Sharon Karaa - A Familiar Problem (Northern Witches #2)

by Unknown

  “Jeeze you’re highly strung. All I said was you needed to get laid.”

  My eyeballs felt as though they might explode in my head and he back up a step in fear as I glared at him.

  “You are not going anywhere until she gets here,” I snapped.

  “I can’t wait that long! You know I can’t,” he replied, a shocked expression on his face.

  “Well you should have thought of that before you started letting your mouth go then, shouldn’t you?” I snapped back.

  I stormed out of the living room and into the kitchen, pulling the fridge door open with such force a jar of strawberry jam fell out and smashed on to the tiles in front of my feet. I looked down at the mess and decided that right now, my need for alcohol was greater than my need to clean it up and I reached in to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of White Zinfandel from the top shelf then slammed the door shut, unscrewing the cap and drinking heavily straight from the bottle.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as the cold wine hit my stomach then I turned around to see Monty looking at the spilled jam with lust in his eyes.

  “Don’t even dare,” I snapped, grabbing a towel and throwing it over the mess. I bent down and scooped it up and a piece of glass cut through the cloth, slicing into my finger and blood quickly staining the cloth.

  “Damn it,” I yelled, sucking my finger then inspecting the damage. This day couldn’t get any worse. It didn’t look too deep but it was bleeding like crazy. I stood up and grabbed a fresh towel, wrapping it tightly around the cut and then turning to finish getting rid of the jam before Monty lost all control.

  I threw the towel and its contents into the bin then filled the mop bucket with disinfectant and washed the rest of the jam away. He just sat there, watching me with a sad expression on his face.

  “It’s for your own good,” I snapped. “Remember last time?”

  Monty loved jam. In fact, Monty loved anything sweet but the last time he’d eaten strawberry jam he’d got the runs. It had lasted for days. I so wasn’t prepared to go through that again.

  He whimpered sadly as I cleaned out the mop and stored it back in the cupboard.

  “I think you might want to get that out again,” he said and I turned to see a pool of liquid in front of the door.

  “Monty!” I shouted in frustration.

  “It wasn’t my fault. I warned you,” he snapped.

  A key in the door announced the arrival of Becky. About bloody time! I turned just as she stuck her head around the kitchen door with a tentative smile on her face. She was worried on two counts; first and foremost she was in trouble and secondly she never knew who she would run in to when she came over. Becky wasn’t overly fond of my visitors and while she had a key, she would only ever use it when I was home which sort of defeated the objective.

  I glared at her. Becky McAllister. Sex shop sales-woman of the month seven times running and my best friend. Oh, and did I mention, she’s a witch?

  “I’m here,” she sang, still grinning, and then turned to see Monty looking sorry for himself.

  “Come on boy, come to Aunty Becky!”

  Her heels clattered across the tiles as she ran across the kitchen to grab Monty in an arm lock and rub the fur on his neck. He slobbered all over her, jumping up and down in excitement and his little pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  Monty Owens. Age three and a half, one hundred percent Jack Russell and one hundred percent pain in the arse.

  “Talk to me, my boy. Tell Aunty Becky she’s the best aunty in the whole wide world,” she said cuddling him. I shook my head in disgust; she spoke to him like he was a baby.

  “Oh yes, Aunty Becky, you’re definitely the best. Better than the bitch from hell over there. I think she’s pre-menstrual. Never mind, did you bring me a chew stick?” He nuzzled at her pockets and tried to sniff out his treat.

  Becky squealed with delight, cuddling him tight. “You’re right, he can talk!” she said, still laughing. She turned to look at Monty and scratched him behind his ears. I glared at him in disgust. Where the hell did he get this all from? Pre-menstrual? He had no idea!

  “Awe sorry smoochikins, I didn’t know I was coming over today so I haven’t brought any treats.”

  Monty whined pathetically and made with the big, sad eyes as Becky laughed and scrubbed his head.

  “Next time, I’ll bring two, how’s that?”

  Monty recovered quickly and jumped up at her, licking her face.

