The bottle jumped, and she almost dropped it.
"What the fuck is going on?” Macy muttered, trying to peer inside the bottle. She couldn't see anything through the cloudy glass, but she knew something was inside. She sensed something in there, but how could that be? Tina didn't seem to notice anything unusual, but Madame Zena definitely did. Macy felt sure the fact that she noticed it was the reason the woman sold her the bottle.
So what would she do with it? She set the bottle on her kitchen table and took a step back. It just sat there. If she expected any tricks, she was disappointed. But then, the stopper remained attached. Macy glanced at the top of the bottle, wondering if she really wanted to remove it. She wanted to, but she didn't want to. She felt nervous and excited and, suddenly, extremely stupid. What did she think might happen? Barbara Eden popping out seemed highly unlikely, and Macy laughed at her own nervousness.
"This is ridiculous,” she said aloud, and reached for the bottle. She tugged at the stopper, but it stuck firmly. She tightened her grasp and tugged harder.
Finally, it loosened, and Macy pulled it out. She looked in the bottle, but still couldn't see anything. She set it back on the table with the top next to it and stared at the bottle. She stared harder, took a step closer, then a step back. Nothing happened. Macy didn't take her eyes off the bottle for another full minute before laughing nervously and dropping onto her sofa. She rubbed her face with her hands and chuckled to herself. Madame Zena apparently meant to freak her out.
Macy opened her eyes and discovered a filmy blue smoke in the room. She gasped as the smoke swirled into a shape, and suddenly a man stood in front of her. Squealing, she leaned back into the sofa and tucked her knees to her chest.
"Greetings, Mistress,” the vision said, and Macy clamped her hands over her eyes.
She tried to calm herself and slow her breathing before she peeked out to discover if she still saw anything. She did, and the thing she saw had the shape of a very fine man. Macy dropped her hands and stared at him. He stood several inches taller than her, with neatly trimmed black hair and a Van Dyke beard on a very handsome face. His deep brown eyes watched her with amusement.
They stared at each other silently for a moment before Macy forced herself to break away from his magnetic gaze and glance over the rest of him. His firm, tanned body rippled with muscles, and he wore only a small blue vest and billowy white silk pants drawn tight at his waist and ankles.
"No fez?” The comment slipped out of Macy's mouth before she could stop herself. She looked at his face, sincerely hoping he had a sense of humor.
He stared at her a moment before smiling. “I could never get into the fez. Hats don't do a thing for me."
He took a step closer to her.
Macy scrambled off the sofa and kept some distance between them. He seemed friendly enough, but the whole situation was slightly unusual-unusual hell, she decided ... fucking nuts. “Who are you?"
He offered her a small bow. “I am Eugene, at your service, Mistress."
"Eugene?” She repeated aloud. “As in ‘Genie'? Genie in a bottle?"
He scowled and replied, “I prefer Eugene, Mistress. And yes, obviously, I came from the bottle."
Macy squeezed her arms around herself and shivered. “I think I'm the one who's been hitting the bottle. Funny, I don't remember drinking anything."
Eugene smiled. “You obviously weren't expecting me. Whoever gave you the bottle didn't tell you what might be inside?"
"I, uh, bought it at this weird little shop downtown. I had no idea what was inside."
"You bought it?” He raised his eyebrows. “Then I truly am in your debt."
He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it gently.
Macy wanted to pull her hand back, but his felt warm and welcoming, so she left it. He looked even more handsome up close, and she noticed a gold hoop in his left ear. She tried to remember the saying about pierced ears to determine a guy's sexual preference-"left is right, and right is wrong.” She bit back a chuckle and wondered why she thought the man standing in front of her might be gay. His pants were a little fruity, but the rest of him oozed masculinity, earring or no earring.
"You have a question for me?” He watched her intently.
