Kennedy cracked open the cover. A musty scent drifted upward. She flipped through the pages. "Holy crap, it's a real love spell. A chant to Earth Mother. Hysterical."
Arilyn snorted. "Spells are just imaginative ways of trying to control our future when we feel completely lost and misguided."
"I dare you to try it," Ken threw out.
Arilyn looked at her like she'd gone nuts. "What? I don't need a love spell, I'm perfectly fine in my current relationship. Gen, Jane, and Kate are engaged. You, my dear, are the one who needs to find Mr. Right."
Jane giggled. "Remember when you were young and you did the Ouija board thing? We always gave triple dog dares to try to conjure up dead celebrities." She gave a mock shiver. "Those things creep me out. I'm scared of them."
Gen shrugged. "If I wasn't engaged I would give it a shot. Go ahead, Ken. I triple dog dare you."
Ken pushed the book to the side of the table. "I think true love has stolen your brain cells."
"Oh, come on. We don't do anything crazy anymore."
Kate chuckled. "Remember when we smoked that joint from my mom while we watched 9 to 5?"
Arilyn hiccupped. "That was hysterical. Half of the night is one fuzzy, pleasant blur."
"Hey, you cut me out of that one," Gen said indignantly.
"You were working," Kate reminded. "Plus it's illegal. We can get away with stuff like that--we're not doctors."
"Oh. Well, then I get a do-over. Let's do something tonight."
Kate laughed. "Like what? Drugs are out, I'm done breaking the law for a while. We're already drinking. And it's not like we can streak naked through the streets of Verily."
"Hmm, that's not a bad one," Kennedy muttered.
"Not going to happen."
"Let's all do the spell together!" Gen shouted.
Kate pressed her fist to her lips. Closed her eyes. Then whispered, "I did it."
Ken stared. "Did what?"
"The spell. I completed the love spell."
"Before Slade?"
Kate nodded. "Yep. Not that I think it has anything to do with me and Slade ending up together, but it was a bit weird. So I'm not doing it again."
Jane laughed. "I'm not doing it either. I'm head over heels for Tim, and I don't want to screw it up."
Gen waved her hand in the air. "I'm happy too, but I'll do it. Arilyn? Ken? You in?"
"You want to do it here?" Ken asked. "Now?"
"Sure. Read it aloud and tell us what we need."
Arilyn nibbled on her lower lip. "I don't know about this. I really don't believe in the occult or spells or false deities."
"Come on, A, please? For me?"
Arilyn seemed to notice Gen's excitement over doing something silly and girly, and finally nodded. "Okay, I'm in."
"Yes! What do we need to do?"
Kennedy flipped through the pages. "We need two sheets of paper each to make a list of all the qualities we need and want in our soul-mate. We burn one, then go home and slip the other under the mattress." She paused, reading through the rest of the short book. "Then we chant something to Earth Mother." She recited the words.
"That doesn't sound bad," Arilyn remarked. "Like a blessing and gratitude to the earth. I can do that."
Gen scrambled off the floor and disappeared down the hall. She returned with a paper, pen, and a tapered candle. "Kate, can you grab a pot from the kitchen?"
Jane laughed. "You guys are crazy."
Gen distributed the paper and pens. "Now everyone make their lists."
Kennedy spoke up. "It says not to think too long. Just trust your inner gut and write from the heart."
She bent her head and wrote the number 1. What did she want in a soul-mate? What did she need? With the pleasant buzz of the margaritas softening her barriers, and the comfort of her friends around her, she didn't try to rationalize or ponder too hard. She wrote down the qualities of the man she'd always dreamed of in her secret soul. Qualities no man could really possess, of course. But she played fair and didn't try to get around the instructions. After all, that was the main rule in a girl's game. Treat the game with respect no matter how silly you may think it is.
After they filled out both sheets of paper, Kate lit the candle and placed it inside the steel pot. "Okay, Ken, read out the chant and we'll put our papers into the fire."
She recited the short phrases, and Arilyn and Gen followed. Then the papers caught flame and shriveled to black. Little pieces flew and drifted into the air as the fire burned. Everyone watched in silence until the last of the paper disappeared.
