CHAPTER 6
All sales on cursed items are final.
“YOU OWE ME VICTOR Grimsley,” Alice lectured through the speaker of my phone.
Cam and I had just sat down at the kitchen table over some coffee and pancakes smothered in honey the following morning when Alice had called me practically begging to cash in her favor.
And it had only been two days.
“Yeah, but why today?” I questioned. “Cam and I have big plans that you’re asking me to put on the back burner.”
We didn’t. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do today. Cam was giving me a curious look mid-bite, and I smiled, mouthing “we don’t” before plopping another pancake onto his plate.
“Big plans?” she echoed disbelievingly. “He’s been reanimated for two days, Vic, you proposing already?”
I snorted, “Town Hall is open until five today. Never too late.”
That made Cam drop his fork with a clink, and I chuckled, picking it up and handing it back to him.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Mandy saw Wicked Wares posted some new pics on their social media. One of them had the vintage Cochura dining set she’s been looking for for years.
They have it; it’s genuine, and the shop’s owner guarantees it’s haunted!
We both work and I’m swamped today. It’s sure to be gone by the time we get off.
If you do this for me, I’ll consider your favor paid. ”
“Wicked Wares? Is that a thrift store?” Cam asked, interest piqued.
He seemed eager, almost excited. We didn’t have anything planned anyway, and I loved thrifting. Cam might find something he liked too, so it was a win-win. Thrifting, especially at Wicked’s, came with its risks.
But that was the fun of it.
Like cursed-heirloom roulette.
I sighed dramatically, loud enough I knew Alice could hear it. “I don’t know, Ali Cat. I don’t feel like getting cursed again.”
“Again?” Cam parroted. I gave him a charming grin.
“You’d love it and you know it,” she accused. “You’re a slut for cursed objects.”
I shoved a big bite of pancake into my mouth, talking through a mouthful, “Rude, but not incorrect.”
“Come on, Vic,” she pleaded, no, whined.
I hummed as if in serious mental debate. I had already decided to go, but I enjoyed making Alice squirm. What were best friends for?
However, I underestimated her. I hadn’t anticipated that she would resort to dirty threats.
“If you don’t do this, I’m telling Cam right now about the time I drove you to the doctor because you managed to give yourself a three-day boner when you tried that botched Viagra potion-”
“Hey hey hey,” I interrupted, rushing to turn my phone off speaker as Cam became very interested in what Alice had to say.
“Wait, I want to know-” he began before I cut him off,
“Fine. Just please shut up. And never bring that up again.” I took several steps away from Cam before hissing quietly so I was certain he couldn’t hear, “And it was an aphrodisiac tonic.”
Her answering cackle made me pinch the bridge of my nose before she wheezed and asked, “So, you’ll go then?”
“Maybe,” I said before she squawked in outrage and I hung up the phone. I strode back over and plopped into my seat across from Cam.
A text notification immediately pinged, and I read Alice’s message: “I’ll tell him. Try me, bitch.”
Chuckling, I sent her a quick heart emoji with a message saying that I would go get her Mandy’s fancy cock chura dishes.
She replied with, “It’s an antique Cochura dining set, you uncultured swine,” followed with a kissing face emoji and a picture of the dishes. I couldn’t see the appeal; they looked like any old-fashioned dishes. They were black though, so I guessed they were kinda cool.
I looked up to find Cam watching me.
“I like her,” he said with that teasing grin.
“Just wait till you meet her,” I grumbled. “You’ll be singing a different tune.”
His laugh was warm, eyes sparkling. “You seem close.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We haven’t known each other long. Met her shortly after I moved here, but we’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Plus, she knows too many of my dirty secrets so it's too late to toss her.” I smiled fondly.
“And she told you about me?” he asked.
“For which I am indebted to her more than she ever needs to know,” I admitted. “She’d demand my soul as compensation.”
There was a stretch of silence that followed. Not awkward or heavy, just companionable. Intimate.
“I am... very grateful,” he said softly. “I would like to meet her. To thank her properly.”
I swallowed, somewhat thickly. “I want you to meet her too. And you will. But for today, ‘wanna go thrifting at a cursed antique shop?”
“Is that even a question?” he replied before finishing his breakfast with gusto. He then stood and leaned down to grab my empty plate for me and whispered directly into my ear,
“But I would still like to hear all about this supposed aphrodisiac tonic of yours.”
