Witches in flight, p.9
Witches in Flight, page 9
Okay, that was still going to take some getting used to. He put together a thought and tried to shove it Jamie’s general direction. She can really do this?
She can. His witch investor paused a moment. She’s a lot better at it than I am, actually. And just so you have the lay of the land, she works for the best mind witch in town, with the possible exception of my four-year-old nephew.
Wow. Josh laid a hand on the meeting room door, trying to get his legendary brain back in the game. He had a roomful of suits to woo. I’m going to have some questions for you later.
Jamie nodded. Figured that. You earned them—you did good back there.
Josh walked through the door on autopilot and started shaking hands. Could she really make me do the chicken dance?
Jamie’s mind rang with laughter. Probably. And if that’s your first question, you’ll do just fine. Welcome to Witch Central.
Whatever the hell that was. However, if Lizard belonged to some kind of semi-secret witch collective, then he was going to learn a whole lot about it. After the meeting.
He turned around, looking for Lizard—and spotted her sexy blonde head halfway across the room, making nice with one of his grumpier investors. He watched the man’s eyes shift from disapproving, to wary, to curious, to downright adulation, all in about three sentences.
The world was discovering what he’d known for weeks now. She was irresistible.
Time to get this party started.
He stepped to the head of the table, pulling on a layer of authority. Bless Mom for sending him to acting class—it was way more useful than business school. “Good morning, everyone. If you want to find your way to a seat, we have a pretty cool new toy to show you.”
Danny winked from his seat from over by the computer controls. He’d be driving, while Josh did most of the talking. And if they were really lucky, Lizard would forget she hated meetings and wow the suits with her enthusiasm for matching people with homes. He was pretty sure she had exactly no idea how convincing she could be. He still woke up at night with the words of her “stupid” poem driving through his brain.
She’d been sheer guts dressed in purple and black.
Danny cleared his throat, a knowing grin on his face. There was a tableful of investors, all sitting politely in chairs, waiting.
Damn. He never unraveled in meetings. “Thanks for coming, everyone. I could bore you all with a spiel up here, but I don’t think this new project needs any gloss. I hope you’ll agree that it has the potential to change how people find a place to live.”
He signaled at Danny to launch their prototype. “This is our neighborhood matchmaking tool. Up until now, realtors have mostly relied on the attributes of a house to match clients with homes. Budget, desired number of bedrooms, double sinks in the bathroom.”
He was finding his groove now. “Survey research suggests that clients under forty are the fastest growing demographic in real estate right now.” He made eye contact with his audience, reminding them he was squarely in that group. “And we don’t care about double sinks. We want a neighborhood with the right vibe, the right amenities.”
He pulled up a standard real-estate listing. “But realtors are still working with old tools, ones that tell them about roofing materials and walk-in-closet dimensions. They don’t have data on the Thai restaurant around the corner or the pick-up Frisbee games in the park or the hell commute when it snows.
“We’re looking to change all of that.” He kept talking, trusting Danny to drive through some of their cooler features as he explained how realtors would have an entirely new toolset at their fingertips—and be willing to pay handsomely for it to serve the fast-growing group of hip, young clients with money to spend.
He surveyed the room as he walked through the features overview. About half were on board already. That was a good start. Time to head after the rest.
Starting with the most skeptical guy in the room—and the one with the deepest pockets. Josh eyed his target. “I’m sure you have questions.”
Chester Satchell raised an eyebrow. “How do you know anyone will use it? My real estate agent can’t even use a laptop.”
“Yup. Some people are dinosaurs.” Josh grinned, knowing full well Chester was one of them. “But we don’t need everyone. We’re looking to lease this exclusively by market—one real estate practice in each metro area.”
Chester grunted. And then he did the one thing Josh had been hoping to avoid. He zoned in on Lizard. “You don’t look like a realtor.”
She eyed his baggy sweater and corduroys. “And you don’t look like a rich suit with money to burn.”
Half the room snorted with laughter. The other half held their breath. Josh wasn’t at all sure which camp he was in.
Chester’s gaze never moved off Lizard. “You’re the brains behind the maps idea? The one who did the original version?”
Josh landed both feet in the breath-holding camp. Damn Chester and his unswerving instincts.
Finally Lizard answered. One word. “Yeah.”
“Show me what you made.”
Now Lizard squirmed. “It’s not nearly as pretty as Josh’s prototype.”
Chester just snorted. “You think it’s pretty I care about, girl? I want to know if you have the brains to make something that really works for the people who do the job every day. Show me what you use.”
Time to earn his paycheck. Josh walked over to Lizard’s side. “If you give me your laptop, Danny will hook it up. You can give us all a quick tour.”
The look Lizard gave him could have melted glass. He really, really hoped Jamie was wrong on the chicken-dancing thing. He met her gaze evenly. Chester had got her into this—he was just trying to help her get out. Don’t flame the messenger’s brain-cells.
When she handed over her laptop, he felt like he’d planted a flag on the top of Everest.
He wasn’t at all surprised when she took over the controls from Danny and wrapped the room around her little finger in less than three minutes. Even Chester was nodding with interest when she finished—and he rarely showed any reaction.
