literal leigh 05.6 - karma inc

by Melanie James

  “Yeah. Date from hell. Give me a minute to get undately then I’ll tell you all about it. Save some ice cream for me.” I went back to my room, accompanied by Lorena. Loosey, the more affectionate name for Lucifer’s Bastard, remained in the kitchen. From the alternating barks and whimpers, he was engaged in some serious ice cream negotiations.

  I placed my new dress on a hanger and took a deep breath. Lorena cocked her little head, giving me her “What’s wrong?” look.

  “I’ll be okay, Lorena. Just as soon as I get out of this torso tourniquet.” I tore off the Spanx and threw it in the general direction of my dresser. It’s a satisfying feeling when you remove a constricting undergarment. The effect is doubled when you throw the thing across the room. “Ahhh.” Everything reverted back into its natural form. “See that? I’m a shapeshifting were-girl.”

  One last look at the dress. “Damn.”

  When I went into the living room, Esmeralda was sitting on the floor, leaning back on her arms. Loosey was playfully using her legs for hurdles. “How bad?” she asked.

  “On the Franchetti failed date five point scale, a five requiring bail money, I’d say a 4.5. The icing on the cake was when I was rear-ended on the drive home. Hit and run to boot.”

  Esmeralda raised an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. You obviously had some high expectations from this guy. That’s what I want to know about.”

  “Excuse me while I become one of those people for a few minutes.” Ezzy knew what I meant by those people. They’re ones who don’t just talk to you for conversation. No, those people feel as if it’s their duty to unravel a gut wrenchingly bad script filled with drama and lost possibilities every single time you talk to them.

  “Ah. That bad? Proceed with your rant.”

  “Ugh. All right. His name is Scott, but henceforth, he shall be known as Jackass Scott. I met him at a party about a month ago. One of the teachers I work with, Kim, had a little get together at her place and she introduced me to her brother, Scott. Super cute guy, I’ll give him that. We chatted and seemed to hit it off. Did the whole social media exchange, and from there, he really got to me through Facebook. I mean, he knew exactly what to say to make me think he was special, and that I was special. I mentioned my Chihuahua rescue work and boom, he’s been a lifelong supporter of Chihuahua rescues. That was just the beginning. I swear he picked up on every post, every comment, every page I liked. If I had an interest or opinion on something, he was coincidentally one hundred percent in tune with it also. I didn’t realize at the time he was just stalking my Facebook page, learning everything about me, then using the information to make himself look perfectly compatible. Here I’m thinking it’s a miracle that I may have bumped into the guy who I could actually have something meaningful with.”

  “Your entire psychological profile is out there on the internet? Jesus, Kel. To the creepers, Facebook must be like going to a candy store. Seems like he put way too much effort into it. Anyway, so what happened?”

  “First, let me tell you that I’m fully aware of the risks of social media. But this guy was so different. He seemed so fresh and interesting, unlike the herds of unemployed penis photographers.”

  Esmeralda feigned disappointment. “What? Herds of penis photographers? Okay, now I’m really sorry that I’m the only person in the Western Hemisphere who isn’t using Facebook. I want to meet the herd!”

  “No, Ezzy, you don’t. For some reason, every creep from here to Camel Spit Mongolia just loves to send out awful pictures of their tiny, deformed members. Yep. Unsolicited anonymous cock shots on social media, the zeitgeist of my generation, I suppose. If it’s not that, it’s some crappy pornography. In any case, I was impressed by Jackass Scott from the beginning.”

  “He has a nice one?”

  “Smartass.” I nudged Esmeralda with my knee. “No, he was the opposite of all the online jerks. Then he asked me out to dinner. More specifically, he said ‘a cozy romantic dinner’. That filled my head with silly romantic notions. Of course, I haven’t had a real romantic date in forever, if at all. I got stupidly giddy about the idea. I bought a dress that I really couldn’t afford, and even stuffed myself into one of those diabolical body shapers. I honestly looked forward to this night for over a week.”

