Witches Just Want to Have Fun

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Then I went to Barbie Conner’s house,” I admitted. “I wanted to ask her a few questions.”

  “And how is she?”

  “Soused.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Her face doesn’t move either,” I added. “This island needs a recovery group for those who overindulge in Botox. She could be a founding member.”

  Booker snorted. “She’s looked exactly the same for years. I don’t even notice now.”

  “Yeah, well, I think the only thing she notices is herself,” I lamented, momentarily wondering if I should mention the flash to Booker and then immediately deciding against it. “She doesn’t even seem to care that Ashley is in jail. She did say that she doesn’t think Ashley would murder someone over you. Apparently you don’t make enough money to concern Barbie.”

  “Ah, I dodged a bullet.” Booker’s eyes gleamed. “You look offended on my behalf because of that. Don’t get yourself worked up. That’s simply how Barbie is. I don’t think she means anything by it.”

  “It’s offensive.”

  “I’m not offended.”

  “She made digs about Galen, too.”

  “Ah, now we’re getting to the root of it.” Booker took another bite of his apple. “I know you’re upset because you think I was using those women – perhaps even playing one against the other – but that’s not what was going down.”

  “I don’t think that’s what was going down for you,” I countered. “I think those girls were head-over-heels for you whether they wanted to admit it or not.”

  “Then that was their mistake.”

  “Because you’re not the relationship sort?”

  “Basically.” Booker bobbed his head. “I am my own person and I’m content with my life right now. That doesn’t mean I don’t want human companionship from time to time. I try to be forthright about my needs when that happens. If someone happens to get hurt in the process … well, that is not my intent.”

  I could only sigh. “You just don’t understand. I wish you did, but I’m starting to think you’re incapable.”

  “Oh, I understand. But I choose to live my life a different way.”

  “Well, what’s done is done.” I squared my shoulders. “Barbie wasn’t much help. She let a few things slip. I’m going to have to own up to interviewing her without Galen. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because Galen is so busy beating himself up over you disappearing without anyone noticing that he’ll probably forgive just about anything you did,” Booker replied. “I mean … now might be a good time to rob a bank. He feels so guilty you’d get away with it. He’s quite smitten with you.”

  Smitten? “I don’t think he would like you using that word.”

  “Why do you think I picked it?” Booker turned mischievous. “I’ve never seen him this worked up over a woman. I kind of want to torture him over it because … well, that’s what we do. But I won’t, because that would hurt you and I’m genuinely fond of you.”

  “Even though I thought you were a murderer?”

  Booker sobered. “We’ve already talked about that. You were in a bad position. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

  “You could have been killed.”

  “Not likely.”

  “But Ned was a murderer,” I persisted. “You got lucky that he was in such a hurry to get to me that he didn’t try to finish you off.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that.” Booker was so sincere it caused me to be suspicious.

  “Why don’t I have to worry about that? I mean … you can die, right?” I had no idea what he was, but I was becoming more certain that he wasn’t a normal human being. “You’re not like … immortal, are you?”

  “You mean like the guys on Highlander?” Booker’s smile was back. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not immortal and I don’t run around chopping off heads with swords. As for the rest … it’s really not important.”

  I thought about pushing him, but now didn’t seem the time. “I should probably get going. I need to find Galen.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll find you.”

  I was almost positive that was true.

  19

  Nineteen

  I needed time to think.

  I was happy to leave Booker and his bad attitude behind. Instead of seeking out Galen – which I knew would be the mature thing to do – I decided to slink away and let him find me. I had things to ponder, and I couldn’t do that with an audience.

  I don’t know what possessed me to return to the cemetery. I felt like an idiot for doing it and yet that didn’t deter me. It was as if I were Harry Potter in the first book when he found the mirror that let him see his heart’s desire. It just so happened that his heart’s desire was to know the parents who died when he was an infant. It wasn’t quite the same for me, but it wasn’t all that different either.

  I sat on the ground near the window and put my back to a broad tree. I cast a quick look to my right, to the foliage that made me nervous the previous day, but unlike before, I was fairly certain I was alone. That was for the best.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled heavily, resting my hands on my knees. I wanted to breathe myself into a flow state, allow my mind to float on a cloud and essentially re-enter the vision I thought I’d had at Barbie Conner’s house. It was a technique I remembered reading about when one of my friends in Michigan insisted I start yoga. I found the stretching and contorting in a hot room unbearable. I liked the idea of a flow state very much, though, and I was determined to get a better look at the earlier flashes. Somehow I knew they were important.

  At first my mind was too busy to allow me to summon the vision a second time. I kept wondering about Booker and what he was … and Galen and how he would react when I saw him … and May and why she wouldn’t answer questions. My brain was a mess.

  I was determined to make it happen, though, so I focused. Galen believed I could figure out everything that was happening on my own. I was hopeful he was right because otherwise … well, otherwise I had no idea what to do.