Lizard closed her laptop and turned to Chester, badass attitude all over her face. “Good enough for you?”
Chester waited a moment. Two. And then his face split in a smile the size of California. “Damn, I like you. I have two million for your project. Another mil if you get the financing to break-even.”
Josh sat back and grinned as a roomful of people in suits rushed to pile money on top of Chester’s. They’d have three times the funds they needed. And if Lizard scowled any harder, Chester might just throw in that third million right now.
She was every kind of awesome.
~ ~ ~
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To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Jamie Sullivan
Subject: She kicked butt.
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Hey Aunt Jennie,
I know you’d have killed to be a fly on the wall, so here’s the official report, coming to you from a quiet corner of Josh’s meeting room.
I’m currently watching an investor stampede. I hope Josh has plans to spend an awful lot of money, and I’m going to be seriously peeved if he doesn’t let me put mine in. Lizard worked the room with a strange combination of delinquent attitude and serious business savvy, and currently has an obnoxious, tech-allergic billionaire eating out of her hand (I don’t think she knows about his billions).
However, all that pales in comparison to how Josh worked Lizard. And I mean that in the best of all possible senses.
We had a bit of an unplanned epiphany in the hallway before the meeting (and whoever bet she’d show up in holey jeans wins the betting pool). Lizard and I were having a bit of a mental chat, and Josh picked up on it. I forgot he knows I can mindread. Anyhow, so two minutes before the investor smack-down starts, Josh figures out Lizard’s a witch.
She was way freaked. Something about being afraid they would lock her up.
And he takes her hand, talks her down in three sentences, and drags her into the meeting. Which takes some serious guts—and some serious like for our resident delinquent.
I have the sudden, insane urge to wish that, one day, my daughter will meet a guy that cool. Which makes me feel really old.
Over and out,
Jamie
~ ~ ~
Elsie slid into her leotard, wondering how she’d managed to live before discovering the trapeze. For a woman who’d made it to thirty-two years old with very few true passions in life, she was making up for lost time.
Abe walked over, an easy grin sprouting as he caught sight of her new leotard. “Nice—love the sparkles.”
Elsie looked down at the results of a four-hour sewing marathon, ably assisted by Helga and three very opinionated triplets. “I vetoed rainbows, but it’s still pretty shiny.” And her heart adored the silver sequins, but she was a bit worried her heart was permanently stuck at ten years old. You didn’t see a lot of rainbows in jazz bars.
Then again, Helga had tried to steal it, so perhaps it wasn’t quite as childish as she feared. Elsie shook her head—being a child was part of the point. Some days she felt like fifteen Elsies.
Abe was still grinning. “Done with the internal debate?”
She blushed. “Sorry. I used to be a psychologist. Sometimes I overanalyze things.” And the “used to” part of that sentence really bothered her lately.
He gave her a friendly nudge in the direction of the ladder. “Head on up. Colleen and Elliot are trying a new move today, and they’d like some eyes to help them figure out why it’s not coming together. Maybe we can put that analytical brain of yours to work.”
Elsie laughed—she was hardly the one who was going to solve expert-level-trapeze-trick issues. But it was nice to be included anyhow. “What are they working on?”
“Mid-air kiss.” He chuckled, climbing the ladder after her. “So far they’re just getting bruised heads.”
She couldn’t even manage romance on the ground. Elsie stepped onto the small platform and watched the pair on the mirroring platform having a fairly heated discussion.
“Uh, oh.” Abe sat down beside her. “Colleen’s finally mad—that’s not a good sign.”
Elsie wondered—Vero had given her a very different window on intense emotions. “Maybe it will help them work through to something new.”
Her trainer raised an eyebrow. “That’s the kind of thing Elliot would say, but his family is full of mad, passionate Spaniards. What’s your excuse?”
She grinned, watching the squabbling couple with new eyes. “My last name is Giannotto. Italians own being madly passionate.” She blinked. Sometimes the new Elsie talked without thinking. It was still disconcerting. Abe, however, seemed to be taking it totally in stride.
“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head, still watching the opposite platform. “Helga says she’s good German stock, and she brought that old guy Edric to watch her on the trapeze yesterday. There were some serious sparks flying between those two.” He grinned. “I hope my wife and I can pull that off when we’re their age.”
Sparks. Elsie rested her head on her knees, lost in thought. Helga had sparks. Nat and Jamie had sparks—big, fat ones. Lizard had plenty flying her direction, even if she ignored them.
Elsie Giannotto wanted sparks. Heck—she wanted raging bonfires. Just once. Maybe with Anton she was finally getting her chance.
She watched as Elliot climbed back on to his trapeze, still scowling—and transferred his partner to her bar with casual strength and impeccable timing. A few easy swings to synch up, a quick flip of positions that had Elsie drooling, and Colleen and Elliot executed a perfect mid-air kiss.
More proof, if she needed it. Sometimes passion really worked.
Chapter 10
Nat looked out at her class, amused and proud. Her husband was in his usual place in the back row, pretending he didn’t really like yoga—and flowing through the postures with an ease and willing grace that belied his protests.