  “I assume this is when you tell me how your date spirals downward into the depths of hell?”

  “Exactly. I thought it was a little odd that he asked if I would pick him up. Sure, I’m all about equality and all that, I just imagined him picking me up. Come to find out, his car was repossessed. ‘And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway’, he says, ‘because his driver’s license was suspended for a DUI’. A DUI that, in his pea-sized brain, was his ex’s fault.”

  “What? Did she duct tape him to the steering wheel, gag him with a beer bong, and turn his car on?”

  “Right? That’s damn near the same thing I thought. He gave me some long convoluted story about this and that. I knew in that very instant he lived by the Professional Victim’s Creed, blame everything on someone else. Always. You know the type, they carry their own sidewalk chalk, just in case. Anyway, we had to park a block away from the first stop he wants to make. I suppose he doesn’t want anyone to see him getting a ride from his ‘date’. The place turns out to be some shithole corner bar where his friends and his ex-girlfriend are hanging out. I felt completely ignored while he was getting obliterated. Then I suddenly became the target of his ex-girlfriend’s screaming tirade! Talk about drama. She didn’t back down until I threw a pitcher of crappy beer on her mullet.”

  “Kelly! I’m shocked and a little disappointed. You should have at least blackened her eye, knocked a tooth out, something.”

  “It took sheer willpower. I wasn’t going to jail for that pack of assholes. I walked out and came straight home. What can I say? The guy turned out to be an immature drunk. And you want to know what made it worse? He took me to that slut shack because he knew she’d be there. He just wanted to parade me around…show me off to his friends and his crazy ex. Ugh.”

  “Listen, Kelly, the way I see it, if someone has to go around trying to prove to the masses they’re not a loser, then it simply means they can’t even convince themselves.”

  “That’s exactly right. And to think this loser thought it was something he just had to do on our way to his so-called, cozy, romantic dinner. Nice way to set the tone for the evening. Yeah. Cozy, romantic dinner? My ass!”

  “Sometimes you go looking for Prince Charming and you can’t even find the frog. I get what you were hoping for. Despite my coldhearted reputation, don’t think for a minute that I wouldn’t like to be romanced the right way. It’s an unspoken and unrealized fantasy of mine.” Ezzy paused as if a dusty old memory slipped away from the place where she kept her regrets. With a shake of her head, she continued her fairy tale discourse. “But I refuse to kiss a metric assload of frogs in order to find a winner. Please. I’m not that desperate.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m over it already. Mostly. I want to enjoy that damn dress. I really like it. But I’m afraid every time I look at it, I’ll be reminded of the time I became a gullible fool. So out of character for me.”

  “Take some consolation in the fact that one day Karma is going to visit your boy, Jackass Scott. And all the rest of the jackasses, losers, liars, jerks, and those socially networked penises. Besides, we’ve got each other to hang out with, and the occasional boy toy.” Esmeralda gave me a very sly, tight lipped smile. “A little debauchery makes you forget about all that mushy romance.”

  “Karma. Pfff. Karma’s overrated. It takes too long to show up. By then, you’ll miss out on seeing the look on their face when they realize Karma just paid a visit. Where’s the sadistic enjoyment in learning about it third or fourth hand? No, I want front row seats. I don’t just want to gloat, I want to experience some of that frickin’ schadenfreude!”

  “You’re talking to the right witch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, list
en. I’m going to tell you this because you’re my only friend. I know you’ll keep it a secret. Right?”

  “Uh huh.” I agreed, but something about the way she spoke in a hushed voice worried me. What sort of confession was I about to get thrown on my conscience?

  Esmeralda leaned closer. “Black magic.” Her words were spoken as if she were suggesting we hire a hit man.

  I jerked my head back. “Ezzy? Isn’t that, you know…” My fingers made quote marks in the air. “Forbidden?”

