Witches on Parole: Unlocked

Chapter 21
Lizard sat down at her kitchen table and tried not to feel like she’d left her kidney with a stranger. Handing in her poetry journal had nearly killed her. Not handing it in and facing Freddie’s dark eyes would have been worse.

And a tiny voice in the back of her head kept insisting that’s why she’d written Freddie’s Bus in the first place. Because she wanted the world to know she was a poet, and his belief in her was the only damn thing on the planet that could have forced her to go public.

Yeah. Lizard Monroe, poet laureate. That seemed likely.

And man, her head hurt. Sometime last night, possibly before the bra burning and her crazy decision to actually hand in her journal, they’d consumed some very bad wine. Or maybe some good wine that tasted bad thanks to the mind magic—she’d never been good at using power while drinking.

Not that she’d been convinced a backyard bonfire was the smartest idea of all time, but it was one of those things you pretty much had to finish once you’d started. Kind of like handing in poetry journals. Halfway didn’t count.

“Morning.” Josh walked into the kitchen holding out a box. “Don’t shoot—I brought donuts.”

What, was there a sign on their front door saying “Come on in, we don’t mind?” Lizard started to scowl, and then remembered that was a totally ineffective tactic on this particular annoyance in her life. Instead, she pasted a grin on her face and grabbed the box. “How totally lovely. There are going to be ten half-naked women here soon, and I’m sure they’ll be thrilled the donut shop delivered. Thanks, goodbye, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Josh gaped. Then he grinned. And then he busted up laughing. All without actually letting go of the box of donuts.

Dammit, she was not playing tug-o-war over baked goods. Lizard let go of the box and stomped to the window. “Why are you here—did you lose your keys or something?”

“Nope.” He opened the donut box on the counter and took out something that made her traitorous stomach growl. “I wanted to talk to you about an investor meeting.”

“A what?” Lizard grabbed a cruller. Any sentence with “meeting” in it definitely deserved a donut.

“For the neighborhood-mapping project.” Josh reached for a napkin. “I’ve got some investors interested in talking to you.”

Okay, her head was going to officially explode. “Why do they want to talk to me—can’t you just show them the demo?”

He paused, hand stuck in the donut box. “We talked about this when you came to the office. People don’t just hand over a few hundred thousand dollars because they saw a prototype. They want to see who’s behind the idea.”

Her brain had stopped dead at “a few hundred thousand dollars.”

Josh was back on his donut-seeking mission. “You’re the creator, and you have great vision for where the project should go. Sit, talk with these guys for a bit, and you’ll be funded.” He grinned. “Then you hire us to execute.”

Yup. Still stuck. Lizard blinked and tried to unglue her fried circuits. “What the frack do you need hundreds of thousands of dollars for?”

“More than that. About three million, I figure.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a computer. “Here are some estimated start-up costs, sales projections, stuff like that. We’re good at that part, but you’re the ideas girl, so they’re going to want to talk to you.”

She’d never realized eyes could actually bug out of your head. “It’s just freaking maps. That I do on a computer in my spare time with free tools anyone with an Internet connection and a brain can use.” The numbers in the spreadsheet were mesmerizing, in a totally sick way. “Where do you find stupid suits who want to pay you lots of money for something anyone can do for free?”

Josh rolled his eyes and slammed the donut lid shut. “Okay. Then I’ll let you make your own donuts and take these away with me.”

“What?”

“You buy donuts. You buy bacon and eggs at the diner. Why? You could make them a lot cheaper here in your kitchen.”

He was so not a cook. “It takes hours to make donuts.”

“Exactly.” He grinned, clearly headed somewhere she wasn’t going to like. “How long does it take to make one of your maps?”

A freaking long time. And now the numbers on his spreadsheet were starting to mess with her head. “So people pay for fast and easy.”

“Every day.” He suddenly looked a lot more like one of those suit people. “Realtors are busy people, and selling a house brings in a big commission. You think they’re going to balk at a few dollars for a tool that will make their job easier?”

Not the smart ones. Lizard squinted at the numbers, taking them more seriously now. “You’re pricing this as a subscription service? Not a per-use thing?”

“That’s just a preliminary model. Those are the kinds of decisions you’ll need to work with us to make.”

“Me?” Okay, brain glue gone. “I can’t do this. I’m just the ideas girl, remember?” She waved at the computer. “Pay me for my idea, and then you can figure all this stuff out.”

“Could.” Josh grabbed what must be his fifteenth donut. “And if you were stupid, you might go along with it.” He plowed right over her growl. “We’d offer you about half a mil up front, all rights.”

