It was very like her mother to have noted the exact day, Kera thought. “Yes. As in, yes, it was a week ago. And he’s not an old flame, he’s an old classmate.”
“He looked you up,” her mother pointed out.
“He came into the bar. That’s not the same.”
“Kera, I’m not trying to pester you, and I’m sure you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you can’t fool me. I’m your mother, and I can hear the dejection in your voice—”
“Mom…” Kera sank her head into her free hand.
“—and I bet you’re doing that thing with your lip,” her mother finished.
“What thing?” Kera picked her head up, her fingers fumbling around her mouth, trying to figure out what her lips were doing. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“Don’t worry about it, dear. But maybe it is time to consider working somewhere you’re more likely to meet a higher caliber of man. Cleaning up after other people’s drunken escapades sets a bad precedent as to what you’re willing to put up with from them, after all. And men who hit on barmaids usually don’t amount to much. I’ve seen it happen to friends of mine. You’re far too smart for that. It’s not who you were meant to be, Kera Lynn.”
The younger woman paused, momentarily amazed at her mother’s ability to bring either of Kera’s main perceived failures—lack of a serious relationship and lack of a serious job—around to the other one.
It was remarkable.
“You do know,” Kera said in falsely pleasant tones, “that I hate my middle name, right? Unlike this mysterious lip thing, I’m positive I’ve mentioned that before.”
“Hate it all you want,” her mother said, unperturbed. “It’s on your birth certificate, and it’s part of who you are. Besides, everyone is supposed to hate their middle name.”
Kera stood up and did a mild stretching routine while she spoke. “Yours is Amber. How is that bad? I could have dealt with Amber.”
“I’m not everyone, I’m special.” Her mother laughed. “Face it, dear, I’m older and have way more experience than you do at verbal sparring. You have no chance, you realize.”
“Weird,” Kera commented. “I never thought you’d be the one to admit how much older you are than I am.”
“Not by that much,” her mother said, nettled, “although I will point out that I gave up some of my prime years to chase you little terrors all over the lawn at that country home.”
“I thought you loved that lawn,” Kera pointed out.
Her mother laughed again. “I did, aesthetically speaking. It was nice to look at. The practice was another matter entirely. Do you know how many bugs nested in that grass? It makes me shudder to think about it.”
Kera saw an opening to score a point. “Glad I don’t have to deal with the hassles of a lawn, then. I’m doing great where I am.”
“Nonsense,” her mom retorted. “You’re living in a warehouse, darling, and I’m sure you have no plans to make it a long-term thing. You just wouldn’t be happy.”
You mean you wouldn’t be happy. Kera gritted her teeth. It was mostly fun and games when it came to arguing with her mother, but every now and again, the woman managed to get under her skin.
“I’m happy right now,” Kera said carefully.
“Yes, maybe for now,” Mrs. MacDonagh warned, “but if you could have any career and living arrangements you wanted, would they be what you have now? If the answer is no, you’re selling yourself short, which means I’m right.”
Kera decided it was too early to deal with this shit. She rubbed her forehead. “Okay,” she said with a sigh, “fine. You win, Mom. Good job. I’ll update you soon on all the things I’m required to do to meet your definition of happiness.”
“You know that wasn’t what I said, Kera.” But the woman knew better than to push it after the tone Kera had just used. “You’re going to do great things, sweetie, I know it. I’m just trying to help you get there. Take care.”
“Yeah. Bye.” She hung up, planted the phone on her nightstand, and blew upward from her lower lip, the puff of air blasting a disheveled strand of black hair away from her face.
Parents, she thought morosely as she ambled to the shower. It wasn’t that her mother was a bad parent, but nothing Kera did or said seemed to have any impact on the woman’s certainty that she and she alone knew what would make Kera happy.
Maybe Kera didn’t want to make all the right decisions. Maybe that path looked like a giant trap, and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want her mother to say something like, “Everyone feels that way at your age.”
“Stop trying to get me to skip ahead,” she muttered uselessly as she shampooed her hair. Her mother couldn’t hear her, and even if she could, Kera’s protest would change nothing.
Having given up on sleep, she got dressed and ate half a tub of peanut butter on a similarly insane amount of toast. When that was done, she looked at the corner and sighed.
She really should get that workout gear up. The magic had given her a false sense of her strength and speed, and even if she didn’t intend to use it that way again, she wanted to know she could get out of a bad situation without using magic.
Plus, if her mother was going to keep calling this often, Kera was going to need to hit a punching bag on a regular basis.
She shouldn’t have showered until she got everything set up. Kera put on her work shirt and began hauling things around, hopping up on chairs and oiling chains and bench joints and smashing her fingers more than once.
She was good at all the tasks relating to Zee, but she could do those from muscle memory. This was just hauling around huge and heavy things. Some of them were as big as she was. By the time she was done, she couldn’t tell if it looked good. All she wanted was another shower. She rinsed off, put on new clothes, and contemplated whether she should try to do a load of laundry before work.
There was a knock on the door, and she frowned at it before heading over to look out.
