After the meeting Jackie Hamilton, a blonde drone from Personnel, squished six people into her old Mercedes sedan and drove to Papa John’s for pizza. Sarah sat in the backseat wedged next to Avery Gross and his big package. For once she thought she held her own next to his annoying perfection. Every time he shifted his finely sculpted legs to make more room for his junk—which seemed to have healed up nicely because he was definitely back to waggling it at people—Sarah amused herself crossing and uncrossing her now magically long-looking legs. She could tell Avery noticed.
The dress had transformed her. Sarah’s toenails, ragged from a summer spent in dire need of a pedicure, appeared polished blue. Chubby and ghost white limbs looked lean and tan. Unshaven legs didn’t need pantyhose. A comfortable sigh slid through Sarah, the rare kind of an average woman enjoying a pretty day. Her contentment had required zero casting and none of the actual sacrifice of a worker drone, unlike mani-pedi-facial-spa-chick, woman-in-business Jackie. Now that Labor Day had passed, Jackie had apparently given up her carefree summer navy suit for brown and strapped on a tan Fitbit bracelet to match. The woman wore a size two, because thin was in for female executives and she had her career path and life by the gonads, goddammit.
Crammed in the hot backseat with her head against Avery’s shoulder, Sarah tried to get a read of him, allowing the drone of voices and the background music of ABBA to lull her into a bit of a trance. If she was going to try Avery on for size, and possibly weaken the spell pulling her to Paul, it seemed like a good idea to find out some things, like if he had a wife at home. But the start and stop of Jackie’s car traveling up Boston Post Road pushed her life into Sarah’s head instead of Avery’s.
Family of mill workers. Lots to prove.
Divorced, working mother. Big surprise, Jackie has bigger balls than most men.
One daughter who’d been taking her SATs since middle school. Poor kid.
Determined to override Jackie’s boring facts about her wretched kid being primed for an Ivy League college—any New England Ivy League college because Jackie would show them all—Sarah turned her face against Avery’s arm and sniffed him. Axe body wash. Seriously, dude? Plenty of aerosol deodorant. Cares zip about the ozone. Freshly ironed shirt. Maybe he lives with his mother.
Jackie parked almost half a mile from the restaurant, explaining she needed to get five thousand steps in by noon. Everyone in the car grumbled, and Sarah agonized in Aunt Lily’s heels. She regretted not cramming the fly up the woman’s perfectly powdered nose when she had the chance.
Seated at lunch across the table from Avery, she took revenge with every bite of her extra-cheese, stuffed-crust pepperoni pizza and large Cherry Coke. Jackie had to earn her dress size with a side salad and no dressing. So, hah, and I went to Brown.
While Avery blathered on about working out, Sarah pondered the different ways she could wear this same dress if she invested in suit jackets, sweaters, belts, and vests. On the car ride back Sarah realized she’d only thought about Paul thirty or forty times all morning, and maybe she should leave her office once or twice a month to hang with these people during lunch. They weren’t as deep as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, and they weren’t as hot as a bunch of 18th Century Outlander Scots, but they hadn’t made her want to cast flames into their genitals—the fly hardly counted—and pizza definitely tasted better with conversation.
Avery walked ahead with Jackie, who had to park at the back of the lot because she could score another five hundred steps. Twice he glanced back at Sarah bringing up the rear in her stilettos. She managed to keep them on and hadn’t cried once, although she had a feeling that tonight when she took them off and put her feet flat she might.
The second time he looked back Sarah knew their conversation was about her. It didn’t take any pull from dark matter to know that, or to move in with her finely tuned witchy senses and eavesdrop on their conversation.
“You’re kidding, she went to Brown University?” said Jackie.
So boring, but yeah, suck it.
“What kind of grades did she get?”
“Pretty decent I heard,” Avery said.
Come on you loser! I aced everything, and I didn’t cast to do it either! Funny thing about witches, when they did anything by hand they wanted accolades and a parade.
