“Room and board. Room and board,” Poppy muttered as they knocked on Ricardo’s door, decorated in orange and purple lights for Halloween, while he continued to ignore their knocking.
“What the hell are you babbling about?” Nina asked, leaning against the side of the building.
Poppy rolled her eyes. “I’m just keeping myself motivated. Forget it and answer me this. Why is Douchecanoe ignoring us? The lights are on, and it’s not like we can’t hear him,” she yelled into the night for Ricardo’s benefit.
Nina popped her lips and shrugged. “Dunno, but if he keeps fucking playing like we’re not here, I’m going to knock down this door and beat his ass to within an inch of his life with the damn arm I rip from his ripply body.”
Poppy looked up at Nina, biting the inside of her cheek as she attempted to hide her sheer terror. “Is it my job as his familiar to protect him from you?”
“Your first priority is always your warlock, no matter how dangerous,” Calamity provided in a helpful tone.
Poppy gulped with a wince of fear and then she banged that much harder on the door. “Hey in there, Jerkface! Stop being such a shithead and open the damn door. It’s freezing out here! Do you want to wake up to a frozen familiar in Popsicle-still-life on your doorstep tomorrow?”
Calamity tsked her with a noise from the back of her throat. “Nice way to inspire a bond between the two of you.”
“You can’t bond with someone who doesn’t want to bond, Calamity.” She paused a moment and took a deep breath. Surely he couldn’t be this childish. So she banged again. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to scream!”
But the door didn’t budge.
And she’d had just about enough. This day had gone on for at least an eternity. She was tired, her makeup was beginning to crack, her feet were numb from her stupid platform shoes and her ridiculous Afro wig was tangled into a big knot from her fingers worrying the plastic threads to death.
Her eyes were grainy, her nose was runny and cold, and she was suffering from realm lag, a condition Calamity told her would leave her feeling edgy and raw. The edgy part was an understatement, and while patience wasn’t exactly her biggest virtue, even Jesus himself couldn’t withstand this kind of blatant disregard.
So she kept her promise and screamed for all she was worth. Banging on the door one more time, she flung herself against it and began a dramatic plight. “Stop! Help! Someone help me! He’s hurting me! You’re hurting me! Stranger danger! Someone help! Call 9-1-1! Helllppppp!”
Just as she wound up, the red steel door on the side of the warehouse swung open, knocking her back into Nina.
Ricardo stuck his gorgeous head out and tilted it to the right as though they were all crazy. “Why are you yelling?” he asked, pulling a pair of earplugs from his ears.
She also noted Mr. Warlock was naked from the waist up. Her eyes warred with her brain as she fought not to gaze, wide-eyed and starry, at his smooth olive skin and the line of dark hair, running from his belly button into his tight jeans.
Her eyes narrowed as she scoffed at him, fighting the chatter of her teeth. “We’ve been banging on the door for at least ten minutes! What the hell were you doing in there?”
“Break-dancing. Duh.” Then he grinned, all heart pounding and delicious.
Poppy was in no mood for anything, least of all his sarcasm. She held up a hand and narrowed her eyes. “If you make one sound of protest about letting us in and I end up in the Bad Place because you’re a big fat dick, I’ll punch you in the face. Got that? Now move out of my way!”
With that, she stomped inside his big, fancy, refurbished warehouse, her legs wobbling as she went, so much so, she had to loop her arm through Wanda’s to keep from collapsing.
But as she entered the space, Poppy caught her breath. Wow. Was this what it was like to be rich?
Her eyes didn’t know where to look first—to the black industrial pipes lining the walls used as sort of statement art, or the smooth gray-and-red kitchen cabinets and shiny steel countertops. The place had hints of Spanish accents in the way of a colorful vase or two and was ultra-manly with clean lines, sharp edges.
Just like him.
Her mouth formed an O as she scanned the landscape, the sheer size of the warehouse. In the center of the wide room, a big couch in black leather with plump teal and red pillows called to her, invited her to sit and allow the smooth fabric to envelop her.