Brain glue back. In triplicate.

“If you’re smart, you invest that capital back with us as lead partner in the project and walk away with ten times that in a couple of years.” He shrugged. “Up to you.”

Five million dollars. In two years. For some maps. No way. No fracking way.

Josh closed the donut box. “Lemme know. Jennie’s got a couple of people she thought might want to play too. I can set up the meeting anytime you’re ready.”

The bottom fell out of Lizard’s world. “What does Jennie have to do with this?” And how did Josh even know Jennie? This had smelled, right from the beginning. Now it stunk right to Witch Central heaven.

Josh’s eyebrows winged up at her tone. “Not much. We don’t need her at all if you don’t want, but I tend to try to meet potential investors before I tell them to take a hike.”

Brain glue was no match for the wrath of Lizard. She stood. She steamed. And then she mounted her charge. Even Josh was smart enough to get out of her way. She’d deal with him later—right now, she had a witch to go eviscerate. Nobody got to screw around with her like this.

~ ~ ~

Jennie could hear Lizard coming from halfway down the block. Furious mind witches made a lot of noise—and this one was making no effort to be quiet.

Something about donuts and people in suits.

Furious mind witches also didn’t tend to make a lot of sense.

Jennie tossed the laundry basket on the bed and headed for the door. At least it was a good excuse to get out of folding towels. She slid into a pair of flip-flops, and following instinct, grabbed her camera. She figured a smart witch went into battle well armed, and her lens had always been her best weapon.

She got to the front door seconds ahead of her fuming student and opened it wide. Lizard stormed in, wearing a tank top and smiley-face boxer shorts, half a donut still clutched in her hand. Jennie’s fingers itched mightily, but she was pretty sure that would get a camera shoved up her nose.

Well, they could always try small talk. “Good morning.”

“Like hell.” Lizard whirled, squished clumps of donut plopping onto the floor. “What were you thinking? Let the rich people offer to buy Lizard’s soul? And how the frack do you even know Josh in the first place?”

Oh, dear. Jennie still had very little idea what was going on, but for the last part, she was guilty as charged. “I invited him for coffee. Don’t blame him—I was the one being the busybody.”

“Oh, I have plenty to blame him for without that.” Lizard pounded the donut remains into a wall. “I’m not for sale, Jennie! Five million dollars or ten times that.”

Okay, this wasn’t about coffee. Jennie sent out a gentle mind probe and nearly got sizzled by Lizard’s white-hot barriers. “Forgive me if I’m a bit slow still this morning—what five million dollars are we talking about?”

“That’s how much Josh says I can make if I let the stupid suits you know invest in my maps.” Lizard gulped for air. “It wasn’t that long ago I could be bought for some food and a decent place to sleep. Maybe I still can. But what, you all sat down and made a plan for how to save Lizard from herself? Is Lauren in on this too?”

Jennie was catching up. Maybe. “That’s not what WitchLight is about, Lizard. The only one making plans for your life is supposed to be you.”

“Bullshit.” Lizard was back to pounding on the wall. “You read my mind, drop over all the freaking time with parties and friends and dress-up clothes. You pull strings to get me into college, listen outside my poetry classes—yeah, I knew about that. You two are really loud for eavesdroppers.” One more thunk on the wall. “Heck, for all I know, you sent Josh. Is he a set-up too?”

“You really think anyone tells Josh what to do?” Jennie couldn’t help it. Really, she couldn’t. Sometimes you just had to laugh. “Yes. We are guilty of caring about you. Of including you, and hopefully opening your eyes to a different world than the life you had where food and a decent place to sleep were the best you could hope for most days.” She sighed. “Heck, we’re probably guilty of meddling, too. But none of us is capable of the kind of deceit you’re accusing us of.”

“But you went to see Josh.” The wall punching seemed to be over, but Lizard wasn’t exactly mellow yet.

“I did.” Jennie closed her eyes and swallowed the yucky medicine. Words weren’t enough here, and she knew it. She dropped her barriers, letting Lizard read what she chose. “I’m a nosy old woman who wanted to lay eyes on this guy who had suddenly landed in your life.” A woman who loves you. Jennie didn’t say the last part. With her barriers down, she wouldn’t have to.

Lizard just looked, for the longest time. And when she finally spoke, it was in soft tones with her eyes to the ground. “He’s not a jerkwad.”

“I know.” And that was the worst of it. “I didn’t trust you enough, and I’m sorry for it.”

Lizard’s smile was lopsided and a little sad. “With my track record, I might not have trusted me either.”

