45 Birdie
BIRDIE
Look, I’ve worked a lot of odd jobs in my life.
I’ve been a nanny and a maid. I’ve waited tables, worked retail.
I’ve cleaned gutters and raked leaves. All noble work.
But not really all that odd. No, I’m talking about weird jobs.
Like in high school when I worked at a fish hatchery and I had to meticulously count fish all day.
Or the summer I worked as the assistant to a woman who professionally organized closets.
The clients were all rich assholes, but they tipped well.
As a college freshman, I fell backwards into some part-time work as a line stander.
Those were some odd freaking jobs.
But nothing in my past experience has quite prepared me for the trials of working in a tarot and tea shop for a boss who is pretending to be dead. A boss who is also a witch and who is now haunting the back storage closet.
Hortie is busy consoling all the teary-eyed locals coming in to ask questions about Jasper’s sudden demise.
That leaves me to try and keep a chipper attitude, welcoming the flood of tourists who just arrived on the first ferry.
I’m gift-wrapping candles while trying to answer questions about crystals, tripping over Pickles, and fighting with the ancient cash register.
All the while, Jasper hides in the back playing dead.
Pushing my way through the employees only door, I step into the storage room and let out a breath. “Hey, a customer is wondering if we have any more reiki gloves.”
“Nope,” he calls from his spot at the computer.
“And we can’t order any in?”
“We don’t sell reiki gloves.”
“Right.” I almost trip over a box on the floor as I head back out. Huffing, I push it aside with my foot. “You know, if any friendly ghosts wanted to lend a helping hand by unpacking some of these boxes, I’m sure we wouldn’t complain.”
“That’ll be tough seeing as ghosts aren’t corporeal.”
Stepping up behind him, I grab him by the hair and pull his head back. “Yeah? Well, you are.”
The jerk just grins.
Leaning over, I steal a kiss before letting him go.
It hasn’t even been a week, but it feels natural to touch him, kiss him.
The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to display a little more caution.
But then he looks at me, growls at me—heck, just breathes in my general direction—and I’m taking my pants off and crawling in his bed.
I woke up this morning wrapped around him like bark on a tree.
Speaking of trees . . .
Yes, I felt it. All of it. Long, and hard, and pressed against my ass all night. But he’s not pushing and I’m not rushing. I’m also not waiting. Let’s face it, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
He nods over his shoulder towards the chaos. “How’s it going out there?”
Using this as an excuse to take a quick break, I lean against the wall. “Locals are sad you died. I think Hortie is planning an island-wide wake in your honor.”
“Fuck.” He turns back to his computer.
“Do you have a plan to get out of this?”
“Out of what?”
“Out of being dead. I mean, you don’t want to stay dead forever, right? Once you defeat Ludmilla, are you working on a plan to stage your miraculous resurrection?”
“I’m taking my hurdles one at a time,” he replies, eyes still on the computer.
I glance over his shoulder at the screen. “You’re researching ground penetrating radars?”
“Yeah. Do you know anything about these?”
“A little. I’m an archive historian, not an archaeologist. But I got to use one once on a dig in New Mexico.”
He turns in his chair to look up at me. “Do you think you could use one again?”
I sigh. “Still set on turning your new initiate into a treasure-hunting grave robber? Not very noble of you, high priest.”
“I think it’s exceptionally noble,” he counters. “We’re in the right here, Birdie. Howe has no claim to what my ancestors buried out there. And Ludmilla will only use whatever he finds for ill. I need you to do this for me . . . for the coven.”
“For the coven,” I murmur, looking back at the computer.
Reaching out, he taps the screen. “Howe has one of these machines, but it’s broken. I was thinking maybe we get our hands on one before he gets his fixed. Between this and the journal, you should be able to find the bodies, right?”
“Hmm . . . maybe. Howe’s is broken, you say?”
“Yeah.”
I quickly consider the options. “In that case, he’ll probably just go to the university and rent one.”
Jasper sits up straighter. “The university has these?”
“Yeah, the anthropology department should. One or two, I would think. Summers can be tough because they’re in high demand with everyone doing research. They could all be rented already.”
Turning in his chair, he reaches out, pulling me in between the spread of his legs. His large hands frame my hips. “Could you check?”
“It’s not actually my department. I’m in history, remember?” At his frustrated look I smooth a hand through his hair. “I’ll ask around, okay? I bet I know someone in their grad program who could rent one for us.”