“Why is she still a clerk after two years? I’ve never seen her put in for a single new position, and everything internal comes over my desk.”
“That’s the question,” said Avery. “Maybe she has no ambition.”
You asshole! I like the job!
“If she graduated from Brown she has ambition.”
Swoosh! Skinny bitch knows it.
“Does she always dress like that?” asked Jackie.
Sarah smoothed the sides of the sheath dress down. She dresses awesome, but today is nothing but net.
“We-ell!” Avery dragged the word out and ended with a cough as an exclamation point. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into her today.”
Total hotness. Sarah waved at the guards sitting inside their shack near the entrance to the building. She flashed her badge and swayed her hips. Am I right, guys? The female guards looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Oh, fuck you both, bitches.
Jackie never once looked back, clomping alongside Avery in her sensible loafers. “That’s probably why she’s still a clerk. It just shows a lack of class.”
What?
“I bet it’s expensive. Most of her clothes look pretty high-end.”
You all are more obsessed with money than a coven of witches.
“Yeah, but that looks like it belongs to her wealthy little sister. I’m surprised she can sit down in it without blowing the seams out. I couldn’t bear to look when she climbed in and out of the car.”
Bitch!
“In her defense I’ve never seen her wear anything like that before.”
“Maybe Mercer can get her into one of my Dress for Success classes. I’m embarrassed for her, but I could help her out.”
Ugh! An angry noise shot out of Sarah’s mouth and she surreptitiously pointed the tips of her fingers at Jackie’s back. Avery held the door open for her, but of course Jackie couldn’t have that. Her iron gonads might drop off if she let a man help her. The spell hit her as she reached to hold the door for him, forcing her unwilling body over the threshold into a face plant in the middle of reception. From outside the doors Sarah heard the squeaky sound Jackie’s skin made as it slid across polished floor.
Sarah could have handled a rude remark, but not pity. Genuine embarrassment made her meaner than she might have been, especially since a niggling realization hit her. It would have to be one freaking powerful spell to cast on everyone looking at the dress years later, but it wouldn’t need to be near as strong if it was cast only on the wearer! This dress is casting on me!
Sarah tromped past Jackie and Avery as he attempted to help the woman to stand, while still respecting her independence as a woman to help herself up. Oh, it sucks to be a man in the 21st Century! Talk like a Cinderella Mouse, Avery!
Sarah let that spell fly too. It had little strength, and wouldn’t last, but she knew he’d said something in a high squeaky voice when everyone gathered around Jackie’s prone form burst out laughing, including Jackie.
Whatever! The aftershock of both spells hit Sarah as she stomped up the stairs, and she tripped up the last one, hiccupping a high-pitched helium sound.
“Did you guys drink at lunch?” Mindy Millerton stood above her, brows raised.
Sarah hiccupped the sound again and said in a high-pitched voice, “Do I look like a fat pig in this dress? Tell me the truth!” The last word was punctuated with another hiccup, but Mindy didn’t laugh. She stood clutching a large Pendaflex file, wearing a cheap, shapeless off-the-rack dress in probably a size sixteen. Considering Mindy stood barely over five feet tall, Sarah’s remark couldn’t have been directed at a worse person.
“Did someone say that? I keep a shank in my purse if
you need it.”
“Come on, Mindy! Why did you say it looked so good?”
“It does.” Mindy gazed at her, complete sincerity in her expression. “I’d fuck you.”
Sarah laughed the hiccupping mouse sound. “Liar. I think we could be friends though.”
“Yeah? Maybe if you lost ten pounds and gave me all your hand-me-downs,” said Mindy, “and stopped eating baby mice at lunch.”
“Seriously girl-crushing on you right now,” Sarah said as her normal voice returned.
Mindy waved bye with her middle finger. “You left your cell phone on your desk. It’s been ringing for the last two hours. What nerd outside middle school uses Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off as a ringtone?”
Paul! Sarah’s mind shot to him like a compass returning north.
