Big Witch Energy

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Big Witch Energy Page 20

by Kelly Jamieson


  When that’s done, we stroll the street to look at more of the vendors. As we approach one, a woman looks up. “Trace.”

  His hand tenses in mine. “Parminder. Hi.”

  She narrows her eyes at us, her gaze traveling to me, down to our clasped hands, and then back to Trace. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah. How are you?”

  “I’m great. You remember Kay?”

  The woman next to Parminder raises a hand in greeting.

  “Yeah. Hi, Kay. And this is Romy.” He releases my hand and shifts away from me.

  I force a smile. “Nice to meet you both. Are you enjoying the fair?”

  “It’s so much fun,” Parminder says. “We were here last year, weren’t we, Trace?”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s right.”

  I keep my smile in place. Parminder’s eyes are shooting sharp, pointy barbs at both Trace and me. The air around us vibrates with tension.

  Parminder’s hand goes to a silver chain at her throat. “I’m still wearing the necklace you bought me that night.” She lifts it so that the heart charm dangles and glints.

  Trace’s smile is stiff. “Oh yeah. Well. We need to move on. Nice seeing you both.”

  I scamper after him as he hoofs it down the street. “Nice to meet you!” I call.

  He’s marching so fast I can barely keep up. “Hey. Slow down.”

  He makes a turn between two tents and stops.

  “Old girlfriend?” I guess.

  “Sort of.” He grimaces. “We didn’t go out very long.”

  “She’s really beautiful.”

  He says nothing.

  “You bought her jewelry.”

  “That was a mistake. She thought things were serious.”

  “But you don’t do relationships.”

  “Right.” He bites out the word. Then he sighs. “Sorry. That was awkward.”

  “No need to apologize. I bet there are lots of women out there you dated.” And they’re probably all unhappy and bitter.

  Is that going to be me? Ugh.

  “A few, I guess. Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.” Clearly he doesn’t want to run into Parminder again. To be honest, I’m with him on that. I don’t need to be reminded that Trace doesn’t want a relationship… with anyone.

  21

  Trace

  “You did what?”

  I’m in Joe’s office.

  “I offered Romy a job.”

  I blink. “Doing what?”

  “Working on our website and our branding.”

  “You didn’t even think we needed a website.”

  “I guess I’ve realized that we need to get with the times.” He grimaces. “We can’t stay stuck in the past.”

  “Huh.” When I told him that a few years ago, he didn’t seem convinced.

  “She’s thinking about it. But it makes sense.”

  “I guess. Sure.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about this. I wasn’t happy about the family rule that I had to work five years somewhere else, but now I can see how valuable the experience is and how it opened my mind to different ways of doing things.

  But Romy arrives, and he offers her a job after two minutes.

  Okay, it’s been longer than that. And I guess she’s put in her time elsewhere, although working for an insurance company is a little different than a construction company, and the work she does there is a far cry from what she’d do here.

  And… it would be great for her. Never mind my stupid self-doubts. She’d love working here.

  We move on to talking about an issue with a remodel. “We’re going to end up behind schedule,” I tell Joe. “We’ve got everything framed in, but the clients are saying that’s not what they wanted. We showed them the blueprints, and they were good with it.”

  Joe sighs. “People have a hard time imagining what it will look like from the blueprints.”

  “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been telling you. We need to start using 3D modeling. It’s expensive, but it saves money when it comes to situations like this where we now have to tear things down and start again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay, let me think about that.”

  Back in my own office, I sit down and stare at my dark computer screen.

  I don’t have a problem with Romy working here. Okay, I do. Fuck. I love the idea of seeing her every day, but what happens when this all goes to shit? That’s going to be even more awkward than we thought.

  Running into Parminder that night at the street fair only reinforced how this could turn out. I’ve never been able to stay friends with the women I date; when I end things, they seem to hate me. I’m sure that’ll be true with Romy too.

  Jesus fuck. What a mess.

  I lean my head into my hands for a moment. The biggest problem with this whole scenario? I actually care about Romy. She’s a sweetheart with a fun, dirty side. She’s smart and kind. I admire her strong sense of justice and fairness. She’s beautiful. Already the whole family loves her. She lacks confidence in her witch abilities, but that will come with time.

  But she’s going to end up hating me like every other woman I’ve been with.

  Later, she comes over to my place for dinner, which we make together, and I use a little witchcraft in the kitchen to make sure our meal is delicious. I consider it a learning opportunity for Romy, who takes in everything I do with earnest attention. I even let her conjure up the garlic-rosemary butter that will go on the pan-seared steaks. We produce perfect creamy mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus.

  “This is fun,” she says, tasting the potatoes.

  It… actually is. I forgot the fun of magic. Teaching Romy has rekindled that in me. I needed this in my life.

  We sit down to eat at the island.

  “Did Joe tell you about offering me a job?” Romy asks as she cuts into her medium-rare steak.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Quitting your job is a big decision.”

