Something Wicked (3 page)

"You've never once showed any interest in hanging
out," my voice was flat.

"I just, I don't know," he said. "I think you're
cute, and figured it was maybe time to act on it."

"Do you even know my name?"

I let the uncomfortable silence fester for a minute.

"Look I got to get back to work," I said, the
hallway suddenly feeling claustrophobic. "Thanks for the offer, but it's
just not going to work out."

With that declaration, I slipped past him and speed walked
down the hallway. In my haste to get away from him, I practically fell down the
stairs. When I was safely out of sight, I raised my arm to my nose scented
myself, from wrist to elbow. A faint note of lavender—barely perceptible—hit my
nose.

The damn love potion. I really hoped I wasn't dosed.

CHAPTER FOUR

I bolted upright at 3 AM, woken by the sound of shattered
glass and a heavy thud coming from the living room. My eyes barely open, I
stumbled down the hallway, nearly colliding into Amanda, who waited cautiously
at the top of the stairs.

"What was that?" I whispered.

She shook her head. "Maybe one of Finn's conquests is coming
for her revenge."

"Or maybe it's a rapist," I responded, my knees
began to shake. I was in a tank top and underwear. Easy access.

"Please, Iz," Amanda muttered. "I bet it's
because of Finn. You can't love-and-leave that many girls without at least one
of them exacting revenge."

"Too bad he's not home to catch the brunt of it,"
I whispered. "What do we do?"

She shrugged. "We go see if it's a jilted girl. Or a
rapist.

I reluctantly followed her down the stairs, keeping my body
against the wall as if it could offer protection.

When we reached the bottom, Amanda raised her finger to her
lips to indicate silence, and then pointed to the poker leaning next to the
fireplace. I crept towards it, tensing at each creak my shifting weight made on
the old hardwood floor, and picked it up. The heft of the iron made me feel
slightly better. Amanda motioned for me to stand opposite her on the other side
of the door. When she touched the doorknob, I heaved the heavy bar over my
head, adrenaline clearly turning me into Super Woman.

I barely made out Amanda's silent countdown, her lips
catching the moonlight just enough for me to see her mouthing "3, 2,
1." She swung the door open and I jumped in front with a primal shriek,
poker at the ready. Instead of a burly intruder, I was
face-to-tear-stained-face with Tara. Her usually perfect hair was wild and her
clothing disheveled. She reeked of beer.

Tara turned her flushed face towards me and marched into the
house, clearly not phased by the iron poker still raised above my head. Her
pointer finger was poking at the air furiously. "You. Said. He'd. Love.
Me!"

I stared at her blankly, relaxing my arms back to my sides,
but not releasing the poker. "What are you talking about?"

"You. Said. He'd. Love. Me," she repeated, tears
welled in her eyes.

"Oh shit," Amanda chimed in. "I think she's
talking about that potion."

I gulped. "What happened, Tara?"

"I did everything you told me to do.
E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G," she slurred.

"And?" I pushed.

"And he said NO," Tara released a sob.

"I'm sorry, Tara," I started but Amanda
interrupted.

"Don't be sorry," Amanda barked. "You told
her she can't force someone to love her. She can't take away someone's free
will."

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. That so wasn't
what Tara wanted to hear right now.

Tara screwed up her face in fury, stomping her feet.
"But I want him!"

Amanda looked her up and down with disgust. "You need
to sober up."

"Fuck you," Tara exploded, tensing her fingers
into claws and leaping towards Amanda, who calmly stepped aside. Tara stumbled,
turned on her heel and reached out, grasping at air. I lunged forward to try to
grab her but I was too slow. She fell on her ass, hard. That was going to leave
a bruise.

I expected her to jump up and go at Amanda again. But
instead, the rest of her body slumped to the floor. She closed her eyes.

Amanda nudged her toe into Tara's arm. "Tara, you need
to go home and sober up."

Tara slapped at Amanda's foot, muttered something
incomprehensible, and then went limp.

I looked out into the lot, and saw her Mercedes parked
askew, its front end on the grass. She missed the hedges by about an inch. Tara
was lucky she made it here alive.

"She can't drive like this," I protested.