“I might have looked at it and noticed you have calls from the Shrewsbury Police Department. Second hand clothes, huh, shyster?” Mindy marched off, tossing over her shoulder, “If they give you the chair for stealing, will me your clothes? I’ll pretend we were friends posthumously.”
Sarah, thank you for getting me out!” Paul’s voice faltered as he swept his eyes over her dress, but he wisely said nothing about it. The cops didn’t seem to notice. Paul signed his release papers and Sarah ran her debit card to pay the fines, and they stepped out the front doorway of the station.
Sarah grabbed his arm and hauled him off to the side. “Now will you admit you feel the draw? Or do you have another reason for sleeping in the park by my house?”
Paul couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Actually, I had nowhere else to sleep.”
“Why didn’t you get a hotel room?”
He waited for several cops to pass them and go inside before replying in a low voice, “Not enough cash.”
“What? You drive a BMW convertible! Why can’t you afford a hotel?”
“The car is my father’s. I was supposed to pick it up for him. I have no money because I left Afghanistan four months ago. Apparently nobody wants to hire an EMT who spent the past three months in a psychiatric hospital in Dallas.”
Whoa.
Psychiatric hospital? And I showed him I was a witch!
“Why were you in a psychiatric hospital?”
“Are you going to judge? I mean as a woman claiming to be a witch, who thinks she’s caught up in a love spell, I don’t think you should be casting any stones.”
“I’m not judging. It was because of the war, wasn’t it?”
Paul didn’t answer. He still wore the polo shirt and jeans he’d had on the last time she saw him, and dark circles ringed his eyes.
“How about I feed you? You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“Nothing weird? I am ravenous.”
“No. I promise.”
On the way home Sarah swung by Chick-Fil-A and picked up too much food. They ate sitting on the sofa with the Weather Channel on mute. Paul devoured two sandwiches and two orders of waffle fries. He picked at Sarah’s fries until she surrendered them, wondering when he had eaten last. He fell asleep on the couch without having said much more than, “Do you have any more ketchup?”
It was eleven o’clock in the evening before Sarah remembered to change out of the wretched dress. Ten minutes later she stood in the backyard in her favorite pajamas and lit the dress on fire. It took three bottles of charcoal lighter to get rid of it and left a two foot in diameter scorched circle in the grass. When she turned around, Paul stood on the back porch leaning against the railing, watching.
“Didn’t like that one so much?” he asked.
“No.”
“Yeah. Me neither. Thanks for dinner, Sarah, and for bailing me out.”
“You’re not leaving?”
“Yeah. I have a bus ticket to get back up to New Hampshire. I’m pretty sure I can change the date on it, and I’ll wait for the car up there.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me, Paul. You’ll get arrested sleeping in a park up there too.” Am I in-fucking-sane? I can’t have him staying here!
“I thought you were trying to limit our time together. I’m supposed to call instead of coming over, remember? Don’t feel sorry for me, Sarah. My family has money oozing out the ears, oil and fracking kind of money. All I have to do is toe the line for my share. I’m just not a cooperative man.”
It sounded familiar. The murky origins of the Archer fortune were far worse than oil and fracking, another one of the reasons Sarah wouldn’t touch it. Sarah crossed her arms and studied Paul. At this particular moment the obsessive draw to him took the form of a need to make sure he was safe. The term three months in a psychiatric hospital had done a lot to twist the pull toward him into something close to maternal.
“Are you honestly not drawn to me?”
Paul crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar on the porch, gazing down at her. “You seem really nice.”
Sarah laughed. “I’m not. You don’t have to try not to hurt my feelings. Be candid. You’re not dreaming about me? Or having obsessive thoughts about us? Desperate to—you know?”
“Do men ever do those first two, even when they are in love?”
The other witches in her family’s coven used to refer to Aunt Lily’s men as groupies or love slaves. Sarah nodded. “Yes, definitely. So not the first two, but the third? Despite these pajamas you find me attractive?”
