The Accidental Genie

by Dakota Cassidy

  Wanda’s sigh was ragged when she let her head fall back on her shoulders. “Every time we put out a fire, she sets another one.” She raised her fist to the ceiling and muttered, “What? What do you want?”

  Sloan had to fight a laugh. It was a helluva lot funnier when it was someone else’s wish granted. “So what do we do about this?” he asked, forcing a snort deep down in his throat. Because in truth, it wasn’t funny. Shame on him for thinking it was funny.

  Wanda turned to Darnell, her eyes weary. “Say we can fix this, Darnell. We need to fix this, demon. If that reporter was right about her facts, there were over two hundred women in that store—now all expecting little bundles of joy—including, as Nina so succinctly put it, a dude.”

  “C’mon,” Darnell said, putting his hand under Wanda’s elbow and leading her to the door. “We gonna go see where Casey is and fix what needs fixin’. But if me an Casey do the demon hoodoo and make it all go away like we did them people landin’ in hell, it won’t last but a coupla days because it ain’t our spell. Jeannie’s the only one who can break the spell and make it right.”

  Mass pregnancy. Jeannie’d created a mass pregnancy.

  Sloan had to hide another chuckle. So twelve. So inappropriate.

  * * *

  JEANNIE leaned over Nekaar and patted a cold compress to his face, pressing a second one to her own. She didn’t think she had anything left in her in the way of surprise, but knocking up a whole store full of women, including a man, after someone threw a random wish out she’d never even heard with her own ears? It was a little too much like Moses parting the Red Sea from, say, Albuquerque for her. It had to stop or she’d never have any genie friends. Not to mention, she could be creating havoc all over the world and have no prior knowledge it was her in charge of the havoc just because someone had used the words I wish.

  Turning her attention to Nekaar, she asked, “Better?”

  “It is so, madam,” he mumbled, clearly ashamed of his outburst. He hadn’t met her eyes since she’d sat him down in the kitchen.

  She slid into the chair beside him at her table for one and reached out a hand, cupping his forearm. “I’m sorry about Burt. I’m sure he had good qualities. Those people on Facebook are just meanie butts is all.” Maybe he was kind to small animals, seniors, and little children?

  “No,” he whispered, his voice heavy with sadness. “No. They are right, madam. Burt was a blight on the djinn community. He did more bad than good, and he lived as though djinn law did not apply to him. No one liked Burt. Not a soul. He was scum. He was also a fashion disaster. It is so.”

  She made a face of sympathy, but Burt’s imprisonment had her very curious. What did you have to do to end up locked in genie jail—forever? “May I ask a very personal question?”

  His nod was that of agreement, his square chin remaining close to his chest.

  She hesitated for a moment and then decided it was better to just get it over with so she had a frame of reference for things not to do when you’re a genie. “What did Burt do that made you curse him into the bottle?” What was so horrible that your own brother would curse you away forever?

  Nekaar’s lower lip trembled when he lifted his shiny head. “His trickery and deceit sent my beloved away. In return, I sent Burt away.”

  “Djinn have girlfriends?” This was refreshing to know. Because someday, when she got back on that dating horse, she’d have a whole new realm to ride it in. Or veil . . . or whatever.

  “They do indeed, madam.”

  “May I pry further? I don’t want to dredge up painful memories at such a sensitive time.”

  He rolled his hand in a proceed motion, then folded them together into a large fist.

  “What did he do to your beloved that would make you take such harsh measures?”

  Nekaar’s sigh was bereft, his somber expression distorted with pain. “As I’ve said, Burt was full of trickery. A real King of Snark, as you’d say here in your land. He often put himself in a bottle to lie in wait for an unsuspecting victim. He thought it was humorous to dupe the innocent. When the poor soul opened the bottle, Burt would, as all djinn must, offer him his three obligatory wishes.”

  She remembered what Sloan had said about headaches, losing your head, and something about wording your wishes distinctly. “I’m guessing a lot of people got exactly what they wished for?”

