by Linda Mooney
“Okay. I think I've finally found something positive about this place.”
“What?”
“This town has some fine looking XY chromosomes.”
Rick nearly spewed his beer. “Hey, genius. XY chromosomes are male. Females are XX.”
Booey blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I'm sure,” Rick laughed.
The latest song wound down. At the same time, the front door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. And five raving beauties.
“Ho-lee shit,” Booey muttered almost reverently, staring like someone had whacked him across the face with a two-by-four.
Rick snorted, his beer to his lips for another sip as he also checked out the new clientele. Booey was right. They were undeniably, heart-stoppingly beautiful. What his dad used to call a real Dutch mixture, too—a blonde, a redhead, a brunette...
He froze.
There she was. The black-haired angel from earlier in the day. He was so shocked at seeing her walk into the pizza parlor, he inhaled his drink and started choking. Booey pounded him across the back a few times before getting up and going over to introduce himself.
Rick continued to try and clear his burning lungs as he searched the table for some napkins to wipe his streaming eyes, but the waitress had yet to bring fresh table settings. He started to use the sleeve of his jacket when a tissue was thrust under his nose. Gratefully he accepted it and wiped his face. After a moment, he turned to the person who he knew had taken Booey's chair, finally able to face her without embarrassing himself.
“Thanks,” he choked out. A good swig of beer cleared his throat, and Rick took a shaky breath.
“Go down the wrong pipe?” she asked with an amused smile.
“Yeah. Something like that.” He stuck a hand out. “Rick Carr.”
“Kimberly Blakeney,” the dark-haired beauty responded, taking his hand.
They shook, but he was reluctant to let her go.
“Is Rick short for Richard?”
“I wish,” he chuckled. “It's short for Frederick. Dad was Fred. Officially I'm a junior, but I'll be damned if I'll let people call me Freddy.”
“I've never heard of a Frederick Carr. You must be new in town,” she commented.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat again and waved down a waitress. “What can I get you to drink?”
She glanced at his choice of brew. “What you're having will be fine.”
Rick nodded and held up two fingers. He used the tissue to wipe off the table, unable to look again at the woman for the moment. She was sitting so close to him, his cock was starting to migrate toward her like a needle on a compass.
Heaven help him, she was every man's wet dream up close. Her eyes were a dark, dark brown, almost black. She'd pulled her hair back into a tail at the nape of her neck, but at the same time it revealed her long, elegant neck. Rick was a sucker for women's necks and shoulders. Booey often teased him about it, wondering if there wasn't something inherently wrong with a guy who didn't first get turned on by a pair of tits or a shapely ass. But Rick found nothing more inviting than a sweet expanse of unblemished skin that begged to be touched and kissed.
Their drinks were delivered. Rick looked around the place, trying to find Booey. If he could catch the guy's eye, he'd give him the signal that he may be a bit late getting back to their room. If he was lucky, that is. But the guy was nowhere to be seen.
“Looking for your friend?” Kimberly asked.
“Yeah. I just need to make sure he stays out of trouble.” Rick managed a nervous smile. Mr. Cool, he could never be. The same for pretending to be Mr. Suave or Mr. Heart Throb. Those personas were not him, which was probably why he'd never had a lot of girlfriends in the past. Rick sent up a short prayer, hoping tonight his luck would change.
“What about your friends?” he managed to stammer. The pizza arrived, smelling like manna from heaven. He grabbed a slice and rolled it first before bringing it to his mouth. “'Scuse me, but I haven't eaten since early this morning. Have a piece.”
“No. No, thank you. I've already had dinner.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Those aren't my friends. I mean, not in the way you're thinking. They're my sisters.”
Rick paused in mid-chew. “Your sisters?” he managed to ask, glancing back at the way the young women had headed. “How many do you have?”
Kimberly laughed. It was deep and throaty, and his cock tried to stand at attention at the sound of it.
“Four. I have four sisters. Actually, Sandy is my twin.”
“Any brothers?”
“No. No brothers. There's just Daddy and us. Mom died...” Her voice faded away as a look of intense sadness crossed her beautiful face.
“Hey, it's okay. My dad died about ten years ago. Mom passed away last year. So, what brings you and your sisters to this place if you've already had something to eat?”
“Oh...” She flashed him a quick smile. “Every now and then we like to play bare bellies and beer.” Kimberly gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “It's a silly game, really, but we enjoy it.”
A huge whoop filled the back area of the pizza parlor. Someone cranked up the jukebox as it started playing an old Garth Brooks tune. The crowd parted slightly, and Rick caught sight of two of her sisters standing barefoot on top of a pool table. They had shucked their jackets to show they were wearing midriff tops with their jeans. Very thin tops that, if anyone cared to look, revealed glimpses of the undersides of their braless breasts as they gyrated and danced to the tune. Presently, a third sister joined them, which seemed to please the crowd who hooted and cheered.
“That's bare bellies and beer,” Kimberly nonchalantly informed him.
Rick watched for another few seconds, then turned back around in his seat. “Do you do that often?”
“No, thank goodness. Sometimes we get bored, or we just need to get rid of the stress, so we come into town to let our hair down.”