“Ugly PJs don’t hide the pretty.” He pronounced it purdy. “But I’d say that about a lot of women. No offense.”
“None taken. I just want to be clear about this. When it comes to hot nasty sex with me you could take it or leave it?”
Paul shifted uncomfortably. “Yankee women say exactly what they think, don’t they?”
It was weird. Maybe she should tell him to go; it would make life easier on her. The fact that she could suddenly tell him to go was uncanny. The fact that Paul felt no pull was downright bizarre. Sarah knew the bindings of a love spell had wrapped them both that night in the parking lot. But if it hadn’t bound him to her or her to him for very long, what had happened to change it?
“Stay. Please? I’d like to figure out what’s going on. There’s plenty of room.” Sarah skipped up the steps and led the way through the back door. “There’s an apartment right off the kitchen. I think it’s nice.”
Sarah had never been inside it. Housekeepers had lived in it, quiet unobtrusive women who rarely spoke. She had a moment of anxiety before she flipped the door open and hit the light switch, half wondering if she’d find a cinderblock cell. But the space was roomy and bright, with a wet bar and small refrigerator. A window even looked over the side yard.
Relieved, Sarah led the way across thick carpet as though she’d been there before. “It has a bathroom.”
The bathroom startled her. It opened into the far side of the room. A mirror as wide as the double sink reflected Sarah and Paul as they approached. Apparently no one in her family had ever been in the room either, or it would have been destroyed. Sarah eyed it uneasily, but the only scary thing she saw was the mirror image of her wearing baggy pajamas.
Digging through drawers, Sarah found new toothbrushes, soap, and towels. The last woman had left immediately after news came of Aunt Lily and her mother’s deaths, but apparently she’d cleaned her room first. Other than three years of dust and some rust in the toilet bowl, it wasn’t bad.
“You sure?” Paul asked, already eyeing the toothbrushes.
“Positive,” said Sarah. “There are just a couple house rules. Stay out of the attic and basement. I’d rather you didn’t go into any of the bedrooms upstairs either, at least any of the rooms with the doors shut. Feel free to root through closets for anything you might need downstairs, but don’t open any clay pots or glass jars that are sealed shut. Um. I don’t cook, but I guess you can. Be careful not to use any cast iron or copper pots if you do. Oh, and they grow everywhere, but don’t use the fresh herbs. Also, don’t let anyone inside. In fact if anyone knocks at the door, don’t answer it no matt
er what they say. And the guy who does the yard work, don’t try to talk to him if you see him.”
“Okay, that’s more than a couple house rules. Is it all right if I run the vacuum and do some laundry?”
“Oh, hell, I might really fall in love with you if you do.”
Paul lifted his brows.
“You know that’s a joke, right? The laundry room and vacuums are down the hall to the right. I’m going to bed now. I have to be at work early. Call me if you have any problems during the day.” Sarah walked out the apartment door, then turned around and stuck her head back in. “Goodnight, Paul.”
IT TOOK A long time to fall asleep. Sarah had locked the bedroom door against Paul, just in case he had some sort of delayed love spell attack. Like I’d have minded. But in reality she might have minded.
The majority of the night passed with Sarah tossing and turning, worrying about Paul as though he were her child. What happened to him in Afghanistan that left him in a psychiatric hospital for months? What is the story with his family? Does the guy sleep in parks often? The dark circles under his eyes haunted Sarah’s dreams when she did fall asleep; consuming her thoughts more than the love spell gone astray. Whatever the spell had done, it had surely been festering and growing this whole time. Yet her feelings for Paul were no longer anything like any love spell she’d ever seen.
Paul didn’t come out of his apartment before she left for work. Sarah rooted through cupboards and found a lone box of Cream of Wheat that hadn’t expired. She left it on the kitchen counter with a note that there was milk in the fridge. Just in case he doesn’t recognize milk when he looks in there.
Sarah entered the breakroom at work at the same time as Mindy. Someone else had already made a pot of nasty coffee.
Bitch Witch Page 6