Not that he protested very hard these days. He claimed he came because he liked to ogle her pregnant belly and wait for the day she finally fell over in tree pose. He had a while to wait yet—she could feel the comfortable weight in her womb growing roots out through her feet.
She worked her way around the room, a hand here to correct alignment, a few words there. She prided herself on being in the moment with each student—but the antics in the back row weren’t ever far from her attention.
With a sure and crooked path, she worked her way to the back of the room. Her husband grinned and winked as she got close. You can’t sneak up on a mind witch, sweetheart. Even one really grumpy about triangle pose.
Nat just smiled. Lizard’s triangle pose was quite excellent for a beginner—her husband had forgotten his early days. She loved helping those new to yoga find their first comfortable alignment, and her hands moved even now to help Lizard flow more easily.
But what touched her heart the most was Elsie—mat down on Lizard’s other side, making an intentional mess of her own pose and quietly modeling simple corrections. All while seemingly ignoring her friend.
Good teachers led from the front. Great ones led from wherever worked. And her always-in-the-front-row intern was teaching. Beautifully. From the back row.
Nat glanced at her husband, expecting that he would have their usual mindlink in place. She learns quickly.
He stretched deeper into his own triangle pose. Lizard or Elsie?
Both. Nat watched her two students. Lizard has a good sense of herself in space—she’ll take to yoga easily enough if she chooses. It was a great irony in her life that those who most often chose yoga were those who found it least easy—and the innately flexible walked away.
Perhaps those who walk away don’t need it as badly. Jamie flowed smoothly into half-moon asana, snagging a kiss as he went, and then looked over at Elsie. Or maybe they come back eventually.
Yes. Elsie had come back—and returned so very changed from the woman who had walked around the studio floor with little bits of green tape, obsessively correcting the organic scatter of yoga mats.
She has the instinctive patience of a teacher.
That was high praise coming from her husband, one of Witch Central’s best trainers. Maybe she’s always had it. Even as she said it, Nat knew that wasn’t true. Here, on the mat, Elsie could integrate some of the many pieces of the woman she was and the woman she was becoming, even if she was still feeling a little fractured the rest of the time.
She’s had plenty of good models lately, and she’s smart enough to learn from them. If anyone can teach her to integrate, it would be you. Her husband grinned as one of his lightning changes of mood struck. And Lizard’s got stiff hips, if you’re looking to torture someone today.
Nat surveyed the class and her newest student, considering. Hip openers weren’t always the right answer, no matter what Jamie thought. And there was more than one way to loosen hips—and foster connection at the same time.
She raised her voice just enough to be heard throughout the room and eased everyone up out of triangle pose. “Now that you’re open in your own hearts, let’s try something a little different today. Look around you, please, and move your mat together with one of your neighbors.” Time for some partner yoga.
It pleased her enormously when Lizard and Elsie automatically slid their mats together.
~ ~ ~
Lizard scowled as the mental chatter in the class made it clear that pushing your mats together with a buddy wasn’t the usual order of business after triangle pose.
She glared over at Jamie, currently being accosted by a little old lady. What the heck is “partner yoga?”
You’ll see. He was distracted by the worry that he was going to break the sweet old lady in two.
Lizard rolled her eyes and tried not to imagine what was going to happen when she and Elsie did whatever was coming next. Tell her the cute old guy in the front row is single.
Is he? Jamie sounded surprised.
Lizard grinned. I don’t think so, but it should give you enough time to make a run for it.
Nat walked gracefully back to Jamie’s side, ignoring his quiet snickers. “Today, let’s do some flying together. Most of you have seen the basic version.” She waited while her husband lay down on his back and lifted his legs. Then she stepped in, settling his feet into her hip creases. “You’ll have to work out how to fit your bodies together comfortably—and hopefully your partner doesn’t have cold feet.”
The rest of the class laughed, and then clapped as Nat reached for Jamie’s hands and floated into a swan dive position in the air, supported by his feet. Then she let go of his hands and gracefully arched to the sky, arms reaching overhead. “This is the more advanced version. Only go here if you’re both feeling good. Remember, the partner on the floor is grounding for both of you.” Lizard stared, captivated by the absolute, easy trust coming from both their minds.
Nat dropped gracefully back to the ground. “Okay, have a chat with your partner and figure out who’s flying first.”
That was easy. There were eight inches and forty pounds separating her and Elsie. Lizard had no intention of being crushed. She looked over at her roommate. “I guess that’s me.”
Elsie smiled and dropped gracefully to the mat, swinging her legs into the air. “Ready when you are.”
Lizard stepped forward—and then realized this was totally nuts. She fell over in freaking triangle pose, and that one involved having three limbs on the ground. “Maybe you should work with somebody who’s done this before. I’ll go sit against the wall.”
Elsie just smiled again and reached out her hands. “Imagine my feet are as big as a bed. All you have to do is float on top.”
“Imagining crap isn’t going to help.”
“Then imagine it’s like soufflés.” Elsie’s look was more pointed now. “If I can be taught to fold eggs the right way, you can balance on my feet. We’ve got all day.”
