Something Wicked (2 page)

I shook my head. "Not yet."

She flipped her hair, clearly annoyed. "Do I have to do
everything myself? She'll call you tomorrow to set it up. Right Melinda?"

"Tara, I had a lot going on with my class schedule—"
Melinda started.

 Tara cut her off abruptly. "You are never too busy to
take care of the girls. Right?"

"Right," she gave in quickly. "It won't
happen again. I'll set it up tomorrow. Promise."

"And those readings better be spot-on," Tara
called over her shoulder to me as she stalked out the store, Melinda nipping at
her heels. "I don't want my girls disappointed!"

The screen door slammed and Amanda exhaled a low whistle.
"The original Mean Girl."

I dropped into my chair, kicking my feet up on the tarot
reading table. "No kidding."

"You got to leave for work yet?" Amanda asked.

"I have a few minutes."

"Good because I've got to piss like a racehorse. Can
you cover the store?"

I nodded and gave her a weary thumbs up then dropped my head
onto the table. I wouldn't be able to keep the store open without Amanda, not
since I had to pick up a job cleaning a frat house. The schedule was
exhausting, and classes hadn't even started yet. I wanted to take a history
class to finish up my core requirements, but it was looking less likely. I was
just a few credits shy of graduating, but at this rate, I was on the 10-year
plan.

I must have nodded off, because the sound of the toilet
flush jerked me awake.

"Isadora!" Finn bellowed from the upstairs
bathroom.

I forgot he was in the shower.

"Whoops," Amanda said with a snicker, wiping her
hands on her jeans as she came back into the store.

I scrambled out of my seat, tossing things into my book bag
as I rushed around the store. "I think I'll go to campus early. Run some
errands before my cleaning shift."

I scurried out of the store, hoping to avoid confrontation.
But Finn tossed open the tiny window in the bathroom. His hair was covered in
shampoo suds, and his expression was sour.

"I thought we had a deal," he yelled as I hoisted
myself into my beat up Bronco.

"Sorry!" I called out, waving apologetically out
of the open driver's side window. I pulled out of the small
driveway-turned-parking-lot, and tore out onto Main Street.

Finn was going to kill me.

CHAPTER TWO

Finn

Finn's work boots thudded up the stairs, the final step at
the top creaking for good measure. He stormed down the hallway to his room.
Tara's whine carried all the way up the stairs. The old walls were certainly
thin.

The second he stepped into his room, he striped out of his
tee shirt, dropping it in the hamper. Sitting on the bed, he kicked off his
boots and removed his socks, giving them a successful basketball toss into the
laundry basket. It was tempting to lie back on his bed and close his eyes, but
he had an afternoon meeting at Huskies before his shift. No rest for the
wicked.

He got up from the bed and grabbed a towel and his shower
caddy. He heard Tara's Mercedes turn over in the tiny parking lot outside of
the store. He headed back into the hallway, relieved that he could make it to
the bathroom without the aural assault of her voice.

The ancient pipes groaned as he turned the shower faucet on.
While he waited for the water to heat up, he kicked off this jeans and boxers,
still sporting a mini-erection from being in close proximity to Izzy. Damn if
that girl didn't drive him crazy, in both senses of the word.

Stepping into the claw foot tub, he moved under the showerhead,
tepid water spilling over his hair and down his face. As the water continued to
heat up, he grabbed his soap and worked it into a thick lather. The bathroom
filled with the scent of sandalwood, and his mind focused on Izzy, and how
tight her body felt when she brushed past him in the kitchen. She definitely
felt his wood, and he chuckled, remembering her shock. She moved her arm like
she brushed against flames, not his denim covered crotch.

He began shampooing his hair, thinking of how cute Izzy
looked in her too-big jeans, held up by a ridiculous scarf. Her milky white
skin tempted him, begging him to run his tongue along the nape of her neck and
along the cleavage that peaked out of her tank top. Keeping himself in check
around her was becoming exceedingly difficult.

He was here to do a job, and she was turning into a first
rate distraction.

He ran his soapy hands along his body, sudsing himself up.
Izzy wasn't as skilled as her Grandmother, and she was spelling out of her
comfort zone. Since he didn't want to let on that he was sent here by his
coven, there was only so much he could do to help her out. Of course, he didn't
expect the sorority girls to stick around after her Grandmother passed away.
Like an idiot, he assumed they wouldn't bother coming around with Izzy in
charge. While she didn't have the commanding presence of the matriarch, she did
carry noticeable power for a novice witch. It almost flowed off her skin, like
she was electrified.