Ken stuck out her little finger. "Pinky promise we all take the second sheet of paper and place it under our mattresses when we get home."
"Pinky promise," Arilyn said solemnly.
"Pinky promise," Gen said.
Ken dropped her hand. They all stared at each other, as if for one second they almost regretted the impulsive, juvenile actions of a love spell.
Almost.
Then Ken burst into laughter. Everyone followed, until tears streamed down her eyes and Gen swore she peed her pants.
A love spell.
As. If.
"YOU LOOK WEIRD, DUDE."
Nate stared at his brother. He was flanked by his two buddies from the job site, who were already wasted. Connor tipped back his third beer and studied him over the bottle. Nate reached for patience and responded. "Weird how?"
"You cut your hair. Chicks dig rocker hair. Now you look normal."
"Normal is good."
"I guess. And why do you have that stubble around your mouth? You coulda borrowed my razor."
Nate took a sip of his beer, wiped the table, and stared at the pretzels in the wooden bowl with trepidation before deciding to forgo them. He rarely succumbed to communal bowls of food. Too many people didn't wash their hands and as a result spread a crapload of germs. "It's a goatee. I'm growing it out on purpose."
His brother blanched. "You're not getting girly on me, are you, dude? Metrosexual or some stuff like that?"
"No. Just changing up my look before my mixer."
"Okay. Going to the gym is cool, though. You do weights?"
He avoided his brother's gaze. "Yep." No. I danced around like a girl to reveal my inner goddess. So humiliating.
"Good, gyms are great to hit up women. Any prospects yet?"
"Soon."
The waitress came back to the table. "Another round?"
Connor reached out and placed a hand on the curve of her denim-clad hip. "Absolutely, darlin', keep them coming. But make sure you come check on us often. I haven't seen such a beautiful face in a long time. You inspire me to be a better man."
Huh? That didn't even make sense. Wasn't that from Jerry Maguire or some chick flick? Nate waited for the scowl or her disgusted expression from such a lame line. Instead, she beamed and winked. "Part of my job, honey. Make sure you keep the tips coming, too."
Connor laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Saucy one. May have to ask her out."
Irritation hit. How the hell did his brother get away with this crap? Nate would've had a black eye and a pending harassment lawsuit by now. Kennedy would've killed him for such an approach. Was it just the bars? Maybe a different level of social interaction was expected at these establishments?
He decided to ask. "Hey, have you ever had a woman turn you down?"
His brother snorted. "'Course not. I keep telling you, Ned--ugh, Nate--just compliment their physical beauty and be direct. Women hate flowery shit, pussyfooting around, and a man who's afraid to make a move. Got it?"
No. "Yeah, got it."
Jerry clinked his bottle against Connor's. "Nice to see you here, Ned. Taking a break from rockets to slum with your brother?"
Connor punched his arm. "Call him Nate."
"Oh. K. Hey, I heard you put in the application for the supervisor position. What's that about?"
Connor shrugged. "I got the time in, know the jobs, and handle the men well. Why not?"
Jerry's brown eyes were shot with red. His laugh was a little slurred, and Nate couldn't say he cared for the guy, but he'd been Connor's friend and coworker for years. "Not for nothing, but Ed's going for the position. Might as well pull out now."
His brother stiffened. An expression of disappointment flickered over his face and was quickly replaced with something else. Something that made Nate suck in his breath.
Self-loathing.
"Oh, didn't know Ed wanted it. Maybe I should pull out."
Jerry slapped him on the back. "Yeah, he got that wrapped like a Christmas present, buddy. The foreman loves him, and he's got a college education in management. No need to waste your time."
"Why is it a waste of time?" Nate asked. "Connor has just as good a shot as Ed."
His brother studied his beer bottle. "Nah, Jerry's right. No need putting myself through the bullshit when it's already decided. Probably a lot of extra hours and responsibility. Who needs it?"
"Absolutely," Jerry agreed. "Did you snap up that pretty little thing already, Con? When are you going to learn to share and not hog all the women?"
