Plenty of Trouble

by Magenta Wilde

  “I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know what happened.”

  “I do. You hit on my cousin and practically shoved me across a room full of people to get to her before getting into that big fist fight. Your face looks like crap, even in the dark, by the way. Go home and put a bag of frozen veggies on it and pop a couple aspirin. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But not tonight. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone.” I turned and began stalking off into the night.

  “But …”

  “No!” I whipped back in his direction, holding up a hand to still him. “Please. I just want to go home and be alone for a bit. This doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. It just means I want a few hours of peace and quiet.”

  “But … it’s dark out. It could be dangerous.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve walked this route hundreds, maybe even thousands of times before in all seasons and all times of the day. I’m not worried.”

  “We might be a small town, but we’re still a college town,” he started.

  “Trust me. I can take care of myself. Now, good night.”

  I continued along the sidewalk, fixed on home, eager for an hour in a hot bath, petting my two cats. Just, no people.

  I really hated it when a guy turned stalker-ish. If I wasn’t so mad at him at that moment I might have found it cute, yet it was anything but.

  I paused again, this time standing near a streetlamp, facing him. He pulled forward, holding even with me, the vehicle quietly idling.

  “Roger,” I seethed. “I did not say I never wanted to see you again, right?”

  He nodded.

  “But I did tell you that I wanted some time to myself, correct?”

  He nodded again.

  “Then …?” I held my hand out as I raised my eyebrows and waited for an answer.

  “But Poppy.”

  I resumed walking. I heard him creep along again.

  I felt my blood boil and my vision blur. I whipped my head in his direction and bellowed out a deep “No!”

  A burning smell filled the air and a hot gust of wind roared past, creating a whirlwind of dried leaves.

  Then I heard a pained electrical humming from up high before the streetlamp flickered and sparked out with a loud pop.

  Roger’s engine then stuttered and stalled. He slid back out of the truck, this time to lift the hood and peer inside. Black smoke billowed out and soared up. It smelled like anger. He waved it away in huge gestures with his hands.

  “What just happened? I worked on the truck this last week, readying it for winter. It should be in good shape,” he muttered over the engine. He reached for something and jerked his hand back in surprise. “Ouch! It shouldn’t be that hot!” He turned to me as he sucked on his burnt fingertips. “Did you do this? Can you do this?”

  I shrugged. My mother is the one who can usually cause some sort of mechanical or electrical malfunction. That tended not to be in my bag of witchy tricks. But tonight I was a bit drunk and furious to boot. Anything could happen.

  “Seriously, Poppy. Did you do this?” Roger’s voice trailed off as he scratched his head and shone his cell phone flashlight onto the engine.

  “I don’t know. But you’re a mechanic, so you should be able to fix it. Or maybe it just needs to cool down,” I added. “Get the hint?”

  I left him there. The rest of my walk was peaceful and silent.

  27

  THE NEXT MORNING I awoke feeling better than I thought I would. It probably helped that I had eaten a lot of junk food, which I’m convinced is a fine way to stave off a hangover. Pairing that with a good walk, some aspirin and lots of water, I felt ready to face the day, if not exactly raring to go.

  I fed the cats and played with them a bit before walking – since I had left my car downtown for the night – the few blocks over to Emily’s for a coffee and breakfast.

  When Emily looked at me she let out a low whistle.

  “Girl, what happened to you?”

  I halted. “Do I look that bad?”

  She shook her head. “You look pretty as ever. But something’s off. You’re conflicted. You’re upset, sad even. You’re …” she paused.

  “You’re going to need a longer list,” I sighed as I leaned against the counter.

  I filled her in on the previous night’s hijinks while she made me a flavored latte.

  “Wow. I had heard of a brawl by the Towne. I also saw what I was sure was your car over behind the bar strip. I’d thought maybe you’d gone home with Roger.”

  “Yeah, that didn’t happen.”

  “You don’t think he’s into Plenty, though, do you?”

  “No, not really. But something strange is going on.”

  “Bring her in here. I’ll suss it out.”

  I gave Emily a why-didn’t-I-think-of-that look. “I will. That’s a good idea.”

  “Do it. And take this orange mocha to rev your engines.”

  I thanked her and turned to leave when I ran into a familiar, bruised face.

  “Roger!”

  While I’d at least had some decent sleep the night before, Roger looked beat. Literally and metaphorically.

  My emotions had been swaying between furious and weepy when I let them shove their way front and center, but seeing the nasty welts on his face I felt only pangs of sympathy. I reached out to touch his face but held back slightly. “That looks awful. Does it hurt really bad?”

  Emily made her way to Roger, bearing a drink. “It’s chai, extra spicy with added cinnamon and ginger. It’ll help.” He took it gratefully and sat down at a corner table. Emily went to the back and I sat next to him.

  “Did you rest all right?” Roger asked, his cool gaze trained on me.

  “I did. I was so tired I actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Considering how much I drank I say I feel ahead of the game.” I skimmed my fingertips across his cheek. “Is it bad? Did you sleep okay?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t sleep a wink. As for the bruises, they’re not comfortable, but they’ll heal.”