  “It is. Even though I’m not entirely happy anymore, it’s tough. I’ve learned a lot there. My life is easy and predictable. I have good friends at work.” She sighs. “It’s so funny, all the times I’ve wished I could get out of there and now I can, I’m thinking of all the reasons not to. I would kind of miss it.”

  “Those are all valid considerations.” I’m trying hard not to influence her.

  “So are being creative and learning new things.”

  “True.”

  “I’d have more time to work on my Etsy designs. And I’m making money doing that. And being part of the Candler business is kind of intriguing.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not sure.” She bends her head. “It’s not money. I could find another software job if I had to, with my experience. If things didn’t work out at Dream Homes.”

  “Of course you could.”

  “I guess…” She pokes her fork into her potatoes. “I guess I’m afraid I won’t do a good job. Doing this kind of work is new for me. And it’s bad enough letting clients down, but when it’s your family… that you’ve only just found…”

  I stay silent. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I don’t push very hard on the changes I think we should make at Dream Homes, because they’re my “family,” the only family I have now. I don’t want to get seriously involved with Romy for exactly that reason—because of my family. What kind of advice can I give her? None. I’m afraid of letting down my family too.

  “I keep thinking about what you said to me that night at the Singing Horse,” she continues. “The night you all told me about being witches.”

  I nod slowly.

  “You asked me if I was brave enough.”

  I swallow. “Right.”

  “You told me to have the courage to open my mind to the possibilities.”

  I nod slowly.

  “So… I think that’s what I should do. Again.”

  One corner of my mouth
lifts in a reluctant smile. “Brave girl.”

  “I’m trying.” She meets my eyes. “But I’m scared.”

  “Yeah.” I touch my fingertips to her soft cheek. “I get it. Being scared is a reaction. But being brave is a decision.”

  Her eyes widen and soften. “Yes. You’re right. Oh, Trace, I—” She stops.

  “What, sweet thing?”

  She blinks rapidly, staring at me. Then she turns back to her dinner. “Thank you. You always help me figure things out.”

  “Of course.” I pick up a piece of steak on my fork. “After dinner, I’ll help you figure out whether you like sixty-nine better on your back or on top.”

  After a beat, she lets out a shocked laugh. “Trace!” She pauses. “Maybe I like it on my side.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Well, then. Eat up.”

  The sex is getting better and hotter… and I’m getting more and more conflicted. If I thought my obsession with Romy would lessen when we started fucking around, holy shit was I wrong. I want her all the goddamn time. But the more we do it, the more I feel like I’m sliding down a slippery slope into trouble with a capital T.

  I feel like she strips everything away, all the protective barriers I’ve constructed over the years, leaving me naked. Vulnerable. It’s fucking terrifying.

  But we keep seeing each other, and not just for sex—we’ve gone to the street fair, we’ve gone shopping, we’ve gone to movies. We’re pretty much “dating”—except nobody else knows about it but us. And Garrett. And that’s getting harder and harder too. One of us is going to say something, or we’re going to slip up and start making out at a family dinner. And then the feces will hit the rotating blades.

  And the longer it goes on, the worse it’s going to be. I feel like I should go to Joe and ask for permission to date his daughter—but it’s way too late for that. And that’s stupid anyway. Who does that in this day and age?

  I worry that Romy’s going to get hurt and there’s going to be a lot of collateral damage. It’s starting to eat away at me inside. We haven’t actually lied to anyone, but not telling people what’s happening is basically the same thing.

  So instead of letting her stay over, which she has a couple of times, I take her home, making up a bullshit story about an early-morning job site visit. She pouts in a cute way but understands and gives me a sizzling good-night kiss when I drop her off. Which makes me feel even shittier.

  The next day, I go for a beer with Garrett after work. We meet at the Hearty Cow, which is hopping with happy-hour patrons crowded around the bar. We order beers and carry them to a small table against the wall.

  “I’m hungry,” I say, grabbing a menu card. I read the selections and scowl. “Never mind.”

  “How’s work?”

  I rub my forehead. “Ugh.”

  “That bad?”

  “No. Business is good.”

  “Uh-huh.” He eyes me. “Who shat in your shreddies this morning?”

  I roll my eyes. “Nobody.”

  “Then why the grumpy face if business is good?”

  “Joe offered Romy a job.”

  “What?” His eyebrows climb to his hairline. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Doing website and computer stuff. She likes that shit.”

  “Wow. But… why is that making you salty?”

  I look down at the table and study the wood grain. It’s oak. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.” He lifts his hand in a beckoning gesture. “Spill it.”

  “I’m fuckstrated.”

  Garrett laughs. “Not getting any?”

  “Oh yeah. Getting lots. And it’s amazing. I think I need to end it.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I always do,” I say impatiently. “Better sooner than later.”

  “Huh.” He falls silent, tapping his chin.

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to see things from your point of view. But I can’t get my head that far up my ass.”

  I bark out a laugh.