“He’s a good guy.” Jennie reached for her student’s hand. “Now come back to the kitchen and tell me about the five million dollars.”

“Oh, crud.” Lizard stopped suddenly, real fear in her eyes. “You really didn’t know about that, did you.”

Jennie opened her mind again. No words necessary.

“Frack,” whispered Lizard, face white. “That means it’s real.”

Oh, it was real all right. And unlike Lizard, Jennie was pretty sure five million wasn’t a pie-in-the-sky number. She’d lay bets Joshua Hennessey would be aiming a lot higher than that—and money wasn’t even close to all he wanted.

He had serious guts. He’d just given Lizard five million reasons to tell him to go to hell.

~ ~ ~

It was the biggest check she’d ever written in her life. And Elsie was pretty sure the intended recipient was going to tell her to go to jump off a bridge. Or something worse.

However, that was a problem to worry about when she actually arrived at her destination—which was requiring ridiculously more effort than it should. Elsie cursed her shoes. Whoever had designed Helga’s four-inch heels had never intended for them to serve as actual walking footwear. However, she’d burned almost every other pair she owned. Her shopping spree hadn’t included many practical necessities like shoes or underwear.

A small oversight.

It paled in comparison to burning her bathrobe, though—especially when she’d walked downstairs in one very red silk nightie to find a strange man in her kitchen. Her lack of attire seemed to have gone fairly unnoticed, however—Josh had been far more concerned about where Lizard might have gone.

He was a very sweet man.

And a very smart one. In the space of three donuts, he’d explained who he was, why Lizard had run, and accepted Elsie’s offer of help.

The old Elsie Giannotto had liked helping people. And sitting at her kitchen table, listening to Lizard’s very real chance to reach for the stars and the moon, the new Elsie’d had a revelation.

She still wanted to help.

So over donut number two, she and Josh had hatched a plan. A smart, devious, daring plan—the kind that put all the weight of friendship and trust on the line and still left the final choice up to Lizard. It delighted Elsie down to her toes that the initial seeds of the idea had been hers.

Well, maybe not quite all the way down to her toes, since they’d gone completely numb. Three more houses to go until Jennie’s walkway, and her feet were pleading for deliverance.

Elsie promised them down booties and a pedicure if they’d deliver her. And whether it was bribery or sheer stubbornness, she made it to the front door.

Standing in front of the purple fairy-wing knocker brought back the strongest sense of déjà vu. Elsie remembered the day she’d first arrived at Jennie’s house, ready for her three months of service to others. She shook her head and grinned ruefully. One day, she and Vero were going to have a little chat about the WitchLight marketing brochure she’d been sent.

Oh, how unready she’d been for what lay ahead.

When Lizard yanked open the door, her sense of history repeating itself was complete. Even the wary scowl looked the same.

Then Elsie looked again and realized two momentous differences. One, her roommate no longer looked at all like a delinquent. She looked every inch the hip, artsy professional. Well, besides the scowl. And two—her eyes held welcome.

Lizard grinned. “Did you come to see the interfering old witch too?”

“I heard that,” called Jennie from the kitchen. “Come on back. If anyone else needs to yell at me, we’re at least going to eat breakfast first.”

Elsie was pretty sure three donuts were ample breakfast, but Lizard might be more willing to hear her out if there was food involved. She followed her roommate down the hall and grinned again, even as her feet howled in protest. One more thing that hadn’t changed—Lizard was still a master clomper.

Jennie looked up as she came into the kitchen. “You look lovely this morning. What’s the occasion?”

Elsie could feel even her hair blushing. “My wardrobe is a little skimpy at the moment.”

She had the strangest sense Jennie was laughing, even though her face hardly changed. “There are plenty of willing bodies in Witch Central if you want shopping company.”

“Maybe not.” Elsie looked down. “The last time I got help, I ended up with these shoes.”

Jennie winced in sympathy. “Every woman needs to own at least one pair of impossibly uncomfortable shoes in her lifetime. But there are no rules that say you have to keep them on in my kitchen.”

Elsie slid out of her shoes with a groan of bliss—and couldn’t stop the mental giggles. She was barefoot and in the kitchen. That so wasn’t in the marketing brochure.

Jennie, lips quirking, handed her a pitcher of orange juice and a steaming basket of fresh muffins, and motioned toward the table. “Have a seat, and then you can tell us why you decided to torture your feet this morning.”

Elsie took a deep breath and sat down across from her roommate. “I came to see Lizard.” She pushed a check across the table. “This is for you. I want to invest in your project.”

