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I’m guessing she got busy fast. She wouldn’t have been like me, unsure of what to wish for beyond the most basic of desires. It’s a relief though to read how different her first encounter was with Odai compared to mine, confirming what he said about them never having slept together. It makes me feel just a little bit special that he was so ravenous with me.
This was my first chance to look at the journal again, but I should get downstairs. I slip it back under my pillow. I zipped through a morning shower so I could take a little time with it and at least read about Odai and Mattie meeting. My hair is wet. It takes way too long to blow-dry, but since it’s Tuesday, I don’t have to worry about being Mattie tonight. I quickly tie it into a bun.
Odai met me in the hall when I first got up, but after a very sweet kiss to my cheek, he went downstairs to work until I was ready to join him. I head there now, hearing voices as I near the door like the other day. At first, I figure the raised voice with Odai’s must be Cas, but as I turn the knob, the nasty tone of the second voice sends a chill through me.
“I don’t know you, young man, and I demand to speak with someone who has actual authority!”
Mrs. Sherman.
Knowing it’s her almost makes me turn tail back upstairs, but I can’t leave Odai to deal with her alone.
“Madame, I can assure you I have such authority,” Odai says, as I emerge and head toward him where he is keeping Mrs. Sherman at bay by the front door. “I have been contracted to revitalize this establishment—”
“Revitalize it with what? More lewd showmanship and underhanded tactics to turn the neighborhood against me?”
I scoff—loudly. How can I not, when she’s the underhanded one? But my eruption of noise draws her attention.
That woman’s gaze could pierce through titanium.
“G-good morning, Mrs. Sherman,” I stutter. “Can I—”
“How dare you tell our neighbors that I intentionally tricked them!” she bellows without so much as an attempt at being cordial. “To sully my good name when I am the only one looking out for the integrity of this neighborhood is truly even lower than I expected of this… place,” she finishes with an especially pronounced sneer, like she had a fresh collagen injection this morning to freeze her face.
Odai shifts to let me forward but still stands close to me, and the protective presence of his larger body definitely helps. He’s in harem pants again, but today, his outfit is an assortment of pinks, so he can once again wear his pansexual-colored scarf as a matching accessory.
It’s extra gratifying having him beside me as a Mrs. Sherman buffer while wearing an outfit so in-her-face queer.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything, Mrs. Sherman,” I say. “If they came to you to discuss that petition, they realized it themselves that you were trying to trick them.”
I feel her armor-piercing eyes like a literal bullet. Odai might give me confidence, but she sure knows how to shred it. “Don’t think it was everyone on that petition, young man,” she says, like she always says, like she thinks she’s slighting me by saying it. It definitely drips with more derision than when she called Odai that. “I still have the church on my side, which carries quite a bit of sway around here. The few can have very strong voices.”
“What an odd thing to say.” Odai tilts his head at her. “Odd, when it seems you are aiming to silence the few here.”
Mrs. Sherman huffs but squares her eyes on me, as if Odai is an even lesser gnat and can be ignored. “Don’t think you’ve won. This neighborhood will be decent again someday.”
“Again, such an odd statement.” Odai has yet to look away from her and waits to continue until after her eyes move back to him. “Because if by decent you are implying a return to before this establishment existed, this neighborhood was empty prairie with a series of caves beneath it. Unless you are implying a scorched earth approach.”
I can’t help the smirk that forms seeing how pissed he is making her, and with a flutter of elation, I watch her retreat and storm back over to Curves.
“Sometimes I wish—” I slap a hand over my mouth upon seeing Odai’s eyes twinkle. “Nope. I need to be careful what I wish for. I just don’t know how to deal with that woman.” I close the door but keep it unlocked since Cas and Mr. B are bound to be here soon. “I don’t think ignoring her is enough, even if we do get most of the other businesses on our side.”
“You could wish for me to discover a way to deal with her,” Odai suggests.
I try to gauge if his twinkle has any menace to it. “What would you do?”
“All solutions start with research, do they not? I will simply learn more about her. I will always put your interests first, Jeffrey, and to accomplish that, anyone can be dealt with.” Those words do sound a little menacing, but I figure whatever he digs up about Mrs. Sherman she’ll have earned being wielded against her.
“Then I wish for you to do that,” I say.
“What was that all about?” Mr. B comes out of the office, startling me. I didn’t realize he was already here.
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Bevilaqua,” Odai says.
We meet him near the checkout counter, and I can tell he’s excited, practically bouncing, as he holds a small stack of papers. “Then worry I won’t! Have you seen some of these mockups of Odai’s?” He shows me the printouts and begins to page through them. They’re posters and ad ideas for our joint venture plans with Tony’s and the hotel. “He is a real wizard, isn’t he? I’ll admit, the graphic design side of marketing has never been my forte. These are fantastic!”
They really are. It amuses me imagining Odai, an ancient incubus, spending his evening hours while I’m asleep working in Photoshop. The ad for the hotel is my favorite, since it looks like a mockup of something from the 1880s, with an image of the hotel that honestly looks hand-drawn—and maybe was—with that sort of coffee-stained beige look to it.
EXPERIENCE THE LUXURY OF THE 19TH CENTURY WHERE THE GREATS DID.