  When it became apparent their little love-fest wasn’t going to end any time soon, I threw the mop across the floor and it came to rest alongside her.

  “When you two have finished slobbering all over each other, you can clean the bloody mess up!”

  Becky ignored me and continued rolling around the floor with Monty. It would serve her right if she landed in it.

  ***

  “It wasn’t meant to make him talk! It was meant to make him friendly with the nice men who walk their dogs every day,” she said as she finished off the dregs of her coffee and looking at me as though it all made perfect sense.

  “What the hell for? Are you trying to get him shagged as well?” I glared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Don’t be stupid! I read in Cosmo… or it might have been Marie Claire…I can’t remember, anyways, one really popular women’s magazine that two out of ten women met their husbands while walking the dog! He’s an asset we should be using!”

  I slammed myself down into a chair and covered my face with my hands. This was just the latest in a series of escapades Becky had gotten us in to in her quest to solve my little problem. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before I throttled her.

  I’d got drunk one night and admitted I’d never had an orgasm. It had been the single, biggest mistake of my life and if there was a moment in time that you could go back and change something, that would be mine. Since telling her, I’d suffered a wide and varied range of embarrassing incidents as Becky tried to use her craft to solve my problem. I told you she was a witch. I didn’t tell you she was the worst witch in the history of witchcraft. When I felt calm enough, I dropped my hands from my face and looked at her.

  “Becky, just tell me you can reverse it. I don’t think I can cope with one more thing in my house talking to me. It’s getting beyond madness now and I can’t even invite anyone home any more anyway! You’re wasting your time and driving me nuts into the bargain!”

  “Well…theoretically, I should be able to reverse it…” Becky started, tapping a beautifully shaped purple nail against her chin.

  “Do not say ‘should’. Say ‘absolutely’ or ‘in a jiffy’. Do not tell me you can’t reverse this, otherwise you are taking him for his walks every day.”

  “Well it’s definitely doable, but there’s an ingredient I’ve run out of that I need to order online.” She dropped her hand to the table and looked at me. “It might take a day or two to get here, can you cope that long?” her hazel eyes watered while her mouth tried desperately to hold in the laughter I could see bubbling to the surface.

  “This is so not funny! How the hell can I take him out like that? What if he starts talking to the neighbours? He’s not exactly polite in mixed company at the best of times!” I snapped.

  “I don’t know, use your imagination! Pretend you’re a ventriloquist!” Her eyes lit up as an idea came to her. “Hey we could make a killing on the circuit, fancy it?”

  She dodged just in time and the towel went sailing over her head as she laughed.

  She stood up and moved to pick up the bag and coat that she’d dropped in her haste to get in to see Monty. “Look, are you coming now or what? Lunch break is almost over and if we don’t get back in time, you know Nobby’ll dock our wages!”

  Nobby was the manager where we worked. With a nickname like that, it was rather unfortunate he chosen to work in a sex shop. He was a weasel of a man who was absolutely fixated with Becky. Who wouldn’t be? She was a red haired vixen with a k
iller bod, which was another reason she consistently wins salesperson of the month. The men loved her. And I strongly suspected some of the women did too.

  ***

  We rushed in the door with a minute to spare and I clocked Nobby staring at his watch, disappointed. He loved Becky. Me? Not so much. In fact I’d go so far as to say he loathed me and why he ever agreed to hire me in the first place was one of life’s little mysteries. Maybe he thought it would endear him to Becky, who knows, but the man took joy in making my life a living hell. If I didn’t need the money so badly, I would have told him to shove his job where the sun doesn’t shine. Unfortunately, aspiring young writers still need to eat. And pay rent. And feed Monty. So I was stuck here for now.

  Becky smiled widely at the weasel as she tore off her coat, thrusting her breasts out as she struggled to shrug off the coat. It was deliberate, I was sure of it.

  “All present and accounted for Mr. Boss Man!” she shouted across the store then winked at him.