Lizard stared, totally confused—and then she looked down at the check on the table.

For a long moment, nobody moved. Then the hell of Lizard broke loose. She flew back from the table hard enough to send her chair over backwards and the basket of muffins into Jennie’s lap. “I can’t take your money. I don’t even know if there’s going to be a project yet, and even if there is, it’s supposed to be funded by old men in suits who have money to burn.”

Elsie smiled at Jennie. “This is going well, don’t you think?”

Jennie’s eyes held shock. And amusement. And no small measure of pride.

Elsie soaked in all three and turned back to Lizard. “Josh tells me your project is an excellent investment, likely to double my money in three years.” She smiled, rather impressed at the daring of the inner gambler she hadn’t even known existed until donut number two.

Lizard’s eyes bugged. “You know Josh?”

“I do now.” Elsie shrugged, astonished at how much she was enjoying herself. “I don’t usually find strange men in my kitchen offering investment opportunities. It’s been an interesting morning.”

The check could have been lit dynamite and Lizard probably would have looked less terrified. “You can’t do this. What did you do, rob a bank?”

“No. It’s my savings. Well, half my savings.” Elsie grinned. “Don’t worry—the other half is in totally boring, conservative bonds.” She reached for a muffin. “I know it’s not much compared to what most of your backers will bring to the table, but Josh said small investors are welcome too.”

“Not much?” Lizard’s voice was a strangled rasp. “It’s fifty-three thousand dollars, Elsie.”

“I’m aware of that.” Somehow, she hadn’t expected this to be fun. “I wrote the check and made sure I got all the zeroes right.”

“I can’t take this. You’re my friend.”

And just like that, they were at the part that really mattered. The part that Josh had tried to talk her out of, and she’d insisted was her right. She was clear on the risks. And clear on the caliber of people she was putting her money behind.

Elsie met Lizard’s gaze, eyebrow raised. “So you’re only going to make old, dusty guys in suits richer? Not your friends?”

Lizard was pressed back into the wall. “It might not work. Maybe Josh is wrong and nobody will buy my stupid maps and we’ll get run out of town. The suit guys are used to taking risks and watching their money evaporate.”

Elsie let some of her newfound passion loose. “I’ve seen your maps and how smart you are and how you know exactly the right place for someone’s home.” She laid down the knife. Stabbing it for emphasis probably wasn’t helping. Her eyes, however, gave her roommate no room at all for wiggling. “The only way you will fail at this is if you want to.”

She pushed the check toward Lizard. “I have fifty-three thousand dollars that says you have more guts than that.”

She got up from the table, picked up her shoes, and using every ounce of stage presence she’d learned from Vero, made a grand, sweeping exit. To the loud sound of Jennie’s mental applause ringing in her ears.

It had been worth fifty-three thousand dollars just for that moment of triumph.

~ ~ ~

––––––––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: Jennie Adams <[email protected]>

Subject: Elsie’s finest hour.

––––––––––––––

Dear Vero,

Why do the stupid things always come back to bite you?

Ironically, Lizard seems more upset that I know rich men in suits than that I sat Josh down to check him out, but I suspect she simply hasn’t thought about what the latter implies yet. I still say that young man has the potential to be a lot more than a business partner.

But I’m smart enough to duck for the cover he has provided with his multi-million-dollar offer. He knows how to get a woman’s attention.

Jamie has checked out his business credentials (yes, we are apparently hopelessly addicted to meddling). He said he’s fairly annoyed he’s not already one of Josh’s investors, and they’re discussing some kind of programming-geek partnership on his current venture. Which is Jamie-speak for “approved.”

You’d think Josh’s offer would be the highlight of the day, but it pales in comparison to the magic that just happened in my kitchen. Last night, I watched Lizard’s innate generosity help Elsie find the bravery she needed to take the safety net of her old persona and toss it in the flames.

And this morning, Elsie limped into my kitchen, threw half her life savings on the table, and dared Lizard to succeed.

It is too soon to know if it worked—but it was the gutsiest act of love I’ve seen in a long time, and I live in a world where bravery and love are everyday things.

We are in a rare moment, I think—and not quite done. I’m flying purely on instinct here, but there comes a time in every photo shoot when the right pictures come, and they generally come fast and furious, all in a clump. I think we’ve taken the first couple of pictures in that clump now.

My gut says there are more.

And my gut says I’m not the one to find them. Lizard and Elsie have become WitchLight for each other now. I want to give them a chance to really run with it.

Our weekly meeting is tomorrow morning. And I have one of those ideas that is either genius or pure folly.

Wish me luck,

Jennie