  Garrett’s lips twitch. “Seriously. Why do you always do that? That’s the question.”

  “I’m not worth it,” I say roughly. “And even more so now. The Board of Elders is pissed at me for what happened with Romy. Ziggy even threatened to strip me of my powers. Fuck.” I shake my head. “So much for ever being able to bring my folks back.”

  He narrows his eyes. “So you are still on that.”

  I sigh. “I still think about it, yeah.”

  “Man. You need to move on.”

  “I have. Mostly.”

  “So what does that have to do with Romy?”

  “As if I wasn’t a big enough loser before, now I’m on the outs with the elders. Fuck.”

  “They’re not going to strip you of your powers. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I think so, but you never know.”

  “Do you care about Romy?”

  I clench my teeth. “Sure.”

  “Does she care about you?”

  “I think so. I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Frowning, I look at him across the table.

  “Are you afraid you’re going to get hurt?”

  My chin jerks down. I don’t get hurt. I’m always the one who ends things. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” I confess, dropping my gaze again.

  “But you want to end things.” He picks up his cell phone and holds it in the air. “Balls just called, they’d like to know if you’d like a pair.”

  I scowl at him.

  “Come on, dude. Why would you do that if things are going well? For once in your life, give things a chance.” He lifts one shoulder. “I can tell you this—you’ve been a lot happier since she came along.”

  I frown.

  “Maybe it won’t work out with her,” he adds. “But… maybe it will. Maybe it’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “I thought you’d give me some advice about spells that could break things off gently.”

  He barks out a laugh. “I could. If you wanted that, you’d figure that out on your own. Come on, pull your head out of your ass. The view might surprise you.”

  * * *

  ROMY

  * * *

  The past two weeks have been eventful. I gave my notice at Pinnacle. Friday, all my coworkers took me out for dinner and said nice things about me. Yesterday I started work at Dream Homes. Trace and I have spent less time together than usual, and I’m getting anxious about it.

  Today is my second meeting with the Board of Elders. And I’m even more nervous than I was for the first one because of what’s going to happen.

  Felise, Magan, and I haven’t said anything to anyone else in the family about our plan. Not even Trace. And I’m freaking out about how this is going to go. This is my family, and I’m really growing to love them all. I feel like I’m risking everything by doing this. I’ve thought I should just keep a low profile, go with the flow, study hard. But I’ve started something that I can’t back out of now, and deep inside I do feel that sense of injustice that angers me so much.

  If I fail, the board will probably have some kind of a party to tell the coven they told them so and I’ll be an outcast and Joe and Cassie will disown me and Trace will reject me and I’ll be forced to panhandle for change on the streets because I don’t have a job.

  Okay. Deep breath. Let’s not catastrophize, Romy.

  I arrive at the Sears Tower about fifteen minutes before my meeting. The lobby is buzzing with all the women gathered there. I spot Magan and head toward her, wiping my palms on my skirt.

  “Hi! You look amazing.”

  I glance down at my black pencil skirt, white pin-tucked blouse and butterscotch-colored cardigan. I look like I’m going to a job interview for a new software developer job. Not what I would have thought of as witch attire. “Thanks.” I shoot a nervous look aro
und the lobby. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”

  She grins. “I know! Isn’t it great?”

  I thought there might be ten, or twenty, stretching it. There have to be more than fifty here. It’s great but also nerve-racking. It’s hard enough speaking to the board, but with this big crowd as well, my anxiety ratchets up.

  Felise herds us all into a corner and gives us a little pep talk, although we all know the plan. We start crowding into elevator cars to ride to the seventy-seventh floor. Last time I was here, I didn’t realize that the number seven is related to lunar energy and connected to the moon, femininity, intuition and wisdom. This has to be a positive sign.

  The elevators let us off directly into the reception area of Cox & Ball Attorneys. I head to the desk to speak to the receptionist, who is eyeing all of us openmouthed.

  “Good afternoon.” I smile. “I’m Romy Larson, here to see Ziggy Cox.” I glance over my shoulder. “I have some people with me for the meeting.”

  She blinks rapidly. “Yes, I see that. You can… Well, there aren’t seats for all of you.”

  “No problem.” I beam at her.

  “I’ll let Mr. Cox know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  I wander back to the group. Others in the waiting area are giving us curious looks.

  My insides are twisted into knots, and I keep biting my lips as I pace a few steps back and forth.

  Moments later, Ziggy Cox appears through a door. He walks straight toward me. “Ms. Larson. What is this?” He gestures at the crowd behind me. Another elevator car of late arrivals has just unloaded, filling the waiting room.

  “Some friends.” I smile, hoping for confident businesswoman rather than nervous squirrel. “They want to join us today.”

  He draws in a breath, looks around, then says, “Fine. Come this way.”

  He leads me to the door, and the women all fall in behind us. We walk down a hall flanked with offices. At the end is an unmarked mahogany door, which he opens, and we step into the enormous boardroom.

 

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