  His wide shoulders, shoulders that filled her small chair and overpowered the back of it, shuddered. “Oh, madam, if only you knew the depths of my brother’s deceit and the lengths at which I have gone to correct them. When your heart is pure, the wishes you grant are as such. Contrary to your pop culture beliefs, the majority of recipients use their wishes to bring joy. Do those recipients ask for riches? Indeed. Though, I find in most cases, they ask due to a lifetime of great financial struggle. Do they ask for love? Again, indeed, and it is almost always with good intent. Also, contrary to what you may have read or heard, an imprisoned genie is quite rare. Obligatory wishes are not as common as you’d think.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Who knows what could happen if I ever get stuck in another bottle again. I think Genie World might explode the way I hand them out like they’re Halloween candy. So we’ve established Burt played games when it came to granting wishes.”

  He sniffed his disapproval. “Sadly, when your heart is black and cold, you do not grant joyful wishes. Burt had done this one too many times, and had been given several warnings after we had to tidy up yet another of his messes. There was always a fire to put out where my brother was concerned. I grew weary, madam, as I would hope you can surely understand. I had detached myself from Burt and his hijinks—banished him from my life with the strict order that if he were to tarnish our name again, there would be consequences. His reputation was that of a hooligan, and I wanted no part of it. I warned him!” he shouted with vehemence, then shrank back in his chair again. “During this time of peace and reflection in my life, I met my one true love, Leila. We had a lovely romance . . .” His words were thwarted by a sniffle.

  Jeannie winced. This wasn’t going to be an HEA. She just knew it. “But?”

  “But Burt, as with everything else, tore her from me,” he yelled, reanimated again as he dropped his large fist to the table. Squaring his wide shoulders, he sucked in a breath. “Burt was jealous of Leila, pathetically so. So jealous he used his gift of trickery, and one night, taking on my visage . . . He convinced Leila that he . . .”

  Jeannie blanched, putting her hand to Nekaar’s mouth to quiet him. She didn’t want to hurt him. No one knew how painful it was to dredge up your past than she did. “Shhh. Enough said. I think I know where this is going.”

  He shook his head, the pain of losing his girlfriend evident. “Alas, Leila was infuriated. As was I, you understand. So infuriated, I summoned the most horrific of all curses in my ire. It was better this way. Better that Burt could no longer hurt not just mere mortals, but my beloved. Yet, now see what I have done. You are doomed to an eternity with a man you did not wish for. Though, I see the pretty man’s eyes as he watches you, and there are emotions you shall soon address. I see emotions in you, too, madam. Powerful. Painful. Emotions you must address . . .” He spoke the last words low, as though he was a soothsayer sharing a secret.

  Tears stung Jeannie’s eyes at Nekaar’s uncanny insight. “I have lots of things to address. What I don’t have is a clue about how to be a genie.”

  His finger whipped into the air in an excited gesture, the pain in his eyes now replaced with a glitter of excitement. “This I can fix! You have no control over your magic, nor do you have any idea the ways of the djinn, as it was thrust upon you rather than given as a gift. But I promise you, in return for my egregious error, I shall be your guide. I will teach you all there is to know about the genie lifestyle. Until then, I beg your forgiveness with a thousand deep regrets.
”

  “Any ideas on who would want to steal the bottle, and how it ended up at the party I was catering? Someone who was maybe in cahoots with Burt?”

  His bald head moved in definitive motion. “I know not, madam. I know only that Burt’s bottle turned up missing a week ago when I did my weekly bottle cleaning. But fear not, I shall search the veils high and low to find the scoundrel who brought this disaster upon you!”

  “Why didn’t whoever stole the bottle just open it themselves and let Burt out?”

  “Because, madam, I must remind you of djinn law. When one leaves the bottle, another unfortunate soul must replace him.”

  Right. Djinn law. “So that more than likely means that the person who got me to open the bottle was in this thing with Burt?” Damn, if only she could remember who that person was. Yay, short-term memory.

  Nekaar’s nod was solemn, as if the very idea there could be someone as dirty as Burt out there pained him. “It is quite possibly so.”

