"Yup, and don't you feel better?"
I gave him a withering look. "Don't push it, Brody."
He returned my look with his lopsided grin and followed me out.
"I was thinking,” Brody said on the way back to The Laughing Cat, "Pilar and I need some alone time."
I waited for him to continue.
"But I can't go too far from you."
I didn't think I was going to like where this was going. "Right?"
"Well, I was wondering if maybe we could have the loft for a few hours. You could stay downstairs with Amari, and if anything happened I could be there in moments."
"You'll have to talk to Amari," I said. In an effort to hide my amusement, I planted my gaze firmly out the window. I couldn't wait to see Amari's reaction.
33
Brody made a beeline for Amari as soon as we entered the bar. It was between happy hours, so my favorite corner spot was free. I set myself up and tried not to eavesdrop.
Correction, I tried not to noticeably eavesdrop.
Eyes glued to my screen and fingers pretending to type, I strained to hear what the two men were saying over the usual bar noises.
It was no use; I couldn't make out a single word. Not even when I stopped pretending not to eavesdrop.
I tried reading their body language since I wasn't pretending anymore. Brody's stance was open and relaxed, as usual. Amari hip-leaned into the bar, his expression neutral and arms crossed.
Damn inscrutable men. And why was it taking so long? It was just one question. Why were they still talking?
When the conversation finally ended, Brody hadn't even made it to the back staircase before Amari marched over to my end of the bar, a mix of bemused humor and disbelief on his face. "Do you know what your puppy just asked me?"
We'd agreed not to call him that, but in this case, I think the name was warranted.
"Enlighten me," I said, wanting to hear Amari's version.
"He asked if he could use my loft to have sex with Pilar, and then he asked my advice on controlling his energy."
I couldn't help the belly-laugh that escaped me.
Amari was not nearly as amused. "What did you tell him?" I asked when I'd gotten the laughter under control. Mostly. I still had to bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling.
"I told him to change the sheets. And to figure it out himself. Some people just have no boundaries," he said and mindlessly rubbed an invisible spot on the bar.
I couldn't resist another chuckle at Amari's discomfort. "You should feel good that he trusted you enough to ask for help."
"No, it's weird," he said and continued rubbing the invisible spot.
"I think it's clean, Amari," I said around a grin.
Amari sighed, folded the bar towel, and slung it over his shoulder.
"So how long are we relegated to the bar?" I asked.
"I told him we'd be back after closing."
Damn, that was still hours away.
Amari read my expression. "You've got the writing to keep you occupied. Are you hungry? Can I get you something from the kitchen?"
"Ravenous," I said.
"Anything you'd like in particular?"
"Nope. Surprise me." Amari always did well guessing exactly what I wanted, even when I didn't know what I wanted.
Amari smiled at me and disappeared into the kitchen.
I usually took a break between first and second edits—anywhere from a few days to a week. It's easier for me to polish writing with fresh eyes, but, I did not have that luxury. Instead, I changed the manuscript's font, hoping I could trick my brain into thinking this was not the same thing I'd been working on all day.
It didn't work. My eyes burned with the strain of forced focus. I needed to get more done, but I was fatigued and sick of my own writing. Everything I read was terrible, poorly written shit. Why was I even writing? Surely it wasn't because I was good at it.
"Stop," I said out loud, catching the thought before it spiraled out of control. I also caught the attention of the other patrons. A fae man to my left gave me a disapproving look. "Oh, like you don't talk to yourself on occasion," I snapped.
I knew I was in a bad headspace, but I didn't know how to get out of it. I took a few deep breaths and tried again.
It didn't help.
"You'll get it done exactly when you're supposed to," said the fae man.
"Well, it needs to be done now," I said without taking my eyes off the screen. Fae logic annoyed me.
"Well,” he said, imitating my tone, “that can't be because you're not doing it."
I rolled my eyes at him. The fae could be so infuriating. Their constant riddles and doublespeak made it hard to interact with them. And what the hell was their deal with iron?