Finn thought of her soft skin and wondered if sparks would
leap from his fingers if he touched it.

With Izzy capturing his thoughts, his hands worked their way
down his muscled abdominals, inching lower and lower. He brushed against his
cock, now at full mast as he thought about unknotting that ridiculous scarf
that held up her pants, imagining her in full commando when the worn denim hit
the ground.

Almost absently, he stroked himself, unsure if he really had
time for this. Between his job, taking classes part time, and keeping Izzy from
blowing up the joint with her novice potion work, he was perpetually exhausted,
always short on time, and even shorter with temper. Maybe he needed to relieve some
more tension, he reasoned, squeezing his hard shaft firmly, moving his hand in
a slow, rhythmic motion. Hot water cascaded over him and he groaned as the
pleasure built. Moving his hand up and down faster, his breath quickened while
his Izzy fantasy heated up.

The pipes clanged out a warning, but Finn was too lost in
pleasure to notice it until it was too late. Scalding-hot water spewed out of
the showerhead, and his erotic thoughts about Izzy disintegrated. She flushed
the damn toilet.

From the tiny window over the tub, he caught sight of her
rushing to her car.

"Isadora!" he shouted, flinging open the window.

Instead of stopping, she dove into her Bronco. Finn heard
the engine struggle a bit before turning over. She gave him a half-assed wave
as she peeled out of the driveway.

His cock withered at the shock of the hot water. At the same
time, his frustration rose.

CHAPTER THREE

"I love it when you're on your knees for me,
baby," Danny teased, stopping abruptly as he walked past the open
bathroom. He leaned suggestively against the doorframe, his pelvis jutting forward,
and winked at me.

My face flamed red but I ignored him and continued scrubbing
the shower floor.

"You aren't supposed to be in here," Johnny
retorted, flushing the toilet he just swished.

"What are you going to do?" Danny snickered.
"Beat me up with a toilet brush."

"Maybe I will," Johnny sputtered, flicking the
sopping brush toward Danny, spattering toilet water all over his Abercrombie
t-shirt. Only assholes wore Abercrombie.

"You punk-ass little shit!" Danny lunged for
Johnny, who smartly scurried out of the Frat boy's reach. "Want me to
report you to Mr. Masters? That'll wipe that smirk off your face."

Johnny's face dimmed at the prospect of losing his job. He
glanced at me nervously.

"Speaking of Masters," I said, standing up to my
full 5'6" height. Not Amazonian, but slightly taller than Johnny.
"Maybe it's time to tell him about the harassment I put up with from the
brothers in this house since taking this job."

"What harassment?" he challenged. "I didn't
do anything."

"I didn't say you did. But your brothers? Some of them
love to play fast and lose with behavior that could get your frat booted off
campus," I warned, peeling the green latex gloves off my hands. "So I
suggest you leave us both alone, and let us do our jobs."

He looked me up and down slowly, and it was all I could do
to not flinch as his eyes uncomfortably followed every curve of my body. That
was exactly the behavior I was talking about, but some of them verbalized it.

Boldly, I decided to return the favor, giving him the once over.
Lean and lanky, wearing a pair of jeans that easily cost two week's of my cleaning
salary, his nose was slightly hooked, like it had been broken once of twice.
His sandy blond hair was overgrown and shaggy. Not bad looking, but he oozed
entitled prick.

The longer I stared at him, the more he fidgeted. "Doesn't
feel great when you're caught in a critical gaze, does it?"

"You wouldn't dare," he sniffed at us before
stalking out of the loo.

"Yeah, what's the point, Iz?" Johnny added loudly.
"They only believe the wealthy students anyway. Even if their family got
rich by ripping off poor people."

Danny turned, his face clouded over. He made a step towards
Johnny, his nostrils flaring. When Johnny balled up his fists, I jumped between
them.

"Walk away, Danny," I warned. "You graduated
in May, you aren't even supposed to be here. If there's trouble, the cops can't
treat you like a student. Your father's money can't make that go away."

Danny Stevenson's dad was the area's local loan shark,
specializing in all sorts of predatory loans. Payday loans, car title loans,
anything that forced desperate people to sell themselves into indentured
servitude. Willimantic, the small town next door to the university, was a mix
of college kids living off campus, and townies, like me. Most of us townies were
in pretty dire straights. His dad loved us.