  “Why would this person who helped Burt, be at the party I was catering? Do genies live here”—she looked around her kitchen with suspicion—“on this plane?”

  “They do, indeed, madam. If they are inclined to mischief, a party with the rich and indulgent is certainly appealing for one such heathen. We are simple in our lifestyle, madam. Not all of us require the toys you humans so treasure. And as I have stated, we are not allowed to wish for personal gain. Some djinn find this intolerable after a taste of life on this plane. Thus, they must earn their playthings much in the way you do. Or like Burt, they, as you say, sponge off the kindness of others.”

  “So whipping up a flat screen is like totally off the table?” she joked, squeezing his arm.

  Nekaar finally let slip a chuckle, and Jeannie found it was pleasant to her ears. “Without question, madam.”

  Hopelessness welled in the pit of her stomach again. “Isn’t there anyone we can appeal to about this curse? You know, like the High Priestess of Magic Makers or the Grand Poo-Bah of Djinn? Surely there’s someone who can overrule a huge mistake like this? Maybe pardon me? Parole? Community service? Something?”

  Nekaar paused in thought. “There is, of course, a ruler of our realm, and would that we appeal to him.”

  She slapped her hand on the table and smiled at him. “That’s good news, Nekaar! How do we find him? Does he Facebook, too? Tweet, maybe?”

  Nekaar’s face fell. “No, madam. Yet, even if he did, it would bring you naught.”

  Naught. Nay. Nada. Nyet. Nine. If she only had a hundred bucks for every time she’d heard the word no in the past two days. “Why is everything no with you people? I mean it’s always, no, Jeannie, you can’t break your mystical bond with Sloan or someone gets dead. No, Jeannie. You’re right; you don’t look so hot in your genie uniform. No, Jeannie. You can’t grant endless wishes because the djinn say that’s impossible. No, no, no. Don’t you think whoever the big guy is in your world would want to do something about me? I’m out—of—control here. I just got a whole store full of women pregnant. I got a man pregnant. I’m like the special ops, ninja genie. I’m clearly a burden to your society—so why is the answer no?”

  Nekaar put a finger on his phone and dragged it toward them. He clicked the screen on and pointed to its face. “This is why, madam.”

  Jeannie read yet another Facebook post, pausing before nodding in defeat. Of course.

  She let her head fall to her arms on the table.

  Oh, woe was the life of this djinn.

  She tucked her chin into her palms, her next words muffled when she addressed the Facebook post. “Kidnapped?”

  “It is so, madam. Our Grand Poo-Bah, our great leader of the Realm has been absconded with.”

  So much shiny.

  * * *

  AFTER her chat with Nekaar, his promise to teach her how to fix the damage she’d done at the bridal store and the burger joint, and Darnell, Wanda, and Casey’s Surprise, You’re Expecting reconnaissance mission, they’d all gone to bed heavy of heart and with no answers.

  As she lay in bed, Mat in the living room with Benito and Boris, and Sloan on her bedroom floor, and after the devastating revelation from Nekaar, she made an impulsive choice. One she didn’t allow herself to think about for long before she said, “Sloan?” Jeannie leaned over the side of her bed, placing her cheek on the edge and straining to see his sharp features in the dark. Then she closed her eyes.

  “Jeannie?”

  “Will you have sex with me?”

  His silence made her want to spork her eyes out in humiliation. She’d summoned up the courage to just blurt it out, and he was staring at her as if she’d just asked him to do the closest thing to death.

  Her world had narrowed even more today. It was time to take control of something, namely, how attracted she was to Sloan. Hesitant, but still attracted.

  “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly,” he quipped, smiling at her from the floor.

  She ignored his Beyoncé joke. “So will you?”

  “Are you going to hurl dollar bills at me next?”

  “Forget it.” She flopped back on the mattress, her cheeks hot.

  Sloan’s head shot up. He peered at her over the edge of her bed, his blue eyes twinkling. “Hold on there, pardner. Where is this coming from?”