He nods, squeezing my hips. “Do it. Soon as you can.”
Before I can respond, Hortie shrieks from the front of the store. “Birdie! Help! This line is reaching all the way to the Cat’s Meow!”
By ten in the morning, the flood of tourists finally eases.
Most of them are making their way to the cafés for brunch or starting on their day of planned outdoor activities.
We’ve only got four people left in the shop.
Two older ladies sit at a table enjoying a trio taster of teas, while a young Korean couple checks out the dream journals in the back room.
Hortie sits at the counter, measuring some of the loose-leaf tea into sachets. “Birdie, dear?”
I pause in my watering of the window plants. “Yeah?”
“Since there’s a lull, I might pop out for a quick spot of coffee. Can I bring you anything?”
I can’t help but sigh. A literal wall of tea waits behind her and she wants to leave during her shift to get a coffee? Phoebe did warn me that Hortie can be a handful. I decide not to fight it. “Sure. I guess a flat white would be nice.”
She slips off her stool and steps around the tea counter, her cherry red kaftan flowing around her ankles. She’s paired the bold color with a bubblegum pink lipstick. And her glasses today are large, square, and bright tangerine.
I wasn’t sure of the dress code so I’m in a dress too.
Mine is a simple summer thing, green striped linen with thin shoulder straps.
I paired it with a chunky knit cardigan and my ass-kicking boots.
Jasper caught me unawares in this shop once before.
I won’t let it happen again. Never know when a girl might need to kick some serious ass.
Hortie waves me off at the front door with a call of, “Pickles is in charge!”
The cat peeks his head up, watching her shuffle past in the front window glass. With a big yawn, he stretches and rolls back up into a ball, quickly falling asleep. Honestly, as far as managers go, I’ve definitely had worse.
Leaving the watering can in the window, I make my way behind the register.
I was halfway through organizing a tray of crystals when the rush started.
I take the fresh stock from their little baggies, adding them to the appropriate trays.
Sodalite for communication. Citrine for brightness and positive energy.
I palm a small piece of red jasper. Strength, honesty, and stability.
The witch lives up to his namesake. Closing my hand around the little stone, I slip it in my pocket.
I don’t know what makes me do it. I guess I just want a piece of him close to me. I’ll make sure it comes out of my pay.
Between these and the teas, I have, like, a thousand things to memorize.
Customers have extended a lot of grace when I said today was my first day.
But I can’t keep getting away with saying, “Um, I’m not sure.
Let me check!” I found a few books on crystals this morning that I’m planning to sneak back to the house with me for a little research.
The bell dings as the door opens.
“Hi, welcome in,” I call over my shoulder. “Dream journals are twenty percent off today. And all bath products are buy two, get one free. Let me know if you have any questions!”
A pair of high school–aged girls slip past me to the left, heading for the bath section. They all but ignore me, their gazes locked on their phones.
“Hello.”
I turn around too quickly and my hip hits the counter. Choking on a gasp, I fumble the bag of lapis lazuli in my hands. The bag drops to the floor and the stones scatter like marbles. “Oh—shit.” Like a total loon, I drop to my knees, disappearing behind the counter too.
The world’s most beautiful man just walked into the shop.
Okay, maybe not the most beautiful man. I mean, Jasper is beautiful. Tall and rugged, with those gorgeous grey eyes. But this man is also very handsome. Too handsome. Like, up to no good kind of handsome.
“Can I help?” he says in a deep voice, leaning over the counter.
“Oh, no, it’s fine!” Crawling on all fours like a cat, I scramble to pick up the little blue stones. I feel the heat of his gaze watching me. “Candles are on sale too! Feel free to browse!”
Before I can stop him, he steps around the counter and drops to one knee. “Here, let me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, not looking up. “I’m all thumbs today.”
Our hands brush as we sweep the scattered stones into a pile, and I swallow a gasp. One touch and I feel a yank in my chest that sends my heart racing. What the heck? Also, why am I holding my freaking breath? I let it out with a rushed “Really, you don’t have to help.”
He just hums. Scooping the stones into his hand, he helps me pour them back into the bag.
“It’s employees only behind the counter,” I ramble.
Oh my god, stop talking now.
He holds out the last stone, waiting for me to take it. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”