  Esmeralda swatted at the air and my air quotes fell back to my lap. “I know, I know. A witch says those words and everyone loses their damn minds. Especially at the Witches Union. But that’s only because they’re afraid it will be used against other witches or start World War III. I’m talking about a few hexes, some curses. You know, throw some magic variables into Jackass Scott’s life. Call it teaching him how to be a nicer guy, a better citizen, call it whatever. But you and I? We both know what it’s about.”

  “Revenge,” I said as if I just ordered my favorite pizza at Geno’s East.

  Esmeralda nodded. Her sly smile had returned.

  Chapter Three

  Magical Mischief

  I joined Ezzy on the floor and we sat crossed legged, facing each other. “So, what’s our first step?”

  “My my, Kel, what an eager beaver you are. You really are on board with this. Okay, step one. We need a cellphone.”

  “Really? Nothing cool like spider eyes?” I picked up my phone and set it between us.

  “Now, order some pizza and some of those mozzarella sticks. Don’t forget the dippy sauce stuff for the mozzarella sticks.”

  “I should’ve known. Pizza whore.” That little comment elicited some genuine laughter from her. Despite our sometimes snippy behavior, Ezzy and I share the same sense of humor, and I appreciated her company.

  “What? Why do you think I come to Chicago? The weather?”

  I pointed to myself with both hands. “This, baby. This.”

  “You might do for dessert, but pizza is always my ulterior motive to come to Chicago. Make the call.”

  Once the order was called in, Esmeralda went over to a pile of black clothes and rummaged around for her purse. I expected to see her yank some money out or a credit card to pay for the food. Instead, she returned with her miniature broom.

  The only thing I knew about those little brooms was they were used to travel. When I say travel, I mean instantaneous teleportation to a place that’s designated in a carefully recited incantation. It’s a very delicate thing to monkey around with when you consider that you could end up anywhere in the world, with a slip of the tongue. I received my broom last Halloween and I’ve only used it by myself twice. The last time was to travel to New Orleans to visit my brother, Randy and my friend, Gertie. I ended up going for a swim in Bayou Lafourche. I already have a phobia about water, so you can just imagine my mental state after I ended up in some alligator infested swamp.

  “What about the pizza, Ezzy?” She didn’t answer. There was a bright flash of light accompanied by a sizzling sound. It left a scent that reminded me of the unique smell that comes with an approaching summer thunderstorm. Loosey barked wildly and Lorena’s little nose cautiously poked at the swirling wisps of emerald smoke. Ezzy was gone. They looked up at me, wiggling nervously. “Don’t worry about Ezzy. She’ll be back. The pizza is on its way.” My words had no effect on my jumpy little dogs.

  We didn’t have to wait long. Esmeralda’s return was accompanied by another showy display of magic and the head splitting barks of my Chihuahuas. Next to Esmeralda was an antique trunk. It was covered in worn black leather, with dark wooden slats. Even the brass hardware was tarnished to the point where it nearly matched the leather. What made it unusual was the length. I had the strange thought that it could be used as a coffin.

  “That was quick. Is that an old steamer trunk?”

  “This, my beautiful apprentice, is everything we’ll need.” She slapped her hand on top of the old trunk. Hollow thumps resonated through the room. The dogs whimpered, taking cover behind the couch, and I knew why. The old chest seemed to have an aura of foreboding. I approached it slowly and when I reached to touch it, I froze.

  “My God, this thing is ancient. What’s in it?”

  Ezzy huffed as she dragged the chest into the center of the living room. She placed her hands on her hips and blew a few loose strands of hair from her face. “Open it up and see for yourself.” Ezzy’s chirpy tone was unfamiliar and I suspected a setup.

  “This better not be some prank. If my brother pops up out of this thing, I swear I’ll kick both of your asses.”

  “Relax, Kelly. Here, we’ll open it together. Unfasten the latches on the right, I’ll take care of the rest, and we’ll open it. There’s no prank here. I’m actually excited to be doing this.”