  “How’s your truck?”

  “It’s fine. Now. About fifteen minutes after it conked out, I gave it another try and it fired up beautifully. Did you have something to do with that?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “So when you want your space, you really want your space?”

  “You could say that. I’m sorry I walked off like that, but I was upset. You went after Plenty, like she was the only thing that existed. When I reached out to you, you shoved me away like I was garbage. I was really mad, then hurt. Then mad again.”

  “I understand. I don’t even know what happened last night. I just remember snapping out of something when Trish poured that beer over my head. It was like I woke up and didn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten there.”

  “Well, that is odd.” I turned and saw Emily there. She’d clearly heard some of the conversation. She held out a wet cloth. “Put this on your face,” she ordered. “It’ll sting for a second, but it’ll help.”

  “What’s on it?” I asked as I watched Roger do as told. He winced for a moment then relaxed, mouthing a weak thank you.

  “Same kinds of stuff you’d use.”

  “Arnica? St. John’s Wort?”

  “That and a few other goodies.”

  “Speaking of arnica, I do have some balm back at my shop. You can come by or I’ll bring you some later,” I told Roger.

  “You still want to see me?” he asked. His eyes looked hopeful.

  “Sure, I do. I told you last night, I was miffed and needed a few hours to myself. I’m feeling better now. Since this all seems to revolve around Plenty, I’ve got some anger reserved for her.” I looked at Roger. “If Plenty turns up at my shop today, I may throw a paper bag over your head.”

  Emily chuckled.

  “I’m serious,” I pressed. “I may want to put a bag over Plenty’s head, too – a plastic one.”

  “Now, don’t get extreme,” Emily chided.

  “O
kay, I don’t want to do that. Not exactly. But I’m ready for her to go home. All she has done since she’s gotten here is insult me for being thirty and insist my face is too fat, insult my man for being a mechanic, angle for his brother because he thinks his brother is rich, eat on my dime, eat up my time, and try to get me to do some glamour magic. I’ve had – ”

  “Hold on a second.” Emily held up a hand to still me. “Did you say glamour magic?”

  I nodded.

  “You said earlier that all of a sudden the menfolk are going crazy for her?”

  I nodded again.

  “She could have gotten into something,” Emily mused, “maybe tried to enchant an object for her gain.”

  “Can that sort of thing be done?” Roger asked, still nursing his bruised face with the cold compress.

  “It can,” Emily said. “But it’s difficult magic to do. If you’re not careful, it can go haywire.”

  “Plenty’s not exactly known for being careful,” I complained. “So you think she may have done something to attract people? The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “From the behavior you tell me is following her around, how suddenly it starts up and stops again, I’d say that’s exactly what has happened.”

  Realization dawned on me. “What kind of object do you think it would be?”

  “From the look on your face, I’d say you already have a couple ideas,” Emily said.

  “I have two,” I admitted. I told them about the homemade perfume.

  “Compel? That’s what she named it?” Emily cackled as she sat down and slapped her knee. “That girl lacks subtlety and style.”

  “It does sound like a major red flag,” Roger mused.

  “Do you recall noticing any scent around Plenty” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “The whole place reeked of beer, colognes and perfumes, plus sweat, to be honest. Nothing stood out to me.”

  “She was applying it often, you say,” Emily asked, turning to me.

  I nodded. “She also was fussing with a vintage compact mirror she’d wheedled out of my mom. She likes to dig it out and check her makeup a lot. She’s always done that sort of thing, primping and preening.”

  “Well, I’d watch both items. The perfume would be a smarter way to glamour, and a more lasting one, at least through one’s next shower,” Emily said. “It would be inhaled, so its magic would snake its way through a person’s nose and throughout their body. A charmed mirror would be another way to work a glamour or an enchantment, but that’s trickier – and more fleeting.”

  “Food for thought,” I mused as I started to stand. Roger did the same. “You heading to work now?”

  He nodded.

  “Come by later,” I told him. “I’ll put some arnica balm on your face. It works pretty well on bruises.”

  He smiled appreciatively.

  My phone rang. I glanced at the screen. “Oh, God.”

  “Who is it?” Roger asked.

  “Plenty.” I answered and spoke to her for a few moments. “Okay, I’ll come get you,” I told her.

  “Where is she?” Emily asked.

  “Out on the edge of town. She went home with this guy Tony last night and needs a ride.”

  “Can’t he take her back?” Roger asked.

  “He’s gone. I’m guessing he probably had to work this morning and couldn’t wake her.”

  “How hard is it to wake someone?” Emily asked. “She’s not a teen or college student.”

  “Pretty hard, when it’s Plenty.” I looked at my watch. “There’s progress, though. She usually is dead until noon, and it’s not even ten yet.”

  “Well, hurray for adulthood,” Roger said. “I’m coming with you, though.”

  I stopped. “There’s no need. I can find the place. It’s a trailer just off Riverside, past the St. Mary’s Cemetery. Plenty remembers driving by last night. There’s a mailbox shaped like a deer. I remember seeing that before, so I can find it.”

  “I’m still going with you.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but saw how determined he looked. “Fine.”