Luckily, I didn't have to navigate fae social politics for long.
"Aerwin, you know Zora doesn't like you. Why do you push her buttons?" Amari asked, reappearing with two plates.
"I was trying to help," the man said with a small smile. "She seems to need all she can get."
"What the hell does that mean?!" I yelled, and as soon as I saw the glint in the fae man's eye, I knew he'd won this battle of social graces.
"Fucking fairies," I said under my breath and turned so he was no longer in my line of sight. I looked down at the bar and walled my energy. Now I couldn't see or feel the fae man.
"I thought we could share a meal," Amari said when he saw the situation was as resolved as it was going to get.
"Perfect. I wasn't getting anything done anyway. The distraction will do me good," I said, overwhelmed with the urge to make a childish face at the fae man. I stifled the compulsion, choosing to focus on the odd arrangement of foods in front of me.
Amari gave me a sweet smile. He always appreciated when I gave his food my full attention.
"I've prepared a tasting plate. Each item will complement and build on the flavors of the last, so there's no need for an intermezzo."
I couldn't tell what anything on the plate was. Some things looked familiar, but not enough to identify for certain. Whatever it was, it wasn't typical bar fare. This was probably another one of Amari's food projects—something he tinkered with for fun, but not the type of food his patrons wanted.
Amari caught me eyeing the plate. "Will you trust me?" he asked, pulling his barstool closer to me.
He wasn’t just talking about the food. His eyes said everything. He knew his deception still weighed on me. He also knew there wasn’t anything he could do except to give me time. But he was trying.
I did trust him when it came to food. I didn't like not knowing what I was eating, but Amari knew me well enough to know the foods I couldn't stand. Still, relinquishing that small amount of control wasn't exactly comfortable.
"Close your eyes."
I gave him the look he had to know was coming.
"Do it or you don't eat," he teased.
Blind to the appearance of the food, my mouth worked overtime, analyzing texture, consistency, and flavor profiles. The first bite of bitter, crisp, leafy thing wasn't pleasant until my tongue found what was inside the leaf. Cool and fruity flavors, maybe papaya or mango, with something else I'd never tasted. The sweet fruit mixed with the bitterness of the leaf and turned into something else, something more than the sum of its parts.
"What was that?" I asked when Amari had fed me the last of it.
"Nope," he said and gently put something else to my lips. It was cool as well, slightly smoky with a touch of sea flavor. I was not a fan of the texture; in fact, my tongue didn't want to swallow it, but I forced it down anyway.
"I don't like raw fish, Amari."
"I know, but smoked salmon isn't really raw. It's smoked."
Semantics.
"I thought it was worth a try. Here, just try the next thing."
Crispy, fried, meaty. Bacon! And something else firm, slightly sweet—scallop. It wasn't exactly the latest culinary trend, but his version was amazing. Somehow Amari was able to keep
the bacon crisp without overcooking the scallop.
"You liked that one, huh?" And before I could respond, he had another morsel touching my lips.
Meat, a little more done than I typically like, but still tender. And a sauce—no, not a sauce; more like a creamy, spicy…something. The heat was just a hair over enjoyable, but it was instantly cooled by the minty gelato Amari spooned in my mouth.
"Keep your eyes closed," he said when I'd swallowed the last bit of gelato.
Amari's energy flowed to me gently, circling me, asking permission to enter the space I'd walled off.
I shook my head. I couldn't open to him without also opening to the fae man. "Not now," I said, giving a head nod toward Mr. Know-it-all.
"You know he has a point. Forcing it will only irritate and drain you," Amari said and withdrew most of his energy. I could still feel the slightest scrap tapping lightly at my wall.
"I know. But I'm behind, and I hate that feeling."
"You already told your editor you needed to push back, right?"
"Yes, but she hasn't responded, which is odd. I'd better call her tomorrow."
"Well, until then, why not take a break?"