  I concentrated on my breathing to the exclusion of everything else, shutting out the noises that surrounded me and focused on inhaling and exhaling.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  Before I even realized what was happening I slipped into the vision and allowed it to take over. It was loud, ugly and emotionally brutal … and yet I sat through it all the same. I heard the voices as they swirled, saw the faces, but I was a passive participant rather than an active member of the family.

  “You’re late,” Barbie spat, leaning against the counter as she looked Ashley up and down. It wasn’t the same Ashley I’d met a few days before, but rather a younger model. Given the length of her skirt, I figured she had to be in high school … and probably very popular with the boys. “How many times have I told you not to be late when I have things scheduled with the girls?”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you care what I do … whether you’re hanging with your drunken friends or not. I don’t need you here when I get home. Just … go.” Ashley made impatient shooing motions with her hands. “Seriously, go away.”

  Barbie grabbed a glass of wine from the counter. “Maybe I simply enjoy spending time with you. Did you ever consider that?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good because I never enjoy spending time with you,” Barbie spat, causing me to inadvertently cringe. I couldn’t imagine a more hateful woman. She had no redeeming qualities as far as I could tell. “Why are you so late?” she demanded, clearly opting to change the subject rather than continue the fight. “Did you have detention again?”

  Ashley shot her mother a withering look. “I haven’t had detention since eighth grade and you know it. That was years ago and one freaking time.”


  “Then where were you?”

  “I was at the coffee shop on Main Street.” Ashley averted her eyes and focused on the leather backpack she carried. It was much trendier than anything I owned at the same age. That was probably her mother’s doing. Barbie would want Ashley to dress a certain way even if she was a terrible mother because Barbie obviously believed Ashley’s appearance reflected on her.

  “What were you doing at the coffee shop?”

  “Um … drinking coffee.”

  Barbie narrowed her green eyes. She wasn’t nearly as Botoxed then as she was now. She looked far more natural … and evil … in the past. It made me shudder.

  “And who were you drinking coffee with?” Barbie challenged. “Was it a boy? Wait … do you have a crush on a boy?”

  “Oh, I hate it when you pretend to care about my life,” Ashley complained, adopting a whining tone that set my teeth on edge. “Why can’t you crawl in your bottle like you usually do and ignore me?”

  “Because that’s what you want and I don’t care to make you happy,” Barbie drawled. “Now … talk. Who were you with at the coffee shop? Don’t tell me it was that Carpenter boy. He’s not going to amount to anything and his family has no money to leave him. He’s not a suitable match.”

  “I wasn’t with him.” Ashley was mortified. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re being evasive.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are so.”

  “I am not.”

  “Then who were you with?” Barbie clearly scented blood in the water and started circling. “If you were really minding your own business and not doing anything to be ashamed about you would’ve already told me to shut me up. Now I know you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying!” Ashley’s nostrils flared. “I wasn’t with a boy. You don’t need to get all worked up for nothing because whatever you’re thinking … well, didn’t happen.”

  “Fine.” Barbie held up her hands, the one gripping the wine glass splashing a little on the floor.. “Tell me who you were with and I’ll leave it alone. I’m due to head off anyway.”

  Ashley blinked several times before answering. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “But … .” Ashley heaved out a sigh. “Fine. I was with Trish Doyle, if you must know.”

  Barbie’s expression twisted into something hateful. “Oh, geez! Please tell me you’re not entertaining the idea of becoming a lesbian. That is not going to happen on my watch, so you shove that thought out of your head right now.”

  “I’m not a lesbian,” Ashley fired back. “Why do you always go there? It’s so … stupid. It’s possible to be friends with a woman and not be a lesbian.”

  “I know that. I have friends and I’m not even close to being a lesbian.”

  “You have horrible women you like to gossip and drink with,” Ashley corrected. “You don’t have friends.”

  “And Trish Doyle is not your friend,” Barbie fired back. “You only started hanging around with her to irritate your father – something I happily supported at the time – but now it’s getting ridiculous. She’s low class and beneath you.”

  Ashley glowered at her mother. “She’s funny and I like her. I don’t care what you say. We’re friends.”

  “You’re not friends.”

  “We are!” Ashley slapped her hands on the counter. “We’re friends and I like her. I don’t, however, like you.”

  “Oh, well, that feeling is mutual,” Barbie drawled. “There are a lot of things I wish I could take back in this life, but having you is the biggest.”

  Ashley snorted and turned on her heel. “Have another drink, mother. I don’t think you’re sloshed enough and it’s almost five. You’re behind schedule.”

  She breezed through the kitchen door, barely acknowledging her father as he walked into the room. Henry Conner merely raised an eyebrow when he saw his only child storming out of the room. He loosened his tie and regarded his wife with a cynical look.

  “You look more sober than usual.”

  “Oh, your wit astounds me, Henry,” Barbie supplied, rolling her eyes. “I think you missed your calling. You should’ve been a comedian.”