"Yes. No!” She couldn't ask him if he was gay. She didn't even know why she wondered such a thing! She had a hell of a bigger problem than that. A strange man stood in her apartment, and he hadn't come in through the door ... he came in through a puff of smoke. “Yes.” Macy reconsidered. “What are you doing here?"
He kissed the back of her hand one more time before releasing her and crossing his arms. He bowed to her again and said, “Your wish is my command."
"Excuse me?” Macy stared blankly.
He put his hands on his hips and smirked. “Aw, come on. Don't tell me you haven't seen the movies. Arabian Nights? Aladdin?"
"Well, sure. But they were just movies."
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio ... than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Macy stared at him. “You're quoting Hamlet?"
"Shakespeare,” he corrected.
"I know.” She nodded. “Shakespeare wrote Hamlet, and Hamlet said that."
"He got published? Really?” Eugene grinned. “I wasn't aware of that. I knew Bill when he worked as a starving artist. He always threw around fancy phrases like that."
Macy dropped back onto the edge of the sofa. “You knew Shakespeare?"
He shrugged. “I've known lots of people. Right now, my focus is on you. I guess I need to explain the rules."
"I guess you do,” she agreed, her head spinning.
"I'm here to grant you three wishes. The usual caveats apply, of course. I can't make anyone fall in love with you, and I can't kill anyone."
Macy stared at him dumbly. “Three wishes?"
"You're quick,” he teased her. “Do I need to repeat the parts about love and death?"
"No.” She waved a hand. “I get that. I just can't believe this is happening to me."
"Believe it,” he told her and smiled.
She smiled back and stood to face him. “You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"
He raised his hands. “I'm not touching you, Mistress, I promise."
Macy rolled her eyes. “That's not what I meant. Are you fooling with me? Joking? Teasing?"
"If it was a joke, how did I get here?"
Good question, she thought. Could it be true? Could she really have three wishes?
"What the hell.” She tossed her hands up. “Let's test this sucker out. I want to be rich, I know that much. That's my first wish."
"Mistress,” Eugene touched her shoulder. “I must advise you to think very carefully about whatever you wish for. Things are not always as they seem."
"What do you mean?"
"How do you say it...?” He searched for words. “The grass is not always greener on the other side."
She smiled at that. “It's a hell of a lot greener with money than without. I'm sick of pinching pennies and clipping coupons. I want to be rich."
"But have you given careful consideration to all the—"
"Are these my three wishes, or aren't they? Maybe it's a bunch of crap, and there really are no wishes!"
"I assure you..."
She interrupted him again. “Then do as I ask! I want to be rich. I wish that I were rich."
Eugene looked at her sadly, brought his hands to a praying position in front of him and bowed his head. “May it be so."
Macy's phone rang. She shot an irritated glance at Eugene before lifting the receiver. “Yeah, hello?"
"Macy,” Tina gushed. “Have you seen the TV? They just announced the lottery numbers, and I think you may have them."
"How do you know?” Macy asked carefully.
"You play the same damn numbers every week. Your birthday, your mother's birthday, your brother's birthday, blah blah blah. 8-17-24-28-30-31."
; "Those are my numbers!” Macy squealed.
"I told you!” Tina squealed back.
"Holy cow.” Macy hopped up and down.
"Put that ticket someplace safe! The lottery office won't be open until Monday. We'll take the day off, and I'll drive you there."
"That gives me a day and a half to figure this out,” Macy said. “I don't want anyone to know about it yet."
"Are you kidding? This is great P.R.! The firm is going to go nuts."
"Tina, please. Let me think about this a little more."
"Yeah, whatever, sweetie."
"Tina, I mean it. I need to think about this before I tell anybody."
"Okay, go think and dream about everything you're going to buy. I'll talk to you later."
"Later, right,” Macy hung up the phone and grinned at Eugene. “You did it."
He held his hands out and nodded his head to her. “Your wish is my command."
"Woo hoo!” she squealed, and grabbed him around the neck for a hug. His body stiffened for a moment, and Macy wondered if she should have grabbed him, but then he relaxed and hugged her back. “This is unbelievable."
