Thanks. -Stone)2: Nat
“He WHAT?”
“I said, he offered me a job. Crazy, right?” Em’s voice was beyond smug as she fiddled with the last bit of ham on her fork.
“This is ridiculous.” I turned to look at my brother, who was running a hand through his hair with a look of complete exasperation. “So let me get this straight: you screwed things up with our benefactor, you got fired, but now you’re working for the most respected collector in the state, and I’m out of a job. Did I get that right?”
I knew that reasoning with him was almost pointless, but I had to try. “Tristan, calm down. It’s not like she meant for any of this to happen--”
Tristan jumped up with a start, throwing down his napkin. “No, no she didn’t. But why were you even at the mansion in the first place? I swear, y--”
“Well maybe instead of jumping to conclusions, you could stop to think that maybe I went to try and get our--no, wait, your--funding back!” Em stood up just as quickly, and the way that they were staring at each other made me, for all intensive purposes, invisible.
Tristan started to say something, but she cut him off. “And when I confronted Dubois, he said last night had nothing to do with why the funding was cut. He said it was something the curator had done to himself.”
“Are you saying that Dr. Friedman lied to me?” he demanded. I could almost hear the blood boiling beneath his skin.
“I’m saying he was misinformed, Trist! Look, maybe I can talk to him and see if he would offer you a job, too.”
“Just forget it. I’m through with this.” Tristan shoved his chair away and stormed out of the room. Not a moment later, he returned only to stalk out of our apartment, briefcase in hand. God, I hope he didn’t do something stupid. All that raw emotion just spells trouble for people like us... No pun intended.
“Ugh! I hate him. Why is he always like this?” Emmalyn sat herself down with a defeated sort of pout--one I knew all too well.
“It’s not just his fault, you know. What’s gotten into you lately? The two of you are constantly at each other’s throats.” Understatement of the century? Maybe. The two of them had been at it ever since Em took the museum’s job.
“You’ve never had to work with him. It’s really hard, with him as my superior. I mean it’s his job, so he gets really frustrated when I can’t keep up, and he acts like everything is my fault.” She sounded really exasperated and maybe just a little tired.
“To be fair, you’ve had your share of incidents while you’ve been working there,” I reminded her.
“Well, yeah, but most of them were just honest accidents.” It might seem strange, but I believed her. There was a time in the not-all-too-distant past when she would actually think things through. “At least they used to be, but then he just expected the worse, and you know how I am about meeting people’s expectations.”
“Oh, Em, I think there’s a little sarcasm on your chin.” I pointed at her face as if she was making a mess of herself.
“Funny, Nat.” As she stopped to think, I could almost see the light bulb above her head flicker to life. “Hey. Let’s go to the bar.” She stood and slung her purse over her shoulder.
“Let’s go where?”
“To the bar.” She shrugged it off as if it was an everyday suggestion.
“You’re underage,” I reminded her, my tone darkening.
“So? Rick didn’t seem to care last week.” She giggled. “Or was it Justin? It’s hard to remember these things when you’re tipsy.” I sighed. There was no talking her out of things like this; she was going, with or without me.
“I’ll go, if only to make sure you don’t give yourself alcohol poisoning.”
“You’ll love it.”
---
Bars are LOUD. I mean, at least this one was. You’d think that at four in the afternoon, people would be doing something productive with their lives, but no. Apparently, people like to get drunk as much in the afternoon as they do at night.
I never really understood the need for drugs or alcohol. Some of my friends from the art department seemed to think that LSD and weed were the best thing to happen to art, but to me it was all just a waste of time.
And there was no arguing that this was just getting drunk for being drunk’s sake.
“Nat--Nat, Nat--Nat!!” I wrinkled my nose at the stench of alcohol on her breath. Would you like some personal space? ’Cause I sure would.
“I hear you. What?” Clearly, drunks don’t notice agitation.
“You need to try this. You’re, like, totally missing out. That guy over there totally has the hots for you.” The guy in question looked like he’d need an ambulance within the hour.