“Come into town? You mean you don't live here?”
He watched as she took a long swig of her drink. Her lips were wrapped around the mouth of the bottle in a way that nearly made him lightheaded to think about having those same lips closed around the head of his cock.
“Our farm is about ten miles outside of town.”
“A farm?”
“Um-hmm.”
“What do you raise?”
“Vegetables, mostly. Some flowers and herbs, but our biggest crops are vegetables. We come into town every weekend to set up a stall at the farmers market. That's what I was doing today, paying for our booth for this weekend.” She gave Rick a shy smile. “I saw you go by.”
“I saw you, too,” he confessed. “I was hoping I'd get to see you again.”
“So...enough about me. What brought you to Toppers Cove? We're not exactly what people would consider to be a hub of activity.”
“Booey and I got jobs at the plant.”
“Ah.” She smiled and took another drink. “I'd figured that much when I saw your car heading in that direction. But it still doesn't explain why you're here. Surely there are other places where you can find employment?”
Rick stared at the table where he was making wet ring patterns with the bottom of his bottle. “We were employed. At a paper mill in Chicago.”
“Paper mill?”
“Yeah. Stationery and printer paper, that sort of thing. We also made the slick paper used by magazines. The division I was in produced those rolls of newsprint that newspapers use. With the rise of the internet, newspapers have really suffered. In just the past three years we've lost nearly a third of our sales.”
“And with lost sales comes a reduction in the workforce,” Kimberly equated.
“That's right,” he nodded slowly. “So instead of re-assigning us to another department, they let us go.”
“Which leads us right back to where we were five minutes ago,” she laughed.
Rick smiled. “Why we landed in Toppers Cove. Truth is, I grew up in Portland.�
�
“Maine?”
“Yeah.”
“That's right up the coast!”
“Yep. We lived there until Dad died, and Mom moved back home. But I remembered her talking about the east coast. About how much she loved it, and how she missed it. I remembered her talking once about the factory, so, on a hunch, I called to see if they might be interested in interviewing.” He held up his hands and gestured. “And here we are!”
Kimberly started to say something more when Booey came rushing over to their table. “Yo, Rick! Rick!” He leaned over the pizza, nearly planting his arm in it, and panted, “Rick, we need to talk.”
“Later, Booey. Kimberly, this is Brad Nelliman, otherwise known as Booey.”
She laughed. “Why Booey?”
“Rick! You and me, outside, now! ” Booey insisted. By the look on his face, Rick could tell the man was both deadly serious and truly fearful about something. But it wasn't as though this was the first time his friend had found out something earth-shattering that he had to immediately share.
“Can't it wait?” he asked his friend, trying to be as obvious as possible that the interruption was not welcomed.
The young man glanced at Kimberly, and his face went two shades paler. Swinging around the table to Rick's opposite side, Booey shoved his lips against his friend's ear.
“Bad news, dude! Ditch the chick, and do it now! ”
Rick's first reaction was disbelief. His second was anger. He turned to his friend to make it clear the man was rapidly getting on his last nerve. “Who the fuck do you think are, telling me who I can and cannot be with?” he demanded of the agitated man.
Booey bit his lips. His eyes kept glancing back and forth between his friend and the black-haired woman sitting next to him. When it became obvious Rick wasn't going to budge, he leaned back toward him and hissed, “She's bad news, Rick. Really, really bad news! They told me back there to let you know. She and her sisters...they're witches!”
Chapter Four
Rick stared at his agitated friend in disbelief. “What did you just say?”
“Her.” Booey nodded in Kimberly's direction. “Her and her sisters. They're witches!”
Rick glanced down at the long neck in the man's hand. “Booey, have you been swinging between beer and the hard stuff?”
“I'm not shitting you, man! She's bad news!” He put his free hand on Rick's shoulder. Rick quickly brushed it off.
“Have you eaten anything since we've been here?”
Booey looked hurt that his best bud wasn't taking him seriously. Reaching over the tray, Rick grabbed a slice of pizza and held it out to him.
“Here. Eat something. It'll help clear that buzz in your head. You just probably misunderstood them.”
Booey took the pizza, but didn't take a bite. “What do you mean, I misunderstood them?”
“Maybe I'd better go.” For the first time, Kimberly commented in response to Booey's announcement. Rick leaned over and grabbed her hand.
“No,” he told her firmly. “You're staying. I'm not letting—”
“What do you mean, I misunderstood?” Booey loudly demanded again.
Rick sighed loudly. He was tired. Tired from the long drive. Tired from their indoctrination at the new job. And more than that, he was tired of Booey sticking his nose in his personal life.
“Maybe they said bitches! ” he almost yelled. “Maybe they said she and her sisters were bitches! Now get out of my face before I plant my fist in the middle of yours!”
Booey got up and stomped out of the building. It was then Rick realized the other patrons had been watching the drama, curious to see how it would end. Well, he hated to disappoint them, but he was in no mood for fisticuffs.
Fortunately, Booey was smart enough to know when he had tread on his friend's last nerve, and it was time to back off. Rick took a swig of his beer. Someone punched up a Rolling Stones oldie on the jukebox, and the noise gradually resumed its normal level. It was then he realized he was still gripping Kimberly's hand.
