literal leigh 05.6 - karma inc

by Melanie James

  Ezzy seemed to pick up on my slipping enthusiasm. “I sense some boredom. Maybe we should start being more selective of who we work with. You know, just take the cases that seem more interesting, more fun.”

  “That sounds great. Just so you know, it’s not all about the magic. It’s been nice, you know, having you here.”

  “And convenient.” Ezzy winked, crawling under the sheets. In less than a minute, she was fast asleep.

  I had been completely honest with Ezzy. I enjoyed having her around as a roommate day and night. Though, I’ve heard more than one person’s opinion that we’re nothing more than a pair of abrasive, sharp-tongued bitches. One would assume my condo would be 1,200 square feet of hell on earth. What they didn’t realize was that birds of a feather flock together, and we were fast becoming the best of friends. Karma, Inc. solidified our friendship.

  The next morning, we sat down at the dining table to screen emailed requests from potential clients. I opened my laptop and starting reading out loud. “Check this guy out. A co-worker took credit for my idea. She does it all the time. I’m tired of doing all the work and she gets the credit. Blah, blah, blah. Maybe after the first time, this guy would have learned his lesson about this co-worker. I’m tired of helping people who are repeat offenders of stupidity.”

  “I agree. What else do you have?”

  “Not much. Some of these people are just plain nuts. They haven’t been wronged. They’ve just had to face reality.”

  Loud, wet, slapping sounds caught my attention. I looked down to see Barney stroll through the kitchen, dripping wet. Behind him, he had left a trail of large puddles created by every flatfooted step. “Good morning, my rays of sunshine!”

  “Wrap a towel around your ass, please. Or I’ll show you what a ray of sunshine does to a messy frog.”

  “Hey, if my skin gets dry, it sheds off. Would you rather see a little water on the floor or watch your dogs playing tug of war with the skin off my ass?”

  “You forgot about the third option. Locking you back in that trunk,” I chided. Barney was a full-blooded smartass, and he appreciated a good comeback.

  Lorena, Loosey, and Hobo made a barking charge into the kitchen. Barney made a quick exit with Lorena and Loosey in hot pursuit. Hobo had lost interest in the frog, opting to jump on my lap. Hobo is the fitting name I gave to the Chihuahua I brought home from the alley.

  “I thought you were going to find a new home for that one. What happened?”

  “Eventually…maybe…He’s such a calm little sweetheart compared to the other four-legged crackheads residing here.” I scratched behind his ears, resuming the perusal of our emails. “Ooh. I may have found a good one. Check this out.” I cleared my throat and read it out loud.

  “Dear Karma, Inc., I am contacting you in response to your online ad. Here is my situation. I am a writer and it has been brought to my attention that another author (and I use the term loosely) named Bella Smithers has been stealing my characters and my settings from my most recent books. Granted, plots are really not unique, and I have zero right to claim that I was the first person to ever come up with a story idea. I completely get that. But this so-called writer has stolen my characters, their names, descriptions, even their very words! Sometimes she mixes the settings and smudges a few things, but she has been able to get away with copyright infringement! Why? Because she has a publisher with unlimited legal support. With no legal recourse, I contacted this person and politely asked her to stop this unethical practice. I begged to have my characters back, to have their worlds back. I was completely surprised by her response. Do you know what she had the gall to say?”

  “No, what?” Ezzy interjected.

  “No, Ez, I didn’t ask. She wrote that question.”

  “Mmm. Gotcha. Carry on.” Ezzy had already resumed gnawing on a bagel.

  “Where was I?” Hobo pawed at the table. “Right. Thanks, Hobo.”

