Page 22 of Hexes From Exes

“You overheard?” Stephanie asked. She was, of course, talking about the fact that Jon spent almost an hour talking about the upcoming elections and how he felt that women shouldn’t vote. Stephanie didn’t remember him being that radical before, but it’d been a few years since they last spoke and the political climate in Arizona had shifted considerably. Stephanie always forgot there were people who existed on the fringe, and for some reason they were always the loudest. Stephanie sometimes felt like she was too harsh and too quick to break up with the men she dated. Then they’d do something stupid like that, and she’d remind herself that a biological clock only ever seemed to apply to women and not men.

“Everyone did, it’s why the bartender gave him flat soda for his jack and coke,” he said, nodding to the woman behind the bar who shook her head.

“Honey, I’m surprised you stayed as long as you did. I would have punched him and left.”

Stephanie smiled at them, having the exact same inclination. “Normally I would, however I’m proving a point. Well, more so, I’m in a bet,” she added.

“What sort of bet involves going on dates like that?” asked the man next to her.

Stephanie laughed. “A cruel one, and one that I didn’t necessarily instigate. Funny, isn’t it? I’m Stephanie,” she added, extending her hand.

The man shook it, his hand warm and calloused under her fingers. “Cooper, and for what it’s worth, I don’t think we need to set the clock back to 1920. I’m a bit more progressive than that,” he added.

“I should hope most people are that way,” Stephanie said with a shudder.

“He’s probably one of those incels,” said the bartender, leaning against the counter. “It’s always men who can’t get laid, so they take it out on women.”

“Anything but go to therapy,” Cooper echoed.

“I’ll drink to that,” Stephanie said, raising her glass.

* * *

The night wasn’t a complete loss - Cooper was actually a lot of fun. He was an investment banker that moved to Phoenix just a few months ago. He lived a building or two away from this bar, where he liked to come after a hard day at work and get a drink or two. He was originally from Texas, but when the boom happened and everyone relocated, he ended up in Phoenix.

“I prefer the dry heat,” he told Stephanie. By now they were sitting closer together, having moved their chairs to be just inches from each other. Stephanie’s knee was brushing against his, and his gaze kept darting to her lips.

It may not be one of her exes, but if she came out of this unscathed, then she should start dating again. Cooper was one of the better dates she’d ever been on, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

He even walked her to her ride share, gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and asked to see her again.

To her surprise, Rick greeted her as she stepped out of the ride share in front of her condo. She forgot that he knew where she lived, and that he’d basically admitted to stalking her in the weeks leading up to confronting her. The idea was unsettling, but it made sense in the name of research, she supposed. It was something she could understand.

“Do you run really fast, or can you teleport?” Stephanie asked.

Rick gave her a half smile. “I left the bar over an hour ago. It wasn’t part of our deal, you going on dates with non-exes.”

“Yes, well, I figured if I’m going to be cursed, I should have one last fling. What am I looking at? Disfigurement? The fall of my business?” she asked. She was heading toward her condo, opening the door to the lobby to Rick.

“No, not quite,” he allowed.

“Please tell me Jon was one of the exes,” she asked. “All these awful dates are giving me anxiety, it’s like PTSD,” she added.

Rick shook his head, following her into the elevator to her floor. “No, he wasn’t. Cooper seemed nice,” he added.

Cooper seemed nice. The words felt like acid on his tongue. The truth is he left the bar because he hated the way Stephanie was laughing and smiling at the man, who was a human and the exact type of man that Stephanie should be dating. He wasn’t sure why he felt that odd flare in the pit of his stomach watching the two interact.

Seeing her go on three bad dates now wasn’t proof that the men were the problem exclusively. Stephanie could have easily said something or done something to get a rise out of them, something to ultimately spell the end of their relationship. Just because she picked the worst exes doesn’t mean she wasn’t the problem. But seeing her with Cooper? That was like whiplash, because it was evidence to the contrary. Maybe she just had awful taste in men?

Stephanie stepped out of the elevator and punched in the code to her condo, opening the door to let Rick in. He paused at the threshold, aware of the intimacy of it. He was going into her home, just the two of them. It was different than the crowded living room at Chad’s place, or the other times he’d been summoned to do his revenge work. This was something more, and it made his stomach flip.

“I know you like those mojitos,” Stephanie said, slipping off her heels and heading into the kitchen. “I don’t have anything to make one…but I do have some seltzers?” she offered.

Rick shrugged and stepped inside. He had no idea what that was.

While she was retrieving the drinks, Rick had a moment to look around. Her condo was spacious but homey. Her kitchen cabinets were a deep hunter green with gold accents, with floating shelves that displayed her mismatched dinnerware. The plan was open concept, the kitchen spilling into the living room and dining room. The far wall of her living room was painted black, and the art that hung there was a mix of macabre and weird, including things like realistic crows in shadow boxes and dried flowers. Her couch was a plush sectional, the same color green as her cabinets. Rick’s own apartment lacked any decorations. The contrast was inviting, and it made Rick feel more comfortable as he sat at the island bar in her kitchen.

“Here,” she said, sliding the drink across the island to him. He popped it open and took a sip, finding it pleasing. He didn’t gulp it like he did the first time he had the mojito, taking measured sips. He remembered the following morning’s headache all too well.