Amanda shrugged. "You're too nice. Bitch tossed a brick
through the living room window. What you ought to be doing is calling the
cops."

"She'll pay for the window. I can't ruin her life with
a DUI. Or a vandalism charge."

I didn't add that I needed Tara's support with the other
campus sororities for October's income. Calling the cops on her would be the
quickest way to lose it.

"Sounds like she already thinks you did ruin her
life," Amanda said, shaking her head. "She's pretty pissed about that
potion."

"She's just drunk. She'll come around once she sobers
up."

Amanda pressed her lips together and shook her head.
"That sounds like magical thinking."

I sighed, about to tell her she should be more generous
about people, but I was interrupted by a set of headlights pulling into the
driveway.

"Great," I muttered. "Finn's home."

"He has impeccable timing, doesn't he?" Amanda
said sarcastically, squinting at the lights. "You think he'll be helpful
or make it worse?"

"Depends on his mood," I said, glancing at Tara,
who was now snoring. "This sucks."

"That's an understatement," Amanda replied,
scowling down at Tara.

Finn slammed the door to his Jeep. The sharp sound made me
jump. He was grumpy at the best of times. No telling what this scenario playing
out on the living room floor would do to his mood. Particularly since he was
coming home from his bouncing shift at the bar. He had to be sick of college
drunks by now, and here we had one of our very own, curled in the fetal
position, at the foot of our staircase.

As Finn strode up the walk, I was relieved to see that he
was alone. Explaining this to Finn sucked enough. I didn't want to stand
face-to-face with one of his conquests, forced to make small talk.

A cool breeze swept past the open door, putting my nipples
on edge. That's when I remembered that I was practically naked. Like bikini
underwear and thin tank top and nothing else naked.

Amanda had a robe on. Both she and Finn had AC in their
rooms. But I wanted to keep the electric bill down, so I didn't have a cooling
system, opting to open a window in the summer months. My sleeping attire
reflected that. There was no way I would make it upstairs and back down again
before Finn hit the front door, and I didn't want to leave Amanda to face his
potential outrage on her own.

He took the stairs to the front porch two-at-a-time, and
then stopped short at the front door, his eyes taking it all in. "What the
fuck?"

Because really, what does one say when confronted at 3 AM
with a broken living room window, a passed out sorority girl blocking the egress,
and two housemates—one of whom is half naked—rocking some serious bed head?

"There was a thing..." I stammered.

"You don't say?" he retorted.

I looked at Amanda fleetingly. She just scowled at both of
us.

"Yeah, and Tara is really drunk," I continued.

"You don't say?" he repeated.

"Yeah, and she's not in the best shape to drive."

"You don't say?" he said once again, this time
glaring at Tara's immobile body.

"Dammit, Finn! Stop acting like you're my father or
something."

"Well, I think I deserve to know why there is a broken
window and a drunk sorority girl on the floor," he said calmly. "I do
pay rent here, you know."

"And I'm trying to explain! But you are such a..."
I stopped myself and took a deep breath. "I am sorry about the mess, I am
cleaning it up. Go on upstairs. Everything is under control."

Tara groaned and opened her eyes. "I think I'm
gonna..."

"Okay then!" Amanda cut her off. With almost
preternatural speed and strength, she gripped Amanda under the arms and dragged
her onto her feet. "Let's just get you to the bathroom."

"Want me to take her?" I offered, but Amanda shook
her head and she stumbled with Tara towards the bathroom. She clearly preferred
facing off with barf to facing off with Finn.

I turned and looked him in the eye, resolved to be the
biggest bitch on the planet. I dropped my hands to my hips, underwear be
damned. "So go on then, go up to your room. We don't need any help. We've
got this."

"That's not what I meant," he muttered, adding an
exasperated sigh at the end before turning his attention to the broken window.
"And I don't think either of you can fix that."

What could I say? He was right. I may be a crack cleaning
lady, but I was no Handy Andy.

"Do you have any plywood?" He bulldozed over my
silence, raising my hackles.

"No," I said flatly. "Why, you going to fix
it?"

"You weren't thinking of leaving the window like that
all night, were you?" he asked, heading up the stairs.