But he was a pillar of the community. Go figure.

Danny considered what I said, his posture drooping slightly.
"It was a low blow."

I shrugged. "There's some truth there."

 He scowled but said nothing, instead turning on his heel
and stalking out of the bathroom.

"Rich people, right, Iz?" Johnny smirked, watching
Danny walk away.

"Right, Johnny," I sighed, digging the glass
cleaner out of my caddy to wipe down the mirrors.

"That was pretty awesome, though," he said.
"Sticking up for me like that. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yeah, I didn't think I had it in me either," I
replied, puffing up a bit with pride. It felt good to be assertive. Maybe I'd
do it again sometime.

Johnny pulled out the mop and started on the floors while I
spritzed a mirror. We usually played music from his iPod and a portable
speaker, but one of the Fratholes bitched about the noise to Mr. Masters, so
that was the end of that. I guess we could use headphones, but then we wouldn't
be able to talk to each other. Talking made the shit work (pun intended) more
fun.

"Sucks we have to put up with their crap, Iz,"
Johnny said, swirling the mop around on the dingy tile. "I mean, we could
talk to Masters about it. Think he'd back us up?"

"I need this job, Johnny," I sighed, feeling cold
air on my stomach when my shirt lifted up as I stretched to reach the top of
the glass. "The shop just isn't pulling in enough money without Grams. I
can't take that risk."

"Your Grams wasn't pulling in enough money at the shop
either. That's why she took the job as house mother in Tara's sorority,"
he reminded me.

"But that was to pay for my tuition," I explained.
"If she wasn't so worried about me, she'd have been home free."

He wrinkled his nose at me. "Really?"

"Well, if she didn't have me. Or my mom." I wiped
violently at a streak in the mirror, trying to push thoughts of my mother out
of my head.

"Did she ever at least get a lead?" Johnny asked.

"Nope," I said through gritted teeth. I wasn't in
the mood to talk about my deadbeat mom, who ran off to California to join some
weirdo cult. Grams put a second mortgage on the house to pay for a private
detective to track her down and get her to come home. All we had to show for it
was a lean on the house and my Grams' broken heart. I'm pretty sure it's what
killed her.

"She tried, right?" Johnny said, looking slightly
uncomfortable. "You both did."

"I guess," I shrugged, not wanted to talk about
it.

"So, are we going to tell Masters?" Johnny asked,
smartly changing the subject.

"No," I responded, not exactly happy with myself.
"I need this job."

"Even if it means you have to eat shit?"

I tossed the used paper towels into the trash bin.
"Even if."

Johnny mopped in silence while I got busy with the rest of
the mirrors that lined the wall of sinks. Even though we worked quickly, I
could see the sunlight fading through the bathroom's frosted windows. I was
supposed to meet Amanda at Bidwell Tavern for Wednesday night wings. Didn't
look like I'd make it, especially since I didn't want to stay out late. Between
keeping The Witchery's doors open, the cleaning job to pay the two mortgages,
and the few classes I cobbled together for the semester, I needed to wake up at
the crack of dawn to get everything ticked off my to-do list.

Johnny's voice interrupted my thoughts about beer and wings
and to-do lists. "Hey, so, if you need extra cash, maybe you want to do me
a favor?"

"Depends," I said casually, hoping to mask my
excitement. Truthfully, if it had money attached, I was very interested.

"You know I clean the classrooms and class buildings
too, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, I'm scheduled for an overnight tomorrow night,
and I kind of have a date."

I raised my eyebrow at this. "
You
have a
date?" He looked offended. "All I mean is that you're holding out on
me!"

"Not really," he said quickly. "I mean, yeah,
maybe a little. But it's not a date-date."

"Dude, a date is a date," I snickered at him.

"Well, I mean, we're just..."

"Oh, no," I stared at him in the mirror.
"Please don't tell me you're..."

"What?"

"You are, aren't you?"

"What?"

I sighed and turned to face him, paper towel stuffed hands
on my hips.

"Okay, yes," he said, flustered. "I am taking
her to Gamers Gambit."

"You really think that's a good idea?" I
challenged.

Gamers Gambit and Dragon Den was some serious nerdcore.
Johnny was going to force his date to play Dungeons and Dragons. His nerdy
gamer pals were probably tagging along.

