t think I can win a man over with my charmful ways?”

  Ry hopped down from the counter and stood in front of Tikron. He chewed on his bottom lip as he studied Tikron. Ry kept leaning his head from side to side as if he were trying to get a different perspective on a specimen in front of him. Tikron tapped his foot. “It was a yes or no question, you dork.”

  “Hey, I was putting some thought into my answer. Trying to be honest here.”

  By the time Tikron registered the sly grin beginning to curl Ry’s bottom lip, it was too late. Ry snatched the towel from around Tikron’s waist. In one deft movement, he jumped back, spun the towel, and let it fly. Tikron turned at the last second, and the tip of the damp towel connected with Tikron’s bare ass with a resounding snap.

  “You ass!” Tikron roared and rushed after a fleeing Ry. Just as they made it to the living room, Tikron spread his arms and lunged at Ry. Instead of putting Ry in a bear hug, he hugged air and slammed into the back of the couch. Oh no you don’t, you little shit.

  A blink of his eyes and Tikron was at Ry’s place. He scanned the area. Not finding him in the living room or kitchen, Tikron rushed to the bedroom. He threw the doors open to find Ry standing next to his closet with a gray suit coat in his hand.

  “About damn time.” He held up the jacket. “What about this?”

  Tikron blinked at him. “For what?”

  “Your date.” Ry snapped his fingers in front of Tikron’s face. “You want to keep up here. If you’re insistent on using your charms instead of magic tonight, then you’re going to need a bit of help. I think this one works perfectly with your eye color. But I have black if you want to go for that mysterious man vibe.”

  “The gray is fine.” Tikron rubbed his abused asscheek. “And after you dress me, you can kiss my boo-boo.”

  “I’m always kissing your ass,” Ry countered. He then held up his free hand and pointed a finger at Tikron. “And do not, I repeat, do not call it a boo-boo around Richard. Your vocabulary is less than manly.”

  “Yes, but I’m all man,” Tikron assured him. He grabbed his crotch and squeezed it for emphasis.

  “But from what you’ve told me, your future geek lover isn’t a big fan of big dumb muscle heads, so you may want to keep that aspect of your personality under wraps tonight. Talk about something….” Ry waved his hand back and forth. “I don’t know, not dumb.”

  “Wow, and you call my vocabulary abilities into question.”

  “Says the man standing naked in my bedroom rubbing his ass.” Ry tossed the jacket and Tikron caught it easily. “Now get out of here. I have a date to get ready for and so do you.”

  “Call me later and let me know how your date went.”

  Ry shook his head. “If I can call you later, then apparently it didn’t go very well. I’ll pop over tomorrow morning after I crawl out of bed.”

  Tikron wrinkled his nose. “Take a shower first.” Tikron started to morph back to his place when he hesitated. He met Ry’s dark gaze. “Do not wake me up too early unless you have coffee in your hand. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “And the shower thing,” Tikron emphasized.

  “Would you get the hell out of here? I’ll shower. At least I’ll have a reason to,” he said with a wide grin.

  “You’re such a slut,” Tikron teased. Before Ry could respond, Tikron was back at his place with Ry’s suit coat. He walked to his bedroom laughing. He wasn’t the only one who was going to have a smarting ass. Knowing Ry always went commando when he went out on a date, Tikron waved his hand and planted prickly burs on the inside of every one of Ry’s pants.

  “Karma, baby,” he chuckled.

  YOU’RE in perfect health.

  As Richard sat at his dining room table, Dr. Psaki’s words echoed in his head as he considered the glass and brandy. He’d been thinking about having a drink since he’d left the doctor’s office, yet all he’d accomplished was to get it out and stare at it. He propped his elbow on the table and laid his cheek against his palm. Perhaps after dinner, once he had something in his stomach, he’d actually open the bottle, because Lord knew he hadn’t gotten any answers to the oddities he’d been experiencing. No brain aneurysm. The clean bill of health had been as effective for his throbbing head as the ibuprofen he’d taken earlier—worthless. Might as well give alcohol a chance.