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point.
34
"It's pretty slow tonight. Why don't we spend some time together? It's been forever since we've made time for us," Amari said, letting his sparse energy ebb and flow around my wall, putting a finer point on his request.
I leaned into it, wanting to let it in but not wanting to feel the fae man.
"And since when do you block me out?" Amari asked when his energy made no progress.
"I'm not blocking you; I'm blocking everything. Especially Mr. Know-it-all over there. Which reminds me: Did you know if you wall your energy to nons, they act normal? They don't turn into life-sucks."
"Really? Did your mother teach you that?"
"No, Brody taught me that trick. The thing is, if it was this easy all along, why did we sequester ourselves? Why doesn't every practitioner know this?"
"That’s how it's always been done." Amari shrugged, indifferent to the discovery.
"There's a better way," I said, trying to get him on board.
"I like being secluded. Nons irritate me more than newlings."
"But that's only because they act non-ish; with a wall around your energy, they act normal. Don't you see? We can have normal lives."
"I like my life the way it is, Z," Amari said. "And I think most practitioners feel the same way."
They wanted to live separate and cut off from the majority of the population? The thought had never occurred to me.
"What did your mother have to say?" Amari asked, changing the subject.
I sighed, saddened by the notion that a whole group of people intentionally separated themselves. "Apparently the heat from yesterday is part of my Roma magic. I couldn't access it until I'd initiated someone, so I've got to figure out how that works."
"You are Staven-kom," Amari said quietly, features slowly shifting into the strangest expression of reverence.
"I—what? My Romani has about ten years of rust on it. Did you just call me a Water-Sun? And why are you looking at me like that?"
"I should have believed her," he said, and shook his head, clearing the weird awe off his face. "Yes, literally it translates to ‘water-sun,’ but that form of staven makes it more like 'stream' or 'flow.' Romani isn't a literal language, so it's more like heat-flow or sun-stream. It's the title given to Roma women with ancestral sex magic—women who counsel and bring people into full alignment with sex. I know. It sounds crazy," he said to my skeptical expression. "But here you are, and that's why last night was so odd. You just didn't know what you were doing."
"Ancestral sex magic. Sounds like prostitution."
"Oh, but it's not. It's—"
"It's money exchanged for sex. That's prostitution."
"First off, it's more than that, but let's go down that road. What's wrong with supporting yourself using your magical talents? I use mine."
I wasn't expecting that, and Amari saw it on my face.
"Surprised? I'm not as diplomatic as you might think. Neutrality and tact are part of my practitioner ability. It's a skill I gained after I initiated. I can access it when I need, and I've used it to corner the market," he said and gestured to the bar.
"But—”
"No buts, Zora. It's the same thing. No one is saying you have to follow in your mother's footsteps—”
“Hold on. You knew that’s what she did? You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
Amari sighed.
“No! You don’t get to be frustrated because I’m still mad. You betrayed and lied to me for years!”
“I never lied,” he said softly.
“Lying by omission is still lying. Even if my hand doesn’t hum, it still counts.”
“You’re right. It does. Soraya thought you might be, but I wasn’t sure. She was worried you’d have trouble adjusting to your Roma magic—to being Staven-kom. And I should have told you, but you will have to reconcile your feeling toward it. And you'll have to use it, even if it's just on me."
I sighed. He was right, but it was still uncomfortable. "I hate being pushed and stretched like this. I thought I was the most sexually open and free person there was. But I'm not, am I? I'm as repressed as anyone else."
Amari gave me a sweet, sincere smile. "‘Repressed’ is the last thing I'd call you, Z."
"That's nice. You two are having a moment. Meanwhile, I'm dying of thirst over here."
"Can it, Aerwin. Jade just refilled your mead," Amari said without taking his eyes off me.
The fae man leaned around Amari to look directly at me. "It's none of my business, but I couldn't help but overhear," he said and tapped on his elegantly pointed ear. "We fae have a saying," he said, then recited something in Gaelic and looked at me expectantly.