  He smiled at Becky then turned his head to look at me. He glared at me then turned his back as we rushed to the back room to deposit our belongings. I blew him a kiss just to piss him off and he turned his back. Becky dropped her coat and bag the minute we were through the door and I bent to pick them up and put them on a peg. Becky was a complete slob. I shucked off my own coat as Becky adjusted her breasts for maximum effect and pulled her top down slightly to reveal ore cleavage.

  “What? Sex sells!” she said, smiling as she caught me looking at her.

  I rolled my eyes and dived back out to help serve the influx of customers we always seemed to have since Becky and I had taken up positions there. I guess that sort of proved her point as none of it was down to me, it was all Becky. Another one of her misfires. She’d cast a spell on a well-known brand of vibrator and had turned it in to the sex toy equivalent of Robot Cop. Once it had you in its sights, it nailed you. It was so powerful the local council were considering replacing their pneumatic drills with them. Of course, she hadn’t intended to convert the entire brand; she was only aiming for one. For me. Miss Never Had An Orgasm. Result? Inundated with shoppers. Did I buy one? Not on your life. If I get there, it will be because of natural causes, not some souped-up piece of plastic. Besides, you never knew what the side effects were with Becky’s spells. I wouldn’t be surprised to find half the town’s women-folk suddenly came down with lock-jaw. Honestly, you just never knew.

  The craziness calmed down by mid-afternoon. If you ever wondered what the sudden dip in electrical current was around about that time, now you know. We were just putting the kettle on for a well-deserved break when my favourite shopper came in. And by favourite, I mean crazy stalker. I heard the bell tinkle above the door and I just knew. I felt it in my bones, as my gran always says. I stuck my head round the corner of the door and there she was, scanning the shop floor, looking for me. I could hide but it was pointless. She’d mooch about out there, giving all the sales assistants a hard time until I showed up. I groaned.

  “Hi Mabel” I shouted, a rictus grin on my face. Mabel was ninety if she was a day and I sincerely hoped the purchases she made, on an extremely regular basis, weren’t for her. Oh she claimed they were, but really? She’d even taken Robot Cop and she was still walking. Becky and I had bets on it; I reckoned secret shopper, Becky reckoned horny old devil, on the pretext that a healthy sex life led to longevity.

  Mabel turned to me, smiling and her eyes lighting up. About five feet tall, she couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds wet through. In fact I was fairly convinced the fake fur coat she wore was heavier than she was.

  “Jennifer, darling girl, do come out of there and help me choose something nice for Frederick,” she said, waving me out.

  We assumed Frederick was her husband. We’d never met him. I don’t think I would have been able to keep a straight face if we did. I made my way across the store to where she stood, holding out a white negligee with lace-up bodice.

  “Do you do this in red?” she asked as I reached her.

  “Mabel; red? With your hair colour?” Her hair was what could only be described as electric blue. All she needed was a white ribbon tied around her waist and she’d look like a union jack.

  “What about trying it in black?” I asked, holding one up for her inspection.

  “Oh no, dear, that won’t do at all!” she said, pursing her ruby-red lips. “When you get to my age, you’re wearing black more than you should anyway, what with all the funerals. Besides, black makes me look so washed out!”

  I thumbed through the racks and picked up a pink version. “How about this?”

  “I’m not five, dear.”

  Becky came up behind me holding a blue version that completely matched Mabel’s hair. A colour I knew we didn’t stock. I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously.

  “Here you go Mabel; this one’s just the job!” Becky smiled her winning smile. It worked on everyone but Mabel which was another of life’s great mysteries. Everyone was drawn to Becky. She was friendly, cute and funny, while me? I was surly and didn’t relate well to people. Why Mabel had attached herself to me was beyond me.

  Mabel looked at her in disgust then snatched the article of clothing out of Becky’s hands and turned her back on her.

  “Jennifer, how about some more of that nice lubricant? You know? The cherry flavour one you sold me the last time?” She marched across the other side of the store and I turned to look at Becky, my shoulders sagging.

