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Josie raises her hands, palms out. “I’m running a business here. What would you have me do?”
“Not put hexes on other women,” I say, even though I don’t truly believe she did any such thing. Sure, there’s no denying that I broke my ankle and ill-advisedly made out with my roommate. But I’ve always been capable of making bad decisions on my own.
“Not to interrupt,” says the used-to-be-a lawyer from behind his desk and book, “but hexes pay the most, and we needed to get our dishwasher fixed.”
“You hexed me because you needed to get your dishwasher fixed?” I ask Josie.
“Poe says stupid people pay more,” she says. “And I charged your ex double.” I have to hand it to her, she’s both confirming that she fucked me over and doing it in a way that butters me up.
“What hex did you put on me?”
She waves a hand, “Oh, you know, a simple hex. You’re lucky he came to me. He wanted to dabble in some very dark magic, but I told him it was above his price range.”
“Couldn’t you have just pretended to do it?” I ask, sounding as petulant as a child.
She gives me a high and mighty look, then pushes her glasses up her nose with her middle finger. “I have professional integrity, you know. Besides, Bryan told me you poured lemon juice into his milk. I’d want to hex someone if they did that to me.”
Used-to-be-a-lawyer flinches behind his desk. “Yeah, that’s cold. He said he poured himself a whole glass and got two sips in before he realized it. I had to wonder why he took that second sip, but hey…” He lifts his hands.
“Stupid people pay better,” Josie repeats.
“His name’s Byron,” I say with a sigh.
Josie makes a pinched face, as if she drank that soured milk. “You’re the one who slept with him, you know. We didn’t force you to sleep with a man named Byron. That was your own doing.”
“Let’s move on from that part,” Delia says, even though I’m pretty sure she agrees with ninety percent of what was just said. “What can she do to break the hex?”
Josie puffs her lips out. “Well…you could throw around some black salt or do a magic mirror spell.”
“Would those things really work?” I ask, fascinated despite myself.
“I don’t know. I saw them on Google. But they sound kind of cool.”
“Cool?” I lift my busted ankle. “Does this look cool?”
Josie stares at it for a moment, seemingly transfixed, then turns to the used-to-be-a-lawyer with shining eyes. “It worked, Poe. I’m a golden god.”
“You’re a goddess,” he says, giving her a look that says he’d enjoy it very much if they could finish what they started before I came in.
“Wow, thanks a lot,” I say. “Can you be less successful the next time you hex an innocent woman?”
She lifts a finger. “I could have put a darker hex on you.”
“Look,” I say, “I’m not even sure why I’m so pissed. I don’t believe in hexes.”
Josie gives me a knowing look, then taps her fingers to the middle of her forehead.
“What is it?” Shauna asks, her tone bemused. “I can tell there’s something you’re dying to say.”
“You don’t need to believe in a hex in order for the hex to believe in you.” There’s a self-satisfied air to her, as if she just said something brilliant.
“Seriously?” I say. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You need to open your mind,” Josie says with another tap to her temple.
“I’m more alarmed by Byron going to such extremes to try to hurt me,” I say. “Where’d he get the hair?”
The thought makes me shudder. Did he cut a lock of my hair at night? How fucked up is that? I can practically feel my sister freaking out, too, so I reach over and take her hand. Squeeze it. She squeezes back and doesn’t let go.
