Chapter 14
J ericho
This situation is bizarre. I sip my coffee and watch the scene unfold from behind the mug rim. I even forget about my digit throbbing with pain after the friendly chat with Moon.
I didn’t like the douchebag the moment she mentioned his name and the role he played in Nora’s life, but once he entered the diner, a next level wave of loathing came over me.
The whole atmosphere in the diner shifted the moment he showed his face.
He’s clearly not welcome here but keeps missing the memo.
The way he walked in and took the spot at the counter.
The way he spoke to Nora. The way he looked at her.
Everything irked me. The dude is bad news, Moon was right.
My suspicions were confirmed when a waitress walked up to play tricks on him. I have a feeling she came to save Nora. I thought that maybe my witch was still hung up on him, but judging by the current situation, it might be the opposite. Interesting .
The douchebag, Dick , lost some of his bravado after the dark-haired waitress spilled coffee on him and accused him of having dick problems, which was hilarious and made me think that he actually does have issues. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he just brush it off?
He’s sitting a chair away from me, totally focused on Nora who’s moving around the diner.
His beady eyes are trained on her every single movement while she’s fluttering between the tables and talking to people.
Every time she bends over to get something from under the counter, his pig eyes turn shiny as they focus on her behind. And this alone makes my skin crawl.
When she runs to the kitchen and comes close to us, he pulls himself up, leaning his torso on the counter.
“How have you been, Nora? You look exhausted. What’s all this gnome-mining crap you’re piling onto yourself? You look like a Christmas tree.” He leans back, smugness oozing from his every pore. He’s acting like he’s conquered her territory, a space where she should feel relaxed and at home.
My hand clenches into a tight fist on my thigh, knuckles whitening with the force of my grip.
Nora’s shoulders snap into a rigid stance as she hesitates momentarily before heading to the kitchen. She returns with a loaded plate and strides over to me, determination in her every step.
“Here you go.”
A mighty plate of steaming meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and veggies looks especially delicious to someone who’s been surviving on Hot Pockets for the majority of his life, and my mouth waters. Grabbing a fork placed next to me, I pull the plate closer.
“Grandma approved?” I ask, trying to take her mind off the douchebag to my left.
“One hundred percent,” she replies, her voice taking on a hint of relief .
“That is mine,” chimes in the dick .
I slowly turn my head toward him only to be met with an annoyingly quirked eyebrow like he is the one finding the situation annoying.
“Can I help you?” I ask in the calmest voice possible, even though I want to grab him by his neck and smack his face into the counter. Multiple times.
“Mmm, yeah.” He nods at my plate. “That is mine.”
Keeping my steady voice, I point at the plate and ask, “This one?”
“Yes.” His voice turns challenging, and it sounds ridiculous. Where is he going with this? “I’m a regular here, so my order is priority.”
“Dick,” Nora starts, but I stop her with a raised hand, silently begging her not to interfere.
I hate people like him in general, been dealing with them since my early twenties, and knowing that he hurt Nora—and keeps hurting her by the looks of it—makes me wish he’d start something right here and right now, so I can rearrange his face along with his fucking quirked brow.
“Now, Dick.” I accentuate his name. “You want this delicious meatloaf? This steaming plate of goodness that got delivered to me instead of you?”
His eyes flicker down to the plate for a second before returning to my face with newfound confidence. “Yes. That plate is mine.”
“Okay,” I reply nonchalantly, making his eyes shine with the idea that he’s won.
Then I dip two fingers into the steaming meatloaf, nearly burning myself, pull them out, and send them straight into my mouth.
“Mmm, delicious.” Pushing the plate a few inches in his direction, I lean toward him.
“Then come and take it. Dick.” I say it in the steadiest voice possible, keeping my sole attention on his face.
The prick sizes me up with a quick glance before shifting his gaze to the plate, probably trying to figure out if it’s worth getting his ass beat over.
Dick is as big as I am, but I doubt his mass has come from living through years of trying to survive or from carrying wood logs or building houses with bare hands.
He’d end up on the floor with a bleeding nose and maybe a broken bone or two.
Let’s see if Dick is smart enough to know it.
With a loud sigh, he pushes the coffee mug away so fast, it topples over the opposite edge of the counter and falls to the ground, shattering loudly in the heavy silence that follows.
“I’m not going to eat in a place where trash is served.” With that, he pushes away from the stool and walks away.
Not sure which he meant by ‘trash’—me or the food—but Dick is far too small to care about his opinion. So I grab the fork, pull the plate to me, and start eating.
Two bites in, I realize that people still aren’t talking. Then suddenly the commotion returns to the busy diner. The other waitress, Karina, starts cleaning the mess, but not before she gives me a very obvious wink. Nora goes to help, but the girl shoos her away.
“Go, deal with that. I think I just got pregnant and need to recover. Go take care of your own eggs,” she adds with a cackle, making Nora roll her eyes so far back in her head I fear she might have permanent damage.
By ‘that’ I suspect she means me, and I have no idea what she means by getting pregnant. Is that some sort of code? And why on earth is everyone talking about Nora’s eggs?
My witch’s movements are careful and slow when she approaches the side I’m occupying. She leans toward me a bit, resting her elbows on the counter.
“Your dinner,” she points at my plate, “is on me.”
“Why?” I ask with a mouth full of food.
“Because seeing Dick swallow his tongue was priceless.”
“That was Dick swallowing his tongue?” I ask with a raised brow, because the douchebag sure had a lot to say even departing the premises .
Karina snorts from somewhere under the counter, clearly getting a quick kick from Nora because she lets out a squeak and punches her back.
Their brawl looks like a playful interaction between siblings, and I know they are not.
From what I’ve heard, Nora has only one sister, Cheryl.
The local cop. I can see how this friendly atmosphere between staff would attract the locals. It sure draws me in.
It’s the atmosphere that called me in today, nothing else.
“Thank you, but I prefer to pay.”
“Consider it a welcome gift. To the neighborhood.” With a playful wink, she goes to grab a coffee pot and starts moving around the diner, refilling coffees.
Everywhere she goes, she’s greeted with a friendly face, and for every single person she has a smile and something to say. I can’t exactly hear what she says to each person, but their faces brighten up every time she starts talking.
I inhale the food without even realizing how fast I’m eating—it’s that good.
I see now why Dick wanted to fight me for it.
Too bad for him he’d never win, especially now, when I know the taste of this food.
And when the witch has served it to me. I’m on my last bite when a piece of Boston cream pie is placed in front of me.
Shameful to admit that even after such a giant portion, I still have room for this not-so-small piece of pie.
“Thanks,” I mumble to Nora, pulling the pie closer.
“The best in Maine,” she says, then adds in a conspiratorial voice, “Don’t tell Marina from Little Hope.”
We don’t speak for the rest of my meal, with her moving about and working and me quietly eating my pie, slower this time.
But I feel her presence at all times. Funny how I don’t know where the other waitresses are, even when Karina almost makes me jump when she walks up to me from the side and grabs the plate.
I’m always aware of my surroundings, always.
But looks like this witch has completely taken over my attention.