  I resumed where I left off. “Do you know what she had the gall to say? She said that she was completely in her rights, and she was taught that this thievery of intellectual property was something she learned in some half-assed creative writing course. I wrote her back, unloading on her. I told her she lacked imagination and originality. I agreed that a plot is never unique, but my characters and the things they do and say are protected. That’s the law. I also told her that all the classes in the world can’t teach creativity. And she was a prime example. Unfortunately, she has made a killing by stealing my hard work. It really pisses me off that she can get away with it because she has a team of lawyers and a publisher. I’m nothing to them. Therefore, my request, indeed my greatest wish, is to witness Karma in action. I want to see Karma pay this bitch a visit! Please advise when we can meet. Jean X.”

  “Jean X? Does the ‘X’ stand for something or is that her last name?”

  “Probably just a pen name. I say we take this one. Unlike the guy who has a co-worker supposedly taking credit for his ideas, this one has some merit. This Jean X has a valid point, and she’s even contacted this other writer. What do you say, Ezzy? Should we take the bitch down?”

  “Sure. Send the mysterious Miss X a reply. Tell her to meet us at Millie’s little psychic room. Today, if she wants.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Karma Attack

  “When can I expect to see some results?” Our new client sat at the small round table. She smiled, but it wasn’t hard to tell it was a smirk of doubt, like she had seen one too many scams being pulled. She leaned back in the wooden folding chair, whisking her long dark hair to the side. This was our first meeting with Jean X. It had to be her pen name because she was anything but a Jean. She crossed her long, graceful arms over her chest, and I couldn’t help from looking at the way her white gold rings, necklace, and earrings contrasted against her bronze skin and low-cut turquoise dress. “So what is it you people do? Hire someone to go after her?”

  Ezzy gently lifted a silk crimson scarf from Millie’s not-so-magical crystal ball. “I see you’re a skeptic, Jean. Let me assure you, the results are almost immediate.”

  “Seriously? A crystal ball? Listen, sister, I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”

  “What, you don’t believe in magic? No matter, you will by the time we’re done.”

  And that little exchange with Jean was typical of how we met our clients. You see, in order to obscure the real magic, Millie’s cheesy séance room happened to be the perfect cover. From its cliché fortune teller décor to its permanent haze of incense, it practically screamed: “Fake! Fraud! Bullshit!” Nobody in their right mind would suspect that we were actually practicing real magic. No, they would assume we paid people to go out and ruin the lives of our targets. The trickiest part turned out to be keeping Barney concealed. I can’t imagine how we would ever explain what he was. The solution was as easy as a cardboard box, complete with holes for ventilation and a pillow for comfort.

  To make sure our scheme of secrecy was complete, we incorporated a more-or-less normal magic spell. I’ll explain how it was used.

  “Magic? I suppose you’re going to tell me that I’ll have to watch it all on the crystal ball?”

  “Of course not. On the television monitor over there.” Ezzy pointed to the flat screen TV on the wall.

  “Yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it. Look, I don’t care how you do it. Just make it happen, and fast. I want to let you know I’ve already set her up to be caught in the act. I shared a copy of a copyrighted book with her assistant, as well as with some other writers. It just hasn’t been officially released yet. Smithers has already written a copycat story from it. I need Karma Inc. to make sure the literary community knows, and she gets not only called out on it, but ruined over it.”

  “I think we can make that happen for you, Jean,” Ezzy replied.

  I walked out from behind the curtains. “Hello, Jean. Are you ready for some magic?” I circled the room, lighting the candles needed for our curse ritual. “So this Smithe
rs woman is nothing but a big, fat fraud?”

  “Fraud is right. Did you know she even pays for fake glowing reviews?” Jean suddenly sat straight up. “Hold on! What’s that?” Jean pointed at Barney’s box. “What’s in there? I just saw that box move!”

  “Oh, ah…probably one of the cats. You know how cats love cardboard boxes.” I pointed out a fact every cat owner knows full well.

  “Cats? I didn’t see any cats in here. I’d know if there was a cat in this room. I’m allergic.” Jean jumped to her feet. I was pretty sure she intended to investigate the box. Ezzy thought the same thing.

  “Kelly, I think this would be a good time to start things off.”