Don’t be Mom, don’t be Mom, don’t be Mom…
Luckily, it wasn’t. “Sam,” Kera said, surprised. “What brings you this way?”
There was just enough time for a spike of worry, but he blushed and held up a square box wrapped in a thick cloth. “I brought you some soup,” he explained. “It’s from my mom. She feels better today.”
Kera closed her eyes, relief pulsing through her. “I’m happy to hear that...and thanks. Come in, and just set the soup on the table there.”
Sam obeyed, then began unwrapping the package. The girl saw with mounting curiosity that in addition to a sealed plastic dish of soup, there was another box. Sam picked it up, turned, and handed it to her.
“This is from Mom, too. She said to return it when you’re ready. Don’t bother opening it right now. I’ll, um, go. Have a good day, though.”
“Sure. I appreciate it.” Kera nodded. “Tell your parents I said hi.”
He agreed and left, seemingly in a hurry due to embarrassment. She wasn’t sure why, and with teenage boys, who knew?
The soup smelled delicious, but before tearing into it, Kera examined the box. It was clearly a reused generic packing box, with no markings. She opened one end and out slid a smaller box that was original to the product.
“What the heck?” she breathed, staring at the soft, semi-shapeless mass of gleaming gold.
It was a blonde wig—an exceedingly nice and high-quality one, which could not possibly have been cheap. Seized with morbid curiosity, Kera studied the box for a price tag.
“Holy shit,” she sputtered. “$2,750. They’re lending me something that costs half as much as a fucking car.”
For an instant, she felt guilty and considered politely refusing the wig, giving it back with an “Oh, I could never...” statement. But she knew the Kims trusted her and were trying to return a favor. She would accept this graciously and do all in her power to return it to them intact.
After all, this was only until she figured out how to cha
nge her hair magically.
And she hadn’t realized until she held it in her hands just how much she wanted to look like herself again. Kera took the wig into the bathroom and pulled the mass of gold onto her head, then she almost teared up. The rush of pleasure was surprising in its intensity.
“I really, really screwed my hair up,” she admitted. “Fine. Offer accepted, Mrs. Kim.”
The girl found two halves of a plastic dummy head within the box and snapped them together to mount the wig on it, then put it on top of her wardrobe. She wouldn’t be able to wear it under her helmet, of course, but she could bring it to work in her backpack.
She found her phone and looked up the number for the Kims’ grocery store, then tapped it in. Mr. Kim answered.
“Hi,” she greeted him. “It’s Kera.”
“Hello, Kera! Sam stopped by, yes?”
“Yes. I love the wig. I mean, I love the soup, but you knew that already. The wig? Absolutely love it. Thank you so much.”
“Wonderful,” he told her. “Ye-jin insisted. She said it is important to a woman to be able to present the image she wishes to present. I trust her opinion on such things.”
Kera laughed. “That was very sweet of her, and she was right. I’d love to thank her in person. Could I stop by tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes, of course. She would love to see you.” Mr. Kim was always gracious, almost excessively so, but Kera suspected that meant that her “reiki” treatment had been a success thus far. She wanted to cry for happiness but stopped herself.
“Well, thank you again,” she told Mr. Kim. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and stop feeding me. You’re going to make me fat!”
The old man guffawed at that. “Not a chance. You’ll eat good food until I say to stop!”
She heard the door tone in the background, and Kim excused himself. They said their goodbyes and hung up. She leaned back on her bed, sighing.
Just you wait, Mom, she thought to herself. One of these days, I’m going to blow your mind when I tell you just how cool my career really is.
The thought made her chuckle.
At least she had something to do on her weekends when she wasn’t at work. Speaking of which…
She got ready in a hurry, deciding she wanted to be early. Her leathers went on at the end of the process, and the rest of her stuff was strapped into her pack, including the wig, which she wrapped in cloth and plastic to ensure it wouldn’t get wet or damaged.
“If someone throws a drink in my face while I’m wearing that thing,” she muttered while climbing astride Zee, “they’re dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Christian marveled as Jennifer, the bartender, laughed at the latest of Ted’s jokes. Incredibly, in his opinion, it sounded like Ted was on the verge of a home run. That was good because Christian didn’t make much of a wingman under the best of circumstances.
And Ted’s drunken jokes did not give him much to work with.
“So yeah,” Ted continued, leaning over the bar with a suave smile. “I have the next couple of days off. What do you say we get a few drinks? Someplace a little…quieter than this.”
She chuckled at that but shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “You’re funny, but I’m already with someone.”
“Huh?” Ted asked. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that and looked at Christian.
All Christian could do was shrug.
“Don’t want to ruin a good thing,” Jennifer said, taking pity on the two of them and finishing up the conversation on her own. She gave Ted what looked like a genuine smile. “No offense!” With that, she darted off to tend to another customer who was calling for her.
Ted stared after her forlornly.
“There, there.” Christian patted his shoulder and tried to keep the laughter from his voice. “It happens to the best of us.”
“It doesn’t happen to me,” Ted said blankly.