  “And give up all this?” Henry made a face as he shuffled to the small bar cart and searched through the contents until he came up with a bottle of whiskey. “I thought you had plans tonight.”

  “I’m leaving in a few minutes.” Barbie sobered. “We have to talk about Ashley before I go.”

  “Why? She seemed perfectly normal to me. She’s clearly angry with you and will spend the night pouting in her room. What’s different about that?”

  “She’s spending too much time with the Doyle girl.” Barbie lowered her voice. “You know that’s not a good idea.”

  Henry poured two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. “I know it’s not a good idea, but there’s no talking her out of it. What do you want me to do?”

  “Forbid her from hanging out with Trish Doyle.”

  “And when that has the opposite effect and she only spends more time with Trish, what do you want me to do then?” Henry challenged. “She’s a teenager, Barbie. She’s going to do whatever it is that she thinks will irritate us most. That’s how teenagers are wired.”

  “Then you’ve got to give her something to make her not want to spend time with Trish,” Barbie shot back. “Raise her allowance … or buy her a new car. Bribe her until she doesn’t want to spend time with that girl.”

  “I’m not going to bribe our daughter.” Henry took a long swig of his whiskey. “She can’t be bought. She’s not you.”

  “Everyone can be bought,” Barbie sneered. “Ashley is no different. She can’t keep hanging around that girl. It’s too dangerous. The truth might come out and then what? Where will we be if that happens?”

  Henry didn’t immediately answer, instead shrugging as he finished off the whiskey. When he finally did speak, he sounded defeated. “Who knows? Maybe we’d all be better off if the truth came out.”

  “You know that isn’t true.”

  “I don’t know that.” Henry placed the empty glass in the sink. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “And that’s why you’re a complete waste of space,” Barbie sneered. “Fine. If you won’t handle it, I will.”

  Henry balked. “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t you worry about it. I’ve got everything under control.”

  “HADLEY?”

  A worried voice from the real world jolted me out of the vision. I was fairly certain that was all there was to see, but I wouldn’t have minded hanging around for another minute or two … if only to see if I might be able to smack Barbie Conner around a bit for being such a horrible person. Ah, well, it was too late now.

  I shielded my eyes from the blinding sun as I focused on the figure moving closer. I wasn’t surprised when I realized it was Galen. I knew he’d find me. He always did.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” Galen replied, worry flitting across his handsome features as he dropped down to sit next to me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” It was the truth. Kind of. “How did you know where I’d be?”

  “Booker mentioned seeing you downtown. He said you looked … upset. I thought maybe you’d end up here so I gave it a shot.”

  “Oh, well … .”

  Galen gripped my hand, cutting off whatever I was about to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you take off earlier. I didn’t mean to get so wrapped up with Booker that I ignored you. That seriously is the last thing I wanted.”

  He was so earnest my heart went out to him even though I remained mildly agitated. “I know. What’s your deal with him? Why do you guys hate each other so much?”

  “We don’t hate each other. Did you not hear the part of the story about how Booker sought me out to tell me he ran into you?”

  “I figured he did that to mess with you.
”

  “He did. He was also worried. He said you were pale and upset. Then he told me you talked to Barbie Conner, and I figured that was probably normal for anyone who spends time with that hateful woman.”

  “Ha, ha.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “She’s not very nice.”

  “If you’d waited for me I could’ve told you that.”

  “I was mad at you at the time.”

  “I figured.” He picked up my hand and flipped it over so he could trace his fingers over my palm. “You still should’ve waited for me. It’s hard to conduct an official interview when you don’t have authorization.”

  “I thought you were my sidekick.”

  Galen snorted. “Yes, well, you still should’ve waited for me. Barbie is a lush, so I’m not too worried about it. She probably won’t even remember you were there. Did she tell you anything?”

  “Not much, but … .” I broke off and bit my bottom lip, unsure.

  “What?” Galen was gentle as he prodded. “What happened?”

  I told him about the vision, including the small exercise I conducted to explore further when I arrived at the cemetery. When I finished, he was impressed, which wasn’t the reaction I expected. “I thought you would be angry.”

  “Why? Because you’re learning to control your powers?”

  “Well, no,” I hedged. “More because I questioned Barbie without you being present. You haven’t yelled about that at all. Are you feeling okay?”

  Galen barked out a laugh. “I’m feeling fine. I already said there’s no reason to be angry. Barbie won’t remember you were there. I doubt she has information to share anyway. She hasn’t even bothered to visit Ashley in jail.”

  The news didn’t surprise me. “Ashley turned out a lot better than she should have given the lack of parental interest she was dealing with. Still, what do you make about the last part of the vision? The part about the secret?”

  Galen shrugged. “I don’t know. There have been so many rumors about the Conners and Doyles over the years that it’s hard to fathom which rumor it could be. You said Ashley looked like a teenager in the vision, right?”