"Part of my charm," Connor joked halfheartedly before lapsing into silence and nursing his beer. Nate sensed a shift of energy, a darkness that settled over him like a pissed-off spirit intent on a haunting. Funny, his brother always acted like he enjoyed his low-maintenance life. Refused to go for his degree at home, laughing as he gave his usual reasoning that there was only one brain in the family. When the hell had they become embroiled in stereotypes? It had been going on for so long that it was second nature--he even remembered his mother stating repeatedly that he had the brains and his brother the looks. Who was she to judge them? She'd left to pursue her own life and knew shit about them.
It seemed like all of Connor's confidence was directed only toward scoring with women. Maybe Nate could help turn it around. He spoke up. "Promise me you'll keep your application in for supervisor anyway. Forget about the competition."
His brother snorted. "Why bother? Don't worry about it."
"I'm serious. I've seen you on the site. You know how to relate well to the crew, you know scheduling, and you're smart."
His gaze swung around. A flicker of resentment shot at him. "No, I'm not. And I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"You think you can handle it, don't you?" Nate challenged, not willing to let up yet.
"Yeah. But Ed likes to wear those fancy suits and meet with the managers afterward. He's in the club. Got a degree. Talks smart like you. I'm not in his league, man."
Time for the big guns. "Con. Do me a solid."
His brother gasped. "No fucking way. You can't use a solid for that!"
"Yes, I can, there's no rules to it. Now you have to do it."
"That's like a pinky promise for girls! We did that years ago--you can't hold me to a solid."
Nate grinned. "I can and I just did. Do it or I'll call you a pussy for the rest of your life."
Connor glared. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Nate drained his beer. "Whatever. You want to pretend you're not scared to go after a big-time job, go ahead. Pussy."
"Fuck! Fine, I'll keep in for it. But no more solids after this one. I call the game completely off."
Nate bit back a satisfied chuckle. Got him. They'd been addicted to the Cartoon Network show Regular Show for years, and knew every episode by heart. When one of the characters on the show tells the other one to do him a solid, it was the ultimate dare. If you didn't take the challenge, you were termed "pussy" for the rest of your natural life.
He still remembered when his brother got him to drive around the block stark naked to prove no one paid attention on the road. Yeah. He'd proven his brother wrong on that, especially when the police came to the door from a 911 call tracking his plate.
Bastard.
His brother was pissed, but Nate could live with it.
He relaxed and drank his beer.
eight
ARE WE READY, ladies?"
They sat on stools at the Purple Haze bar in Verily. The bar was a mix between the casualness of Mugs and the upscale restaurant Cosmos. Done in various shades of violet, from the fabric seats to the walls, it was decorated in trendy glass, mirrors, and lights to give it a fresh feel. Computer monitors were set up along with large television screens and attracted the technology set who wanted to drink and not stray too far from their gadgets. It was popular with the after-work crowd, but Tuesday nights were pretty dead and would give them the privacy they needed to give this exercise the right atmosphere.
Kennedy waited for her friends to respond. It was a daring approach that had never been done before, and she was afraid they'd object. Kate and Arilyn shared a look, then firmly nodded.
"I would normally never help employ such tactics, but after what you've told us, I'm in," Arilyn said.
Kate sighed. "When I heard about poor Bernadette being confronted about approaching thirty, I wanted to bop him over the head myself." She gave an evil grin. "But this is so much better."
Kennedy laughed. "Remember, we start small and follow his lead. I don't want to terrify the guy, just get him to a point where he stops and thinks before he speaks. He has a good heart. Nate just listened to the wrong advice about how to deal with women, and we need to straighten him out. No one ever took the time to show him the right way. But he has a wicked sense of humor, he's smart and successful, and now he looks the part."
At that moment, Nate strolled through the door, surveyed the crowd, and seeing Kennedy from across the room, locked on his target. Her heart beat a bit faster in spite of herself, and her tummy slid, flipped, and settled. The sexy scruff on his face would make a woman itch to touch it, trace the lines of those full lips, look deep into his eyes. If she could spot them behind those glasses. She made a mental note: next up, contact lenses and a decent wardrobe. He wore his usual staple outfit: lab coat, shiny cheap pants, orthopedic-type shoes--did he have a foot problem she didn't know about?--and sported a trail of tiny circles of coffee splatters down the front of his shirt. But he never broke the gaze as he crossed the room and stood in front of them. "Hey."