***
An hour later, I was parking outside of Wicked Wares, the building tucked among a long stretch of other small shops and offices on Main Street.
The shop didn’t open until ten, so Cam and I hadn’t had to rush to get ready.
Today he had chosen a pair of black ripped jeans with a navy-blue flannel that truly made his eyes pop.
And, of course, the Converse sneakers. I’d sewn the little Jinxs into the sides of them for him, and they didn’t look nearly as good as the ones I owned, but Cam seemed to love them all the same.
Although, the black boots I’d found for him would have looked badass with the outfit too.
He’d styled his hair, the long dark strands brushed to the side in a swooping wave that made his high cheekbones more prominent.
I had gone with a burnt orange turtleneck and a blue scarf that, accidentally I might add, matched Cam’s shirt.
It was completely unplanned, but I’d thought it was cute.
Plus, Cam’s face had lit up when he’d noticed, so I’d kept it.
Dark jeans and my own Converse tied it together and damn if we didn’t look like one of those disgustingly adorable couples that went out in coordinated couples’ outfits.
I loved it.
We got out of the car and I put some coins in the parking meter, figuring an hour was plenty of time to wander around the shop.
The store itself was nestled between a psychic palm reader and a phone repair store.
A few spots down on the corner was a coffee shop that I liked to frequent.
I actually planned on taking Cam there on one of our dates.
I looked up and observed the crooked sign that read “Wicked Wares” and beneath it was a smaller sign: “Eclectic Antiques, Cursed Relics, and Haunted Heirlooms.”
The building, like many of the others lining Briarwood’s main streets, was two stories of old, worn bricks and aged windows.
The town was technically considered historic, built somewhere around the late seventeen-hundreds.
Large display windows sat on either side of a recessed wooden door with chipped red paint.
Decorating the displays was a variety of objects and antiques; they were even themed for Halloween.
Although, this shop was thematically spooky all year round so... I guessed it was just extra spooky?
The lock on my car chirped and Cam followed me up the short stairs. As he pulled open the door for me to enter, the bell above chimed welcomingly.
The shop itself was more deep than it was wide, the front an open floor with tables and a shelves displaying everything from stuffed animals and toys to kitchenware, picture frames, knickknacks, clothes, furniture, books, and everything in between.
The back comprised of several rows of shelves pressed tightly together and crammed with all manner of things.
A metal staircase rose up in the dead center in a spiral directly to the second floor.
Off to the right sat an old-fashioned wooden counter and yet another sign that I read aloud.
“Most cursed and haunted items are labeled. Touch at your discretion. Wicked Wares is not responsible for any accidental hexes, latchkey ghosts, or loss of fingers or limbs.”
“Most items?” Cam asked, sounding rather dubious.
“Latchkey ghosts? Seems like they should make you sign a waiver or something,” I deadpanned.
“We used to,” said a bored, flat voice.
I turned and saw an older gentleman striding from between the shelves. He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, shoulders slightly hunched with age. He wore an old-fashioned fedora over short gray hair and suspenders over a simple dark green button-up, its sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“Led to too many lawsuits, believe it or not. Now we just put up the sign.”
“Isn’t that backwards?” I asked.
The man just shrugged, “I’m no lawyer. So, how can I help you? Looking for anything specific or just browsing? If you’re looking for items with certain curses, we have the known ones alphabetized.”
“Why would we want something with a specific curse?” Cam asked with that curious, adorable-as-fuck head tilt.
He gave a careless wave. “Jackass boss, a family member that pissed you off one too many times, annoying neighbor, cheating boyfriend named Tim... Take your pick.”
Cam and I shared a look before I shook my head. “Um, no. Thank you. We’re actually here for the cock harucha plates.”
When he only gave me a confused look, I sighed and pulled out my phone. I clicked on the photo that Alice had sent me to show him, and his eyes widened in realization.
“Oh, the Cochura dining set. Yes, a young woman called me as soon as she found out we came into possession of it. A beautiful set indeed, and one hundred percent authenticated haunted.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “She asked me to get it for her. Do you still have it?”
He grunted in confirmation, “Indeed. It’s displayed over here. Right this way.”
“God bless for small miracles,” I mumbled.
We followed his wiry hunched form to a series of shelves situated beside the checkout counter.