“Please forgive my friend. He can get...intense.”
“It's okay,” she whispered. “Maybe...maybe you need to go apologize to him.”
Rick gave her a puzzled look. “Apologize? Why?”
“Because he's right,” she softly told him.
“Right about what?”
“About me and my sisters.”
He gave a little grunt. “I don't care what he thinks, or what he says about you and your family.”
“Maybe...maybe you should.”
He paused with the beer at his lips. Now he was curious. “Maybe I should? What for? Lots of guys call women bitches, especially if a girl brushes off a guy.”
“That's not what I meant,” Kimberly explained, slowly shaking her head. “He was right about me being a witch. A witch, Rick. Not a bitch. Daddy is a warlock, and my sisters and I are witches.”
Rick stared at her for several seconds, then set his beer on the table. “Okay. That does it. I'm too tired to think straight, and alcohol isn't helping.”
A warm hand grabbed his upper arm. Rick felt her fingers flex around his biceps, as if testing them.
“Rick.”
He looked over to see Kimberly smiling at him, and instantly his cock went back to petrified wood status.
“If this moment has any chance of going any further, you need to know the truth. Momma was a mortal, like you are. Daddy fell in love with her, and we were born. But we don't have all the powers Daddy has. We're not full witches. We're witchlets. Half witches.”
“Half witches,” Rick echoed.
Kimberly nodded.
“You mean, like you cast spells and such?”
“We can. We do...sometimes.”
He started laughing. Not because he found what she'd said funny, but because the whole situation felt preposterous.
“You don't believe me?”
“I-I believe you,” he managed to say.
She looked down at the empty bottle in his hand. “How would you like another beer?”
Taking a deep breath, Rick nodded. “All right.” He started to get a waitress's attention, but Kimberly grabbed his hand and lowered it to the table. Reaching over with her other hand, she tapped the mouth of the bottle.
“Cold enough for you?”
Rick stared at her. He gingerly lifted the bottle, aware of its increased weight. Keeping his eyes on her expression, he took a sip.
“Damn!”
He blinked in shock and peered into the mouth.
“It's full!”
“Yep.”
He looked at her. “You filled it up?”
“Uh-huh.”
“With witchcraft?”
She shrugged with one shoulder, but he could tell she was enjoying herself.
“If you want to call it that.”
“People like you really exist?”
“We always have. We've learned to stick to ourselves and try not to create waves. Why do you think we live so far out of town?”
“Except for nights you like to come in here and play bare bellies and beer.” He grinned to show he was teasing.
She giggled. “You're right, but you have to remember we're considered locals. Momma was born and raised in this area. All my sisters and I are native Topperites. We don't cause trouble, and because we keep pretty much to ourselves, people around here tolerate us.”
“I don't suppose if I piss you off, you might turn me into a frog or something?”
Kimberly suddenly grew serious. “I could never turn you into a frog.”
“You sure?” He smiled, hoping to hide his nervousness. This woman was a real witch. A real living and breathing, spell-casting witch. The longer he sat there with her, the more confusion he felt because he was comfortable with her. Regardless of the fact that she claimed, and was, a creature he'd never believed actually existed, it felt so natural to be with her, as if they were meant to be together. He didn't know if he should run screaming, or
live dangerously and take the risk.
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't have that kind of power.”
Rick stared at his full bottle of beer, debating what his next move would be, when Kimberly took matters into her own hands. He felt her cup his chin and lift it, as if to make him look her in the face. A second later, she was kissing him.
Chapter Five
He got back to the inn a few minutes after midnight to find Booey sitting up in bed and watching television. Normally, Booey would stay at the bars until closing time, while Rick cut out early. Finding his old friend still awake and apparently waiting for him didn't surprise him.
He threw his jacket onto a nearby chair and went into the bathroom. A quick shower helped to rid himself of the gritty feeling coating his skin from the processing plant, plus it eased his muscles enough to enable him get some sleep tonight. Climbing underneath the covers, Rick rolled over with his back to his friend, and closed his eyes. Mentally, he began counting down to see how long it would take before Booey said anything. He didn't have to wait long.
“You're really hooked on that girl, aren't you?”
“Her name"s Kimberly.”
“Her name's trouble, man! Can't you see I'm trying to protect you?”
Rick rolled over to face him. “All I know is you've heard some sort of outlandish tale, and you swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.”
Booey shut off the TV, and turned to face him. “It's no tale, Rick. It's the God's honest truth. That girl and her sisters are witches! I'm not making this up!”
For a moment, Rick debated whether or not to let the guy know he'd found out he'd been telling the truth, but curiosity won out. He wanted to learn more about what the locals thought about the Blakeneys. Just how dangerous did these people think Kimberly and her family were to them?
“Booey, you know as well as I do that witches are make believe. At least the kind that wear black hats and ride broomsticks don't. They don't exist, like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.”
“Rick, you didn't see what I saw tonight,” Booey insisted. His eyes grew bigger as his voice dropped. “You know that cute redheaded one? The one with the rack?”