She fought a smile at his usual brevity. "Hey."
"Sorry I didn't get to change. Nice to see you again, Kate. Arilyn."
Kate spoke up first. "I hope you're enjoying your journey here at Kinnections. Kennedy is a master at transforming clients and building confidence."
"Yes. She also would've been quite helpful torturing prisoners of war to make them speak."
Kennedy puffed up with sheer pride at Nate's backhanded compliment.
"Are you experiencing any difficulty in your path to true love?" Arilyn asked. "I can always book a session with you to help overcome any barriers."
"No, thank you. After a cracked-up Japanese warrior ripped up my body, a cranky gay man attacked me with scissors, and I got my ass handed to me by a Zumba session, I think I'm good. What's on today's agenda?"
Kate laughed. Kennedy shook her head. "Don't be so dramatic, it all worked out fine. We're going to do role-play. It seems that one of your limitations is social conversation."
"So I've been told."
"We're going to run through some simple first meets with different outcomes so you get more used to handling various women and topics of conversation."
"And to think I gave up a prostate exam for this."
"Why don't we warm up with a round of speed questions?"
Kate clapped. "I love that game. Like Jeopardy but better."
Nate cocked his head and considered. She bet he assumed he'd be good at the speed round since he was probably the trivia king. She smothered a laugh. He'd realize quickly how different this was.
"What's involved?"
"We throw out scenarios and you give us a quick answer. It's to build up your reflex ability to approach situations in the proper way without overthinking. Let's get you set up with a drink first."
"Darth Maultini, please."
> They stopped and stared. "A what?"
He shot them a suffering expression. "One ounce sweet vermouth, one ounce vodka, one ounce whiskey, two ounces pomegranate cherry, and two lemon wedges cut up and spread around the glass."
Kennedy's mouth dropped open. "You have got to be kidding me. How about a beer?"
Kate giggled. "No, I remember it. Got it covered. Star Wars junkie, huh?"
"A bit."
Kate ordered the drink while Kennedy fished out the contraption from her tote bag. "Now, we'll just slide this on you and get started."
"What the hell is that?"
Kennedy widened her eyes in the innocent doe look men died for. "A simple gadget that will be able to read your responses and catalog electrical sensors to correct behavior."
Nate took a step back as if she'd confronted him with a python. "It's a collar. A dog collar."
Arilyn spoke in her soothing, melodic voice that usually hypnotized her prey. "No, of course it's not a dog collar. Think of it as a band with a mini computer installed in order to sense bodily reactions and categorize behavior."
He pushed a hand through his hair and let out a half laugh. "Oh, you both are good. Brilliant, as a matter of fact. It's an electric dog collar. Put whatever spin you want on it. I'm not putting that thing on."
Kate slid his whacked-out martini drink across the bar. "The path to true love is never easy. You don't strike me as a quitter, Nate. And you may not have enjoyed what Kennedy threw at you, but take a few minutes and really think. Have the steps you completed worked? Do you feel better about yourself? Do you feel you grew as a person and are closer to finding your soul-mate?"
Kennedy shared a look with her friends. God, they were amazing together. Each of their assets and energy melded to cocoon their target to push them to goal. They waited. He stood perfectly still, studying them, thinking out every step, and then gauged the weapon she still held. Several minutes ticked by.
"Fine."
She didn't hesitate. Kennedy slid the slim leather collar around his neck, closed the clasp, and tugged his shirt up so most of it was covered. The controller was hidden in her tote for the moment. No reason to freak him out more or warn him of what was about to happen. The element of surprise was key, and if she explained too much, he'd walk out without a backward glance.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Relax, we'll start easy. I'll begin. Do I look fat in these pants?"
He blanched and choked on his drink. "Those types of questions? Are you kidding me? You're setting me up for failure."