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, yeah you’re lame. Yeah, uh-huh, I said it, you’re laaame.” She proceeded to laugh at herself as if she’d just invented a new genre of stand-up comedy. “I’m gonna go dance.” As if you could even walk right now. Whatever.
I started to turn to follow Em but instead ran right into one of the bartenders. The boy grabbed my shoulder as I started to stumble. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir..” I glanced up at him, and his coffee-brown eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Woah, sweet-cheeks, you’re a witch. Way cool.” Wait, what?
“What did you just call me?” I thought I misheard him, at first.
“Sweet-cheeks?” The boy’s smile was so innocent as he held out his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Nat. The name’s Jean-Luc.”
My stomach lurched. “How did you know my name?” I shook his hand with a whole new level of hesitation.
“A whole new level of hesitation, huh? I feel special. Man, you’re real freaked now.” I let go of his hand quickly, feeling clammy all over. My palms were sweating, and I knew he could tell. How could he do that? “Aw, babe, haven’t you ever met a mind-reader before?”
“What the hell are you?” I hissed, thinking all sorts of horrible things at him that I would never have the nerve to vocalize. Bastard. Jerk--Pervert! My face flushed red.
“Woah, calm down there dovie. I only hear you when I’m touching you. Hands off, scout’s honor.” What? “Not like you’re not special yourself. You’re a little witchy.”
So what if I was a witch? At least I don’t invade people’s privacy. “Freak.” The boy laughed at me.
“Not every day I meet a girl like you, you know.” Great. Now he was flirting.
“I’m not interested.” I turned away and sipped my coke, pretending he wasn’t there.
“That’s not what I meant, doll, though I’d be happy to oblige…” I shot him a look, and he quieted. “Seriously though. You know there’s others like you out there, right?”
My heart raced even fasted in my chest. How did he…Doesn’t matter. “Yeah, I’ve always known. I’ve just never met one before. And now I’m glad I haven’t.”
“Yikes. That was harsh, babe. Do you even know anyone else?”
“My brother,” I mumbled before stealing another glance up at Jean-Luc. It was the first time I actually really studied him. It made him more real once I took in his dark skin, the way his thick hair curled at the tip of his chin.
“You know there’s thousands in this city alone. More than just witches, too. There’s mind readers and shape shifters--even people who can steal your soul at a single touch.” The thought made my stomach churn, but it was also not the first I’d heard of it. Tristan kept me well informed.
“I’m aware.” There was a bit of a silence.
“You should meet up with us on Sunday. Your brother too,” he suggested. Before I could formally reject him, he was already scribbling down his number onto a coaster. “We meet at 9am every Sunday…magicians anonymous, if you will.” He laughed at his own joke. Secretly, I hoped he knew it wasn’t funny.
Emmalyn chose that precise moment to return to me--and with some guy on her shoulder. “Nat, Nat, I’m going home now,” she sputtered. “Oh, meet my new friend Fred. Isn’t that a funny name? Fred? Friend Fred.”
“Actually, I’m Dan--He’s Fred.” The guy in question pointed at one of his friends in the next room playing pool.
“Ohh…Haha, I’m so bad at names,” Em mumbled.
“You’re not driving,” I informed her angrily. “And I don’t think you should go home with him.” The guy gave me a “what-the-hell” sort of look.
“Stop being so ridiculous, Nat, I’m just having fun!” Yeah right. You’re just having a lapse of judgment!
“Yeah, we’re leaving. Bye, Matt.” The guy dragged her off towards the entrance. At least he wasn’t as drunk as Em was, even if he looked like a sex-happy jerk.
“It’s Nat!” Not that it mattered.
“You’re friends with that chick?” Jean-Luc asked me with a look of bewilderment.
“Unfortunately. I should probably go after her. It was…nice…meeting you, Jean-Luc.”
“Just call me J.” J flashed a grin. “Remember, 9am.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered, shoving the coaster in my pocket. “Bye.”
“See ya Sunday, darlin’!”