He smiled as she released him and spun around the room. “I'm rich. I'm really rich."
"A hundred million dollars, more or less."
She stared at him. “A hundred million dollars? Holy shit!” She dropped back onto the sofa.
The phone rang again, and Macy snatched it up. “Hello?"
"Macy, baby,” her mother screamed. “You won the lottery!"
"Mom, how did you find out about this already?"
"Tina called your brother, and Teddy called me. We're so excited."
"I'll bet.” Macy thought to herself that she might kill Tina. She asked her-no, told her not to say anything to anyone.
"So how much do you think you're going to get after taxes? Are you going to get it all at once, or in payments? It's going to make a difference, you know, on what you're able to buy and when. If you take payments, you get more money, but it's spread out. The lump sum would be a little less cash, but we'd have it all at once."
"We?” Macy repeated. This didn't sound good.
"I'm just trying to be helpful, honey. You're going to need some advisors to handle an amount of money that big."
"You're right, Mom, I will.” And it won't be you, or Teddy, or even Tina, she thought to herself.
"You know how much your Uncle Steve has been suffering. This money could really turn things around for him."
"Uncle Steve?” Macy said, thinking of her mother's brother. He suffered because he drank too much and considered playing the ponies a career. “Mother, Uncle Steve is going to burn through whatever money I give him."
"So are you saying you're not going to remember your family when you come into this fortune? You'll be richer than you could ever imagine, and you're going to begrudge your aunts, uncles and cousins a little happiness?"
Aunts, uncles and cousins, for Pete's sake. Her mother must be making a list right now of everyone to share Macy's money with. “I'm not saying anything, Mom. I haven't had time to think about this yet. Please, just give me some time."
"Oh, Tina's on the TV,” her mother hollered. “Channel Six. Turn it on. She looks so good."
Macy shook her head as she reached for the remote control and punched it on to Channel Six. Tina appeared, speaking with reporters about how she and Macy went into Joe's Shop Mart and bought the lottery tickets. A photo of Macy flashed on the screen.
"Christ,” she muttered. “I've got to go, Mom. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, but remember..."
Macy punched the off button and tossed the phone down. She didn't need any more of her mother's advice right now. “This is unbelievable."
"It sure is.” Eugene took the remote control from her hand and sat down on the sofa, punching buttons and changing channels. “Cool."
Macy smiled and sat next to him. “Have you ever seen TV before?"
"Of course, I have,” he scoffed. “But this device is something new."
"In the last thirty years or so.” She took the remote back. “How long have you been in that bottle?"
He looked at her and shrugged. “Time flies. Usually I come out, grant three wishes, and go right back in."
"Wow,” Macy thought about that, and then looked back at the TV screen. “I can't believe she's telling people, after I asked her not to."
"This person is a friend of yours?"
"My best friend.” Macy emphasized the word.
He appeared confused. “Why would your best friend go against your wishes?"
She sighed. “Because with Tina, you always know who comes first. Tina looks out for number one. She's nothing if not consistent."
Eugene seemed to ponder that as the doorbell buzzed. “What now?” Macy wondered aloud. She went to the door and opened it to her sweet little old next-door neighbor. “Hi, Mrs. Gleason."
"Macy, darling, we heard your wonderful news.” She thrust a plate of chocolate chip cookies into Macy's hands. “I brought you some cookies. I know how much you like them."
"Uh, yeah, I sure do. Thanks a lot.” She started to close the door when Mrs. Gleason wedged her foot in the jamb.
"I should be getting back, you know how Mr. Gleason hasn't been well. He needs surgery, but Medicare won't cover it."
"Yeah, I remember you mentioned that.” Macy put her hand on the door. Mr. Gleason weighed about five hundred pounds, and Medicare wouldn't cover the stomach stapling procedure his doctor recommended. Macy felt sorry for the Gleasons, but it really wasn't her problem. “Thanks again for the cookies, I should go."