“That’s weird. What did I just see then?” Christian couldn’t keep from laughing, and he snorted when Ted shot him a stony look. “Oh, come on. Good learning experience, huh?”
“I may never love again,” Ted grumbled morosely.
“I predict that outlook will last until…oh, tomorrow at lunch.” Christian grinned and drained his beer, then did a double-take. A familiar figure had appeared at the end of the bar, sending his heart rate spiking by several notches.
“Hey, guys!” Kera said as she got close. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in earlier. It’s a busy-ass night. Nice to have you back.”
Christian nodded and tried to remember how words worked. “It’s good to be here,” he said and mentally cursed himself for sounding as if he were accepting an award. “Uh, did you do something different with your hair?”
It occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. Women sometimes got sensitive about anything that could be remotely construed as criticism of their appearance. Her hair did look like it might be a different shade of blonde, however, and the length and style had also changed.
“Oh,” she said, and to his surprise, she looked evasive for a moment. “Ah, different conditioner. More, uh, body. Shiny. Refill?”
Christian nodded, and she whisked his glass around the end of the bar and took it to the appropriate tap.
“Anyway,” she added as she filled the glass, “I’m glad I reached you guys before you got completely wasted.”
“Hey, now.” Christian pointed at his friend. “That’s just him.”
“Huh?” Ted looked back, having missed Kera’s appearance while staring after Jennifer. “Oh. Hi. When did you…hi.”
Kera followed his gaze. “Oh, Jennifer? Don’t worry, man, you’re in good company. She breaks hearts on the regular.” She patted the bar. “Order of fries on the house to take the sting out?”
Ted grumbled good-naturedly, and Kera smiled. She could tell that unlike many guys, he was frustrated that he had struck out but wasn’t going to try to change Jennifer’s mind. Behind all his overdone posturing, Ted was a good guy.
She was glad she had the busy night to keep her moving since it meant she didn’t linger next to Christian and possibly make a fool of herself. She backed up Jennifer when backlogs formed at the bar and took orders from the kitchen out to patrons in the booths and at the tables.
Once she glanced at Christian, but he caught her looking at him, and she felt like an idiot—even more so when she had to ask the patron she was waiting on to repeat their order.
In addition to her other duties, she also kept an eye on new customers streaming in through the front door. Around midnight, a trim, dark-haired figure who looked familiar slid in. Kera, who had just placed an order of onion rings on one of the tables, slowly straightened. Her eyes tracked the figure across the bar to a corner booth, and she looked away when his gaze moved toward her.
It was him. She might not be able to prove it in a court of law, but she knew in her gut that this man was the same asshole who had hit on her and shot up Zee after she said no. The same asshole who had threatened Cevin. Her certainty grew when she heard him give Stephanie a drink order. The voice, the way he moved—it was the same guy.
And if he was back, he was going to try to resolve one or both of his pieces of unfinished business. Strategies flashed through her head; she could lure him out into the alley, she could set a trap for him in the bathroom…
She took a deep breath and told herself not to do anything rash. She had gotten in over her head the other night and been lured into making a stupid mistake, and she knew this man was dangerous. A man with that temper and that sense of being owed was always dangerous, and this one had a gun.
And possibly backup.
As the night wore on and he didn’t make any shady moves, she told herself that she had overreacted to his presence in the bar. Maybe he’d learned his lesson. Maybe he wouldn’t do anything violent.
Part of her knew that wasn’t going to happen, but she felt trapped. How was she going to take this guy on without g
etting other people caught in the crossfire?
She had done something good for Mrs. Kim. Her powers could do good things, but not if she got herself killed.
She came back to herself to hear Ted laughing. She smiled and set down her tray, looking over as he said, “I already got shot down by the brunette. It’s your turn to ask someone out. Man up.”
Kera’s eyebrow shot up, and she busied herself by neatening up the container of cocktail umbrellas. She didn’t trust her face right now.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christian fidget. “That…might be valid.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Ted wiggled his fingers drunkenly as if he’d tried to make a gesture and forgotten what he was attempting halfway through. “How else would we decide it?”
He was too drunk to realize he’d made an error, but Kera knew exactly what Christian was going to do next.
“Random number,” Christian asserted suddenly, holding one finger up. His voice was triumphant. “Get a random number generator running, and let chance or chaos theory or whatever be the one to select which of us goes next.”
Before she had time to think, Kera turned toward them. “Hey, can anyone join in?”
They both looked at her, blinking.
Shit, shit, shit, she told herself.
“Join what?” Ted asked cautiously.
There was no way out now. Her heart was beating irregularly; she was pretty sure that was a sign of a serious health problem, but she didn’t see a graceful way to call an ambulance. Kera dried her hands on her towel and cleared her throat. “Uh, determining who has to be the next one to ask someone out.”
They looked at each other.
“Uh, sure,” Ted said.
Beside him, Christian was doing an impression of a fish.
To make it more fun and take some of the focus off her, Kera looked over her shoulder and called to her work partner, “Hey, Jenn! Come over here. Think of a number between one and ninety-nine. Just don’t tell us what it is.”
How to be a Badass Witch Page 22