#scenebreak
“Foxtrot?” Corey’s voice was hard to mistake. He dashed around his Challenger and ran up the walk toward me. “Bro, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a ride home, but Katy. . .”
I dropped my duffle on Auntie Mac’s front porch. “No worries, dude. She’s priority number one, right now.”
He nodded a lot. Then he stared at me. A lot.
“So. . . You just stopped by to apologize?”
He shook his head. A lot.
So I waited.
“Look,” he said at last, “I don’t want to drag you into anything.”
I waved it off. “Drag away.”
Fortunately, the unfortunate double entendre soared over his head. “You’re new to town, and you’re smart, so I figure you might help me figure out who’s after Katy, you know, from a different angle.” He made a number of cross-cutting motions with his hands, which, I presumed, were meant to illustrate his point.
It actually made sense. Someone new would have a more detached perspective. “It’s all I can think about,” I admitted. I led him over to a couple of wicker chairs on the porch. Jasmine wafted everywhere from the vines that spilled off the porch roof.
“Katy doesn’t want to talk about what happened,” he said. “She wants to pretend it’s no big deal, but, bro, this doesn’t happen out here.” His face told me he was hurting over the whole thing. “I mean, some of the other little towns get the occasional beatdown on a bum or something, you know, assholes out joyriding? But here? In Dumass?” He pronounced it the way it was spelled. “This is once every five years stuff, and with Sheriff Olmos out of town—”
I patted the air with both hands to slow him down. “Okay, so let’s think about who it could be.” I rubbed my face. I watched reality TV. “Think of the quiet guys. Guys who don’t date much, who stick to themselves.”
He laughed. “That’s K-pop.”
“What?” The fact the Korean boyband wannabe was the first name out of his mouth surprised me.
He shrugged. “Quiet. Keeps to himself. Kind of a loner.”
“He’s on the dance team.”
He waved his hands around. “I know. But. . . he keeps to himself.” His brow furrowed. “Plus, he’s been kinda weird the last couple of days. I tried talking to him and he kinda blew me off.”
The skinny kid with Vash the Stampede hair didn’t seem to fit the profile. He called attention to himself with the way he dressed, but I was here to keep an open mind. “Okay. So K-pop maybe.”
“Except. . .”
I waited.
“Well, Juicy’s convinced he’s gay.”
My whole body rattled. “What?”
He sighed. “The way he ran over to you when you showed up yesterday. She thought he was totally crushing on you.”
I thought back. “No,” I said, “I’ve had guys totally crush on me and it’s different. He was just glad to see someone. . . new.”
His face scrunched up a moment, then he chuckled. “Well, you’d know better than me.”
Oh yeah. I was gay. Deep breath. “Who else?”
“Well, I still think it has to be someone on the football team.”
Because of the dick comment. Hm. How to say it. “Corey, I think when he said, ‘a big prick,’ he meant more like a big jerk than a compliment about your. . .” For some reason, I couldn’t say it. I gestured at his crotch with both hands.
The brow furrowed, then the eyes opened wide. “Ohhhhhh.” Then they furrowed again. “Well, that’s just mean.”
Poor thing. “Well, we are talking about someone who trashed Katy’s car.”
He nodded and dropped his head in his hands. “Ff-frm.” That’s what it sounded like.
“Huh?”
He looked up. “Ephraim,” he said. “Quiet. Shy. No girls. As far as I know, his only friend is Woody.” His face lit up. “And he’s on the football team.”
Utter shock. “He’s. . . kinda small for the football team.”
Corey shrugged and looked around as if Ephraim might be lurking behind the Jasmine. “He doesn’t play much, but he really works hard. It means a lot to him, being on the team.” Bless his heart. I heard it.
I opened my hands wide in submission. “I’m sorry, Corey, I just don’t know any of these guys well enough, yet.”
“But you’ll help?”
“Well, fuck yeah.”
He grinned at my enthusiasm, then jumped to his feet. He actually shook my hand. “You are the best thing to happen to this town in a long time.”
Oh. crap. Could he have said anything to make me feel worse?
six
Twist propped his book open with a couple of rubber bands and laid it on the kitchen counter. Black candles lit the room with a flickering, shadowy glow. . . which made reading nearly impossible, so he turned on the light over the sink. Better.
In a stone bowl, he mixed bay leaves, marjoram and verbena leaves. He added oil to the mix and ignited it with a candle. While the herbs burned, he twisted a lock of Katy’s hair that he’d stolen from a brush in her bedroom. He’d been so tempted to steal clothes from her laundry basket because they smelled like her sweat, but she’d have noticed that. It would have put her on her guard.
After checking the book, he chanted Fox’s name while tying a knot in the hair.
Tying a knot in a girl’s hair was harder than the book made it seem. He had to add more bay leaves to keep the fire burning. When the hair was knotted, he dropped it into the fire. “Shiva, destroy the power of my rival.”
Christ that stank. No wonder he’d been told to light incense.
The fire burned itself out. According to the book, Fox’s hold over Katy was null and void.
And Twist had plenty of Bay leaves and marjoram left over to bake a chicken.
He thought about the blonde slut from Austin. There had to be a way to use her, too. A way Fox couldn’t refuse her. He dug through his bookmarked sites. Hm. Maybe a spell to ensure her good fortune? It would certainly help Twist if she got lucky.