  It was coming from her long-ignored hormones. “I’m not sure.”

  His eyes narrowed in twinkling suspicion. “Oh, you’re sure, Jeannie. Don’t bullshit the bullshitter.”

  “Okay. I know where it’s coming from. Does my knowing where it’s coming from really make a difference?”

  He flicked her fingers playfully. “Yep. It does.”

  She pulled the covers over her head. “Why?”

  “Because it does. So talk or I walk.” Sloan poked his head beneath the comforter and pointed to the door by way of threat.

  Jeannie uncovered her head, though her eyes still couldn’t meet his. “This is a very uncomfortable conversation for me to have. You don’t need to know my motives to have sex with me, do you?” Were motives all the rage in one-night stands? She’d always thought there was only one. Sex.

  “This is an uncomfortable conversation for you?” Sloan scratched his head. “Huh. You just propositioned me and you’re uncomfortable?”

  Her face was getting redder by the second. “I figured you wouldn’t be offended. You do it all the time, and I’m sure there are plenty of bold blondes out there who’ve propositioned you. Turnabout and all.”

  He paused for a moment, giving her a thoughtful look. “This is about my being pretty, right?” Sloan let out a mocking dramatic sigh. “I know, I know. I’m irresistible, charming, fun, fun, fun, but I’m not just pretty, you know,” he teased, tracing the tip of her nose with his finger, making her shiver.

  “I know that.” She did. He had a job as something or other of marketing at Pack, yada, yada, yada. He was smart and pretty. Point taken.

  “So then, answer the question. Where is this coming from?” he drilled.

  Jeannie shook her head. “Why does this have to be so deep? Why don’t you just answer my question and stay out of my psyche?”

  “Because I’m not that kind of guy.”

  Jeannie rolled her eyes at him and flicked his knuckles. “Oh, you are, too. You’re exactly that guy. That’s why I asked you. Or did you forget Tootsie Pop?”

  He chuckled and leaned closer to her, their lips but inches apart, his warm breath fanning her face. “It’s Lollipop, and I didn’t have sex with her. Not once.” He said it with such conviction it was as if he’d placed his hand on a Bible.

  “Oh, but there have been plenty of others by your own admission. Did you ask them where their motivations lay?”

  He grinned all white and pretty. “Nope.”

 
How unfair. “So why are mine so important?”

  “Do you want me to list the reasons?”

  Jeannie’s eyes widened. Did she? “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  “Let me count them.” He held up three fingers and ticked them off. “Nina, Marty, Wanda. That’s just for starters. Add in Casey, Darnell, Heath, Clayton, Greg, and Keegan and we have a red carpet of reasons.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “They don’t have to know. We’ll be quiet. Er, won’t we? I mean, is sex with you a loud affair? Never mind. We can keep it on the down low. Do you tell them about every encounter you have? Because if you do, that’s just creepy and we can call this a no-go.”

  Sloan’s expression went from light and playful to ultraserious. “No. No, I don’t. Which is why they think I still have them.”

  Jeannie’s eyes purposely widened again, this time in mock shame. “You don’t have sex with random women anymore? The stripper community weeps.”

  “I don’t have sex period.”

  She snorted so hard, it hurt her throat. “That was a joke, right?”

  “No. It wasn’t a joke at all. I’ve been celibate for almost a year.”

  How convenient. “Because?”

  He smiled again, all Cheshire cat–like. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Jeannie’s shoulders sagged back into the pillow in defeat. She wanted to stomp her feet in two-year-old protest. Instead she slapped her comforter. “You’ve just ruined everything.”

  “How do you figure?” He ran his finger down the length of her nose, making her limbs warm and so buttery Jeannie had to remember she was angry with him for suddenly being celibate.

  “Because you’re the only man I’ve been in close proximity to in several years that I’m semi-comfortable with—you have all your teeth—and you bang your gong at regular intervals without looking back. All that no-regrets thing. You remember, right? The thing I so admired about you? Still admire about you, but everyone else seems to hate?”