I looked back blankly.
"Aerwin," Amari said in warning.
He gave Amari a sour look. "It means when you stop growing you start dying."
"That's not a fae saying, that's just a saying," I said.
"And where do you think it came from?" he asked, leaning back into his seat, giving full attention to his mead.
"Shut up. I know," I said to Amari's “He had a point.” face.
Amari and I talked until the second happy hour. We caught up on the minutia of one another’s lives and reveled in each other. Time spent together during work hours felt stolen and exciting, and we ate it up. Other than our yearly trips, and the time directly after my research trip when Amari closed the bar to spend holed up in my condo ordering take out and never leaving the bed, we rarely had more than the evenings after the bar closed to enjoy each other.
He gave me a kiss on the forehead when orders started piling up at the bar. "I've got to help Jade," he said.
I watched him handle antsy patrons and an overwhelmed bartender, plus manage the backlogged kitchen with such ease, I was envious. His grace under pressure was remarkable. Even when a server came through the kitchen door too quickly, colliding with him and spilling tomato soup on his vest, he didn't get frustrated or angry. He took off the ruined silk, blotted what had soaked through to his shirt, and kept working.
But it wasn't long before watching him was boring. Without the benefit of my work to keep me occupied, I realized I didn't know how to act at a bar by myself. I didn't even have a drink to occupy my hands. Should I try to talk to someone? Should I pull out the laptop and pretend to work so I didn't look so awkward?
"Hey you. I just got a weird message from Brody."
Pilar to the rescue!
Smiling at my thought, Pilar sat herself on the stool next to mine and shoved her phone at me.
I didn't read the message. "You'll find out what he means when you go upstairs."
"Zora, I think he wants to—"
"He does."
"Well, I don't know if I'm ready for it."
"And you
won't know if you are until you try. Suck it up and go up there. Be honest and open with him and you'll be fine."
"I'm scared."
"Do it anyway. Communication is key, Pilar." She was still unsure. "It's just sex, Pilar. What's to be scared about?"
She leveled her eyes at me. "Exactly," she said, hopped off the stool, and marched to the stairs. She threw me a knowing look just before she disappeared around the corner.
I wanted to be mad at her for peeking in my head without asking, and backhandedly offering advice about my mother’s profession when she was so unsure about sex herself. But she was right, just like Amari and the fae.
35
"What do you mean you're out of crab-pretzels? This is The Circle; you can't be out of crab meat."
"Well, we are," Jade said, and crossed her arms, daring the practitioner to start something. She'd been fielding cranky, rowdy patrons quite well for two hours, but fatigue was showing itself as surliness. Her straight-cut bangs, normally perfectly in place, were pushed off her forehead, making her short, jet-black bob more comical than striking. The Egyptian-cat eyeliner she always wore was so smudged, it looked like she’d been drinking instead of pouring.
People-watching was like a character catalog for writers. I watched, made notes, and filed away all the interesting things for later use. It wasn't the editing I should have been doing, but it was work, and it kept me from looking awkward and pathetic at the bar.
"You doing OK down there, Zora?" Jade asked when the patron backed off.
"I'm good," I said, meeting her gorgeous green eyes. They weren't mottled like Brody's, Jade's eyes were unabashedly emerald green and her makeup, haircut, even her clothes were all chosen to draw attention to them. "Are you OK?" I asked and nodded in the cranky patron's direction.
She smiled with half her mouth. "It's like this every night. It gets old after a while."
"Why do you do it?"
"Money," she said with a grin and showed off her one-handed bottle-throwing skills. "Let me know if I can get you anything, ‘K?"
"OK," I said, and continued taking notes for future characters.
I was focused on a man who had the strangest gestures in the world when the lights flickered. The ceiling-mounted fixtures and heavy wooden chandelier in the center of the bar all swayed lightly.
Enthralled Magic (The Circle Series Book 1) Page 13