"You can't fix it in bed," I yelled up after him. Not
dealing with the broken window until morning exactly was my plan.

He stopped half way up the stairs. "God, Iz, I am
getting a spare tarp and some duct tape."

"You keep a tarp and duct tape in your room?" I
muttered. "Just like a serial killer."

"I heard that," he called over his shoulder and continued
his ascent up the stairs.

With the living room clear of bodies, it was a good time to
sweep up the glass. Ignoring Tara's retching from behind the bathroom door, I
slipped into the kitchen to grab a dustpan and brush. On the way back to the
living room, I knocked lightly on the door. Amanda opened it about an inch, and
I saw Tara, her cheek lying against the cool porcelain toilet.

"You owe me," she said sourly.

"Thanks, and sorry?" I tried, not really sure how
to respond to her. I expected the sour puss from Finn but not from Amanda.

She slouched against the doorframe. "No, I'm sorry. I
know it's not your fault. I'm just annoyed. And grossed out. I had to hold her
hair back and everything."

I gave her a small smile and held up the broom and dustpan,
managing to keep the paper shopping bag I grabbed for the refuse tucked under
my arm. "You think you can keep her in here a little while longer?"

Amanda dropped her eyes to Tara, whose clammy skin still
carried a greenish hue. "Oh don't think she's going anywhere just
yet."

Finn was still stomping around his room, and I had to get
busy sweeping lest he track glass all over the house. Amanda closed the
bathroom door, leaving me to walk gingerly around on my bare feet while I swept
the shards into a pile.

I didn't want to look up when Finn thudded back down the
stairs, preferring to keep my eyes on the pieces of broken window. Raising my
head was almost automatic, though, and as soon as I did it, I wished I kept my
eyes averted.

Finn changed into pajamas while he was upstairs. The loose
bottoms slung low on his hip, leaving no question that he wasn't wearing
boxers. Or briefs. Did I mention he was shirtless? His chiseled chest muscles
rippled down to well-defined abs. His body flexed in all the right places while
he spread out his tarp. Gawking was mandatory.

I averted my eyes, forcing myself to laser focus on cleaning
up the mess of broken glass while Finn wrestled the tarp open. I hummed quietly
while I worked, hoping to push the impure thoughts I was having about Finn and
his low-hanging jammies out of my mind. Why in the name of Salem did Finn have
to be so freaking hot?

I vaguely heard Finn saying something as I hummed the chorus
of Living on Prayer. "Take my hand and we'll make it I swear, Ohhh Ohhh Living
on a Prayer!"

"Izzy!" Finn shouted, ripping me out of my 1980s
rock star dream. Oh damn. I wasn't humming. I was singing. Really loud.

I cleared my throat and faced him calmly. "Yes?"

"Could you hold up the tarp while I tape it?"

"Oh, yeah, sure thing," I stammered. "Just
give me a sec."

I swept the glass pieces into the dustpan and dumped the pan
into the paper bag, the glass pieces grating against each other as they tumbled
to the bottom. I walked carefully on my tiptoes over to the window, hoping
there weren't remaining shards ready to embed into my bare feet. When I safely
reached the window, I took a corner of the tarp from Finn and held it over my
head to the corner of the window.

Finn taped off the opposite top corner, then dropped to his
knees and started on the bottom of the windowsill. I stood, arms above my head
holding the tarp in place, while he carefully adhered the rough plastic to the
wood.

"This is not a cosmetic fix, Finn," I groused at
his meticulousness when my arms started to go numb. "Can you hurry it
up?"

"I'd rather make sure the bugs don't get in," he
countered. "Unless, you want a few extra creepy crawlies in the house
tonight?"

Good point. I shuddered at the thought of spiders and kept
my mouth shut.

With Finn kneeling just below me, I was suddenly very aware
of my lack of appropriate pajamas. With my arms lifted, my tank top rose too,
leaving my stomach exposed. Finn worked his body around my own as he continued
to tape the tarp to the window. His hands brushed gently across my bare thighs.

I felt his breath tickle gently across my stomach as he
spoke, his voice rough and husky. "Sorry."