  “Right.” This was my cue. “Jean, before we start, I need you to write down the name of the person who wronged you.” I handed her a notepad and pen, she obliged with a quick scribbling of the information I requested. “Good. Now we need to clear the negative energy from the air.” I grabbed a wooden wand from a nearby shelf and handed it to Ezzy. “Esmeralda is going to perform a cleansing ritual.” Ezzy waved the wand in front of Jean, mumbling an ancient Latin phrase. With a sudden snap of her wrist, she pointed the wand directly at Jean. Our client froze.

  “Jean? Jean? Can you hear me?” Ezzy snapped her fingers, but Jean showed no sign of consciousness. “There. Suspended animation. Works every time. We’re clear to go ahead.” Barney came out of his hiding spot and hopped up on the table. He had his own crystal ball in his webby hands.

  I picked up the notepad. “Bella Smithers. I hope that’s her real name and not a pen name.”

  “Wow! She’s a knockout! You ladies need some fashion tips from her.” Barney hopped to the edge of the table and leaned towards Jean to get a closer look.

  “Yeah? You like the exotic look, Barney?”

  “I’ve spent the last few weeks watching you and Kelly bum around the condo in the same sweats, shorts, and t-shirts, day and night. You know it’s kind of like when someone has a rummage sale and they end up with bags full of clothes that nobody buys?”

  “Yeah. What’s your point?”

  “That’s the shit you guys wear around the house. You and Kelly should dress up a little.” Barney pointed toward Jean. “Like her. The two of you look like bums.”

  “Great. I’m getting dissed about my attire from a fucking frog who looks like he got kicked out of a leather bar.”

  “Come on, people, focus!” I retrieved the wooden mask and Ezzy’s antler headband from behind the curtains.

  Ezzy stripped out of Millie’s robe she used to conceal her skin tight green suit, and donned the headgear. “Better?”

  “When I see you in a black lace teddy, I’ll say you look better.” One of Barney’s big frog eyes made a weird popping noise as he attempted to wink.

  Ezzy flicked the palm of her hand up at Barney. “You talk a big game for an amphibian without genitals.”

  Barney mouthed, “I do so have genitals!” in a silent rebuttal.

  “Now, gather around.” Ezzy nodded to me and Barney. “Here we go. Bella Smithers, Bella Smithers, we curse you. We call upon the fates to deliver unto you the harvest of what you have sown. Specifically for the crimes of stealing the copyrighted works of Jean X and claiming them as your own, we curse you to suffer the pain of having your work destroyed. We also curse you to be publicly shamed in an auto-de-fé of sorts, within the literary community.”

  The antlers on Ezzy’s headgear glowed until the room was bathed in an ethereal light. The candles flickered. Barney wiggled, panting with excitement as he rubbed his ball until its surface began to shimmer with a rainbow pattern. He squinted, peering into the crystal. “There she is! I see a woman sitting at a table loaded with stacks and stacks of books on it. People are waiting in line to see her. I think she’s signing books for them.”

  “Perfect! Pause the feed now, Barney, and get back in your box.”

  “I’d rather get in her box.” He nodded toward our client.

  “Shut up, you horny little bastard. Listen and wait for the signal to send the video to the TV,” Ezzy snapped.

  “Hey, Ezzy, where do you think Jean X is from?”

  “Who knows? If I had to make a guess, I’d say South America.”

  “I like her. There’s something about her…she’s interesting,” I said.

  Ezzy wrapped herself back in the robe and picked up her wand. “I don’t disagree. There is something about her. I can’t quite put my finger on it, yet.”

  Barney croaked, “I’d like to put my finger in it—”

  I spun around, giving the box a swift kick. “Knock it off, Barney!” Ezzy whirled her wand in front of Miss X, restoring her to consciousness.

  “What? What was that? It felt like I just skipped a few seconds. Weird.”

  “Just the magic in the air. Kelly, please turn the TV on. Now I’m going to recite an incantation. Watch the screen and see if your nemesis appears.” Ezzy rambled off a stream of complete gibberish. I strolled casually over to Barney’s box, tapping three times.