  Albert made a low growling warning sound. Richard turned his head toward the dog just as there was a knock on the door. “Who in the world could that be?” Albert hopped down from the couch and rushed to the door. He scratched at it, tail wagging wildly.

  Richard glanced at the clock and was shocked to see how late it was. He should have been at the bakery twenty minutes ago. It was par for the course considering how his day had gone. Weird morning, unproductive workday, no dinner, no coffee and muffin, and now someone was interrupting his evening.

  Distracted by his thoughts, Richard went to the door and, without checking the peephole or asking who it was, opened the door. Big mistake.

  “Hi,” Tikron said. A large smile on his face and flowers in his hand, he shoved the bouquet at Richard. “Here, these are for you.”

  Richard didn’t have any choice but to take them. It was a large collection of wildflowers, carnations, and daisies. It was a nice gesture; no one had ever given him flowers. He didn’t dare tell Tikron he was allergic to carnations. He held his breath and squeaked out, “Thanks. I’ll put these in some water.”

  Richard hurried to the kitchen sink, drew up a glass of water, and stuck the offending dianthus caryophyllus with all its mates in the glass. He’d dispose of them later, before he took his Benadryl.

  He turned around to find Tikron leaning against the doorframe, Albert looking content in his arms. “Are you planning on going like that? Don’t get me wrong, it looks great on you, but knowing how you don’t like to draw attention to yourself, you may want to consider something a little more toned down.”

  Richard’s cheeks heated. He’d forgotten he’d stripped out of his work clothes, and being chilled, he’d pulled on a pair of Mario eight-bit fleece sleep pants. “I didn’t plan on going out this evening.”

  “Mmm, we’re eating in?” Richard blinked. “You did agree to have dinner with me.”

  Richard cocked his head. “I did?” He sneezed and then sneezed again, the damn flowers already messing with his sinuses.

  “Yup.” Tikron’s smile fell. He set Albert down on the floor, then moved up close to Richard. “Are you okay?” He laid the back of his hand against Richard’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  Richard snatched a Kleenex from the counter and sneezed a couple more times. “Not sick, just allergic to flowers.”

  “Oh crap. I’m sorry.” Tikron made a circular motion with his finger, then pointed to something behind Richard.

  Richard turned around to find the glass of flowers had vanished. He glanced back and forth from the empty counter to Tikron several times. “How did you do that?” Tikron started to say something, but Richard held his hand up. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

  Enough crazy for one day. Without another look at Tikron, Richard strolled over to the table and cracked the bottle of brandy open. He poured a healthy measure
into the glass, then brought it up and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor.

  Tikron stepped up next to him and laid his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that. I had promised myself I wasn’t going to use magic tonight.”

  “Magic isn’t real.” Even as he said it, he realized how flat he sounded. He really wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He took a big swig of brandy and instantly started to cough, the alcohol burning all the way down to his gut. “God, this stuff is disgusting.”

  “Then why are you indulging in it, if I might ask?”

  Richard slammed the glass down, and of course the dark liquid splashed over the edges and landed on the table, Richard’s arm, and his shirt. He jerked back, put his hands on his hips, and glared at the larger man. “This is your fault. Before meeting you, I had a perfectly normal life. I didn’t daydream, drink alcohol, or believe in magic.”

  “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

  “You can say you’re sorry!”

  “Well…. There really isn’t anything wrong with alcohol as long as you don’t drink it to excess, and daydreaming and magic are wonderful things to have in your daily life. So instead of saying I’m sorry, how about, you’re welcome.” Tikron smiled broadly, looking like he was just pleased as punch.

  Richard stared at him for a moment longer, but he was too tired to hold on to his anger. He also didn’t have a good argument against Tikron’s statement. Finally he huffed out a breath and spun around to go wash his hands.

  Tikron followed him. “Is believing in magic really that horrible of a notion?”

  Richard flipped on the tap and lathered up his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Aw, Richard. Your response makes me incredibly sad. Whether from a supernatural or natural source, it’s around you every day, in everything you do. It makes life exciting.”