Page 64 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
“Oh, well that is going to changethis year.I’m going to take you snowboarding for sure, if you stay.”
I scowl. “What do you mean, ‘if I stay?’”
“Mark and his family run everyone out of town who try to fix up the haunted springs. I just figured it’s a possibility that you’ll get sick of his shit and peace out.”
I shake my head. “I’m a stubborn bitch. There’s no way I’m letting Turdleneck run me out.”
“Turtleneck.” She snorts into her water and covers her mouth.
“No, it’s Turd-le neck.” I correct her, and she laughs harder.
“Oh, yeah, I like you.”
The waiter drops off our wine and bread with fresh whipped garlic butter. She raises her glass to me. “A toast, then, to a new, long-lasting friendship.”
I clink her glass with mine, feeling the gravity of the red (2) in my texts worm back to the forefront of my mind. I take two good gulps to make it shut up.
“Before we get down to business, I have to ask.” I lean forward and so does she. “How does he seem to know everything that’s going on in town?”
She rolls her eyes. “He has a lot of different people who idolize him, crave his power.”
I know she only means his sway, but I wonder how many people know that magic is real, and that Mark may actually have