"I only thought if you won all that money like the TV said you did, maybe you could—"
Macy interrupted. “Mrs. Gleason, I just found out about the lottery a few minutes ago. I don't have any details yet. Perhaps when I've gotten more information, I might be able to help you out, but right now I don't know and can't make any promises."
The woman wagged her finger at Macy. “You just remember who your friends are, little missy."
"Oh, yes, ma'am.” Macy shoved the woman's foot out and closed her door, locking the deadbolt securely. She turned around to Eugene, who flipped through the TV channels as quickly as he could. “This is unreal."
He looked up, and Macy realized she still held the remote control. “Hey, how did you do that?"
He stood up, ignoring the question. “Are those cookies?” Eugene lifted the plastic wrap and took one, nibbling on it. “Mmmm, chocolate chip, my favorite."
Macy stared at him. “So ... you ... eat?"
He grinned and helped himself to another cookie. “Of course, I eat. Actually, I'm starving."
"I'm sorry. I don't have much in the fridge. We could order in. Do you like pizza or Chinese food?"
Eugene's eyes lit up. “I love Chinese food. Sweet and Sour Pork, Kung Pao Chicken, Wonton Soup, Crab Rangoon, Fried Egg Rolls."
"Holy cow,” Macy chuckled. “You want all that?"
"I haven't had any good Chinese in such a long time.” He raised his eyebrows at her “Besides, it's not like you can't afford it."
"I suppose so.” Macy called her neighborhood restaurant and ordered all of Eugene's favorites delivered, deciding it was the least she could do. While they waited, he amused himself with the TV, and she answered the phone.
"Is this Macy Green?” the caller asked.
"Yes, who's speaking please?"
"You don't know me, but my name is Susan Sparks. I live over on Central Avenue. My husband and I have a six year old son born with Muscular Dystrophy."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Sparks. What can I do for you?"
"Well, little Jason is getting along pretty good, but there is this experimental treatment that we'd like to consider—"
"And let me guess, your insurance company won't pay because it's experimental?"
"That's right! With just twenty-five thousand dollars, we could—"
"I'm sorry. I'
m not able to take requests for money right now.” Macy started to hang up, but hesitated as she heard the woman screaming at her.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars is nothing to you. How can you turn your back on my little boy?"
Macy cringed and hung up the phone. She took a few more calls that were similar in nature before she took her phone off the hook.
"Good idea.” Eugene nodded.
"I can't believe how people come crawling out of the woodwork when someone comes into a little money."
"It's not exactly a little money, though, is it?” he asked her.
"Well, no, but a person has to draw the line somewhere. How am I supposed to choose who to help and who not to help? Everyone seems to have a sad story."
The doorbell buzzed, and Macy peeked through the peephole before opening up to the familiar little Asian deliveryman. He grinned at her. “Hey, I hear you hit it real lucky today."
"That's what everyone is telling me. I'm not so sure about it, myself.” She stacked the food on her table and pulled out two twenties to pay the thirty-two dollar tab.
"Thank you.” The man waved at her and started to leave.
"Hey, my change?” Macy called after him.
He scowled at her. “You win lottery and won't even give me tip?” He began cursing in a language Macy could not understand, and tossed her eight dollars back at her.
"You can have this,” she offered three ones to him, her customary tip.
He cursed and spat on the ground in the hallway before stomping off without the bills.
Macy closed the door and locked it then leaned up against it. “Good Lord,” she muttered, the realization of her situation finally sinking in.
Eugene stopped opening cartons to smile at her. “Sucks, huh?"
"Oh, yeah.” She slumped down at the table next to him. “Everyone wants something from me. I haven't seen a dime yet, and I'm supposed to share with everyone I meet?"
"That's right.” He searched her cabinets and came up with plates and silverware. “Why don't you put it out of your mind for awhile and enjoy your dinner? I know I'm going to."
Romp Fantasy Digest Page 10