  “When we get there I …”

  I trailed off, when I saw Roger conked out in the passenger’s seat. We were driving east along the river. I’d insisted on taking my car, mainly because driving would help me clear my head. Roger fought it until I reminded him he hadn’t slept the night before. I slid my gaze in his direction as I patted his arm and gently told him to get his rest, then wondered what it is with men and their ability to zonk out anyplace, anywhere.

  Fifteen minutes later I pulled into a long gravel driveway leading to a battered mobile home that was the color of dust. There was little decoration out front, save for an American flag draped over the living room window and an old Dodge truck that looked like it was being worked on. I pulled up short and paused to look at Roger. Last night I’d been furious with him, but seeing him sleeping so peacefully, I felt a pang in my chest. It was half lust, but also a warm, adoring feeling.

  I caressed his cheek and leaned over to give him a soft peck on the lips. He stirred and quickly looped an arm around me and pulled me closer, holding me firm for an eager kiss. I sank into it, enjoying the moment and the surge of passion that flared in my belly. I gave a happy moan of pleasure, entertaining the thought of climbing onto his lap. He was trying to tug me onto him, so he clearly had the same idea, but I pulled back, remembering why we were here.

  He looked revived; his stormy gray-blue eyes had some spark returned to their depths. “That was nice. Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  “I suppose so,” I smiled at him. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

  “I did. I feel raring to go.” He tilted his head downward toward his lap.

  I followed his gaze, fighting the urge to stare. “Yes, you’re up, most definitely.”

  His smile was wicked. “I think the kiss helped as much as – if not more – than the nap.”

  “Yes, well. I’m flattered and all, but try and regain some modesty – and strain the fabric of your pants a little less – before Plenty sees you. She might try to use you as a chew toy or something.

  “Actually, don’t even look at Plenty,” I continued. “That might be safer.”

  His expression sank. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust her,” I corrected.

  I climbed the three rickety steps to the mobile home entrance and raised my arm to rap on the door. Roger trailed me, and gave me a playful slap on the rear as I stood above him.

  “You are feeling revived,” aren’t you? I fought back a smile. I was enjoying the teasing. Hopefully today would be absent any major turmoil.

  Not two seconds after I’d knocked, the door flew open and there stood Plenty. She wasn’t as polished as she normally was. Some makeup had migrated below her eyes and her skin looked paler, blotchy, and her hair was flat. In its messy, wavier state, I thought it held a certain amount of nonchalant charm. She smiled when she caught sight of me, then let out a gasp of dismay when she saw Roger and retreated into the dark interior of the trailer.

  “What’s wrong,” I asked, following her inside.

  “Why did you bring him? I look awful.”

  “What? Roger offered to come along. It’s no big deal.” He followed me inside and stood next to me, placing an arm around my shoulder.

  “You look fine,” he said.

  “Not in comparison to her,” Plenty argued. She moved closer to me, inspecting my face for something. Blemishes perhaps. “How can you look so refreshed this morning?”

  I shrugged. “I washed my face. I got some sleep. I put on some BB cream and tinted Chapstick.”

  Plenty frowned at me, then changed tactics. “Why did you abandon me last night?”

  “I didn’t exactly plan it. The fight broke out. Trish and I stepped outside when the cops showed up.” I decided not to mention our breakfast outing. “By the time Mom and Tom showed up, you’d disappeared.”

  “I bet you
didn’t even call the police.”

  “They didn’t need to,” Roger said. “They were already there.”

  I nodded. “And that Jacob guy said you’d gone home with his friend.”

  Plenty looked around the room. Despite her height, she looked frail, shrunken almost, because she was so thin. She crossed her long arms in front of her and it made her look like she was chasing off a chill.

  “Are you cold?” I asked. “Hungry?”

  “A bit of both,” she sniffed.

  “Well, let’s go then. The sooner we get out of here the sooner you can get a bite to eat, enjoy a shower, catch up on sleep and all that.”

  “Just a second,” Plenty said. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her compact, and peered at her face. She raced to the bathroom and I heard water running and splashing sounds.

  I looked around the trailer’s drab interior.

  The brown couch was worn in parts, with a couple green afghans casually tossed about. The carpet was threadbare with a few smaller area rugs scattered. The coffee table was littered with beer cans and an overflowing ashtray. The lone new addition was a large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall.

  It smelled of old cabbage and cigarette butts.

  “I bet that couch is loaded with years of farts,” I murmured mostly to myself.

  I made my way to the kitchen. It was littered with dirty plastic plates, and empty pop and beer cans. A pizza box sat on the counter. I gingerly lifted the lid and saw a few half-eaten crusts inside.

  I turned to Roger. “Well, one thing is obvious. Plenty didn’t go home with a married man last night.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Take a look around. There’s no sign of a woman’s touch here.”

  Roger looked around. “What about the knitted blankets?”

  “Probably a gift from mom or grandma.”

  Roger mulled it over. “You’re probably right.”

  “Remember those words,” I teased. “They’ll take you far with me.”

  He smiled and made his way back to me, resting his hands on my hips and tugging me close.

  I looked at his battered face and caressed his cheek.