  As the screen came to life, we watched the image of a woman happily signing books for throngs of adoring fans. A wild haired woman frantically pushed her way through the crowd, waving a book high above her head as she shouted, “Bella Smithers is a thief! A Plagiarist! Here! The book she’s signing was copied from some other author! I have it right here.” Several people who were close to her examined both books. Soon the welcoming crowd transformed into an angry mob.

  Bella jumped in surprise at the accusation. I thought we were going to see a violent confrontation. Instead, she sprinted for the door, only to be met by another angry mob. Only these weren’t fans turned rabid. These people had left their own book signing tables to find out what all the commotion was about. They were fellow authors. Like a frightened animal making an attempt to escape, Bella clawed her way to the top of a towering bookshelf. The shelf wobbled with every move she made.

  “I’m pretty sure the bookshelf is coming down,” I pointed out. “The crowd looks like they’re about to take the whole mess down now.” I no sooner finished my words when the bookshelf did indeed tumble to the floor. Bella landed headfirst, followed by the metal shelving unit. The screen suddenly went blank.

  “Well, that was anticlimactic.” Jean sighed and shook her head. “Whatever you did worked, obviously. I guess I expected more…”

  “Drama?” I asked.

  “No, I was thinking along the lines of violent wrath.”

  “What more can you expect? She got called out on her thievery. Her fans and peers all turned on her like a pack of hungry wolves. I’d say she got exactly what she had coming. I doubt she’ll be stealing another story.”

  Jean gazed out the window, staring in the middle of nothing. Without warning, she walked over to Barney’s box and kicked it over. “Come out, demon.” Barney rolled out of the box and scrambled to his feet. “Ah, there you are.”

  “Hold on here!” Ezzy yelled. “You know each other?”

  “No! I swear I’ve never seen her before!”

  “No, I don’t know this demon. I only smelled one in the room.” Our client glared at us. “And you two. I know this magic is witchcraft. The kind of witchcraft that has been banned. I suspected about as much, I just wanted to be sure.”

  “Be sure? Why? What’s this all about? Are you some sort of paranormal cop or something?”

  “A cop?” She laughed at my question in a way that betrayed her snobbery. When she introduced herself in a warmer tone, I had to question my initial impression of her arrogance. “Please. Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Gisele. I don’t like to meet people under such false pretenses, but these days can be dangerous for women like us. And dealing in black magic is a delicate matter.”

  “You’re a witch? A witch named Gisele?” I struggled to comprehend the idea that we had been conned by our own client.

  Ezzy oozed with skepticism. “That is certainly a damning accusation. Gisele, why haven’t I heard
of you before? I’ve worked for the Union for many years now. I think I’ve heard about every witch in America. You better come up with some proof, and pronto. Or you leave me with a limited number of options right now.” Ezzy picked up her wand and drew a blazing figure eight in the air.

  “Oh shit. Here we go.” Barney gulped and hopped behind the curtains.

  “Relax. I’m not here to turn you in, and I’m not here to fight. Here is my proof.” She waved her hands down toward her feet and back up to her face. The sound of someone squeezing a roll of bubble-wrap with incredible force began as her transformation started. And not the big bubbles, but the little tiny ones. When the sound ceased, her entire appearance had changed into the old wino we spotted out in the alley. “How’s that?” She slurred in a gravelly voice. Gisele reversed the process and returned to her previous, less unkempt form.

  “Very nice.” Ezzy snapped her wrist, the flaming number instantly extinguished. “You need to share that spell.”

  “In time. It’s not for everyone. It has a few unpleasant side effects.” Giselle discreetly wiped some remaining gunk from her upper lip. “I’m going to cut to the chase. I want in. I want to play with you girls.”

  “That depends. What do you have to offer us? We’re doing damn well right now. Besides, there’s already five of us.” Ezzy nodded to me and winked.