"So? Will you cover for me?" He looked at me
hopefully, his large eyes like dark moons, taking over his face.

Johnny was kind of cute, in a rumpled sort of way. Although
he was in desperate need of a good night's sleep, a haircut, and a few good
meals.

"You really think you won't be back in time for your
shift?" I chewed uncomfortably on my lip. If he was taking her to Gamers
Gambit, there was a very good chance that he'd be freed up pretty quickly to
make it to work in time.

"Trust me," he said. "I'm taking her to
dinner first."

"Not Taco Bell, right?"

"No, smart ass," he replied, wagging his middle
finger at me. "I'm taking her to Elmer's Diner. The earliest we'll get to
the Gambit is 9 PM."

I considered it. The Gambit was in Danbury, and that was a
bit of a haul. Even if she fled screaming from the gaming store, it would take
them some time to get back to campus.

"Yes," I said, turning back to finish the mirrors.
"What're the details?"

"I'm in the English building tomorrow night, so just
show up there. But I have to warn you, the work is more demanding than the
Greek houses. It's the real commercial cleaning."

"I can handle it." I said confidently.

"You'll have to use the buffing machine," he
warned. "That thing feels like a zillion pounds."

"I can handle it," I repeated, silently thinking
that if his skinny ass could manage the floor buffer, I sure as hell could.
"What time do I show up?"

"10 PM," he said. "And sharp. Masters' night
supervisor is a hardass."

"When am I ever late?" I sighed, silently ruing my
promptness.

Many young women find their way into The Craft through their
disaffection, so they are generally sullen and rebellious. And punctuality
challenged. For a witch, I was not even close to being a badass. I was always
on time. Usually, I was early.

"There's always a first time. Thanks so much for doing
this." He added.

"Hey, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of
love." I put the final swipe on the mirror. "But maybe you should
rethink the Gamers Gambit. Not exactly the gateway to romance."

"Don't you worry about me," he grinned mischievously.
"It's where we met."

"Ah ha!" I shrieked, throwing the paper towel at
him. "You were holding out on me!"

He caught the balled up towel and tossed it back at me.
"Not really, I swear. We met last weekend and ended up in game chatting
while we played Gears of War all week. So, you know..."

"She likes to game," I finished for him.
"That's cool, Johnny. I am really happy for you."

"So..." he hedged.

 "Don't ask me about my love life, please," I
packed up my cleaning supplies into the caddy. "I am too busy to even
think about it."

"Not what I was going to ask about," he said
slowly. "But was kind of wondering if maybe, you know, I needed a...you
know, a potion."

I sighed and gave him a weak smile. "Just be yourself,
sweetie. I don't think you require any potion. She'll adore you without
it."

He almost looked relieved. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I said, my smile broadening to
match his. "Ready to tackle the common room?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said.

When we exited the bathroom, both of us were grinning like
fools. Running smack into Danny just outside the door, however, wiped the
smiles off both of our faces.

"Hey," he said, doing this sort of awkward rubbing
together of his hands. "Can I talk to you a sec?"

"Go ahead, Johnny," I nodded. "I'll catch up
with you in a minute." Danny watched Johnny disappear down the staircase, before
eyeing me nervously.

“What is it?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.
"I am on the clock here."

"I just was wondering if you wanted to hang out
sometime." He kept his voice low, like we were in on some big conspiracy,
not at all like he was asking me on a date.

I crossed my arms over my chest and blew my bangs out of my
eyes. "Is this a joke? Some sort of weird Candid Camera prank?"

"No joke," he said quickly. "I just thought
maybe we could grab a beer, hang out. Get to know each other better."

There was no noise in the house, which heightened my
suspicion further. Damned if I'd be on the ass end of a stupid frat prank.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" I whispered, trying
to keep my voice from shaking as a mix of rage and hurt built inside me.
"I know what you are doing. Let's punk the cleaning lady. It'll be
hilarious."

"You think that's what this is about?" he asked.
His shocked expression was almost believable.

"Of course that's what this is about," I seethed,
my frustration coming to a head. "People like me, and Johnny? We're all
one big joke to you. I've watched
Carrie
. Numerous times."

"Whoa!" he said, raising his hands in mock
surrender. "I'm not talking pig's blood here. Just, I don't know, I
thought maybe if we got to know each other..."