  “Don’t let her monopolise you!” Becky whispered as I grimaced and followed her. When I caught her up, she was balancing precariously, one foot on the edge of the first shelf and reaching up for the lube. What with the high heels and her age, I was seriously worried she was going to land on her arse and end up in hospital. I grabbed a tube of ‘Smooth as Silk’ from the top shelf before she could do herself an injury and handed it to her.

  “Anything else I can get you today?” I asked her as I took her elbow and helped her back down.

  She smiled up at me. “I think I’m done for now!” she said, fishing in her bag for her purse and made her way blindly to the counter as shoppers kindly moved out of her way before she barrelled in to them. One of these days she was going to go flying into one of the displays. I rolled my eyes and followed her, going behind the counter to ring up her purchases.

  “Any plans for tonight?” she asked as I folded her negligee.

  “We’re going out to Sin City tonight, Mabel. You know that new nightclub on Grey Street? We’re meeting some friends. Fancy coming?” said Becky as she leaned on the counter, sucking a lolly. She had a bucket load of them; they were her props, as she liked to call them. Working on the same principal as you shouldn’t shop for food when you’re hungry, Becky went out of her way to tantalise our customers. To her credit, it worked. With everyone except Mabel, that is.

  Mabel glared at her then turned to me, smiling sweetly and showing a dash of pink lipstick she’d managed to get on her teeth.

  “Night clubs really aren’t my thing, dear. You know me, I like to be in bed by eight, if you catch my drift!” She winked at me lewdly as I hurried to ram the purchases in to the bag and hand it to her.

  “That’ll be thirty five pounds in total, Mabel” I said, handing her the bag. She handed over the money, making sure she made contact with my hand and holding on to the bank notes slightly longer than was necessary in an attempt to maintain contact as long as possible. A shiver went up my spine as I pulled hard to take the money from her. She smiled at me as I looked at her, feeling the colour drain from my face in shock. I finally managed to break free then turned to the till to ring in the purchases as fast as I could, handing across the receipt by the very corner.

  “Thank you dear, do enjoy yourself tonight, won’t you?” she said as she turned and made her way unsteadily out of the door, rocking back and forth on her high heels like a sailor in high winds. Becky and I stared after her, Becky still sucking viciously on her treat.

  B
ecky pulled her lolly from her mouth and it made a popping sound.

  “Now that was weird” she said, watching as Mabel did a two-step with a customer trying to make her way in. “Do you think she might be gay?”

  I pushed her elbow off the counter and she almost smacked herself in the face with the lolly as she laughed at me.

  ***

  “I don’t know why you need all that cack on your face anyway…” said Monty, watching me as I applied my lipstick, “…and that dress is far too short!”

  I turned and pointed the lipstick at him. “Listen, buster, you’re a dog; things work differently in the human world so keep your opinions to yourself!”

  “Yeah well, if you took a leaf out of my book then your life would be a lot less complicated! All this lovey-dovey mush! Pah! Sniff the crotch! You can tell straight away if she’s up for it! None of this buying flowers and three date bullshit!”

  I turned in my chair to look at him, half laughing and half confused. “That’s a sure fire way to get myself arrested! And how do you know about three dates?”

  “I’m a dog, not a dunce!” He huffed and waddled out of the room. I blanched as I realised he’d probably picked up on girly conversations I’d had with Becky. Did that mean he knew about the Big O crisis? I felt queasy! I made a mental note not to have personal conversations in front of him anymore.

  I turned back to the mirror and spritzed myself with perfume, gazing critically at my reflection. Maybe he was right; maybe I was wearing too much makeup. Truth be told, I wasn’t much into the girly stuff and didn’t wear it on a regular basis. Still, no time to worry about it now, Becky would be here any minute.

  I stood up and smoothed down the front of my black mini dress, trying to flatten out the little tummy I seemed to be getting lately. I had to knock it off with the chocolate, or start jogging again. I tried sucking it in. It went from a molehill to a smaller molehill but it was still there. I whipped the dress off and pulled a body shaper out of the drawer. Late or not, I wasn’t going out looking like I was five months’ pregnant.