  Ezzy’s words provided enough reassurance for me to actually touch the chest. The latches had been closed for a long time, and it took some effort to pop them open. Ezzy looked over the chest, her face beamed with anticipation. “Ready, set, go.”

  The heavy lid opened to a vertical position and was held open by locking support arms. The underside of the lid had several compartments, each one had a door with a simple latch to keep it closed. The inside of the chest held surprisingly few items: some folded green cloth embellished with gold stars and planets, an ebony staff with a brass crescent moon fitted to one end, a folded robe covered in a rainbow pattern of colored feathers, and a bizarre tribal face mask carved out of wood. The mask intrigued me, and I immediately picked it up.

  “Whoa, Ezzy. Now this is very cool.” The mask had a fierce looking elongated face. I rubbed my finger against the wood, which was lightly stained with faded red and yellow colors. “African?”

  “No, it’s from Papua New Guinea, actually. It goes with the feathered cape. The other stuff is Druid. So much for the white robed goobers holding hands at Stonehenge, huh?”

  “Okay, two questions, Ezzy. First, where did you get these things? Second, they might be good for trick-or-treating, but how can they help with magic?”

  “There’s one more little item you haven’t seen. It’s under here somewhere.” Ezzy picked up the feather cape and lifted out a black velvet bag. “Here it is. Um…I’ll take it out of the bag later. Anyway, this trunk and everything in it belonged to a pair of old witches who had a reputation for mischief. In their wills, they specified that it would be left to the Witches Union. When their time came, these things showed up at the office. I asked around…more or less, to see if anyone had an interest in them. The general consensus was that it was a box full of antiquated junk. Marie told me to put it in the storeroom. After a while, my curiosity got the best of me, and I brought it home.”

  “And Marie was okay with you taking it home?”

  “I didn’t exactly tell anyone, so let’s just keep it between us. There are some potions and powders in the compartments. Instant magic from Africa called Juju.”

  “Juju? You’re kidding, Ezzy.”

  “Look it up if you don’t believe me. Bad luck charms, curse powders, the kind of things I would call on-the-spot sort of spells. Now, for the potent shizz. All of the other items in this chest are charged with magic of another certain type…some people might call it the Left Hand Path, Black Magic, whatever. Combined, they are used for your more complicated curses. The kind that you can watch unfold over a few hours, days, or even generations. Powerful stuff. That was the type of magic the previous owners of the chest were interested in. I couldn’t make any of it do jack. It takes two witches. You know that each witch has a specialty. For example, Gertie has her animal magic, Leigh has her magic desk, Marie is the Voodoo expert, and I have a knack for potions and candle magic. You’re just learning what your specialty is going to be. So far, it seems that written spells and alchemy might be what has found you. In any case, the more of us that get together, the stronger the magic becomes. It’s the whole purpose of a coven.”r />
  “And here we are. The two of us.”

  “Yep. Here we are. Two witches and this little guy.” Esmeralda removed the black cloth, revealing the mysterious object. “Say hello to my little friend.” In her hands she held a large, ceramic, garden décor frog. Not just a frog, but a two foot tall caricature of a green frog standing on his hind legs, his arms folded across his chest. To top it off, the ridiculous frog was dressed in biker apparel; a leather visor cap, black leather vest, and matching chaps.

  “You’re kidding. Right? My mom has two garden frogs from that same set in her flower beds, the biker chick and the grandpa frog. And they’re about as magical as…well, as magical as garden gnomes.” I snagged the frog from Ezzy’s hands and looked at it. “You really believe this is a charmed object?”

  “You have to wake him up. It’s simple, really. Hold it in front of your face. Say the phrase ‘Conjuro te Barnabas’ three times, then put your mouth right on his belly and blow.”

  “Okay, where’s the camera? I know that if I do this, I’ll be the star in the next video gone viral. I’m not blowing some biker frog.”

  “I’m serious. Trust me when I say it’s amazing. The only instructions left in the trunk were how to awaken the guide spirit. Once you awaken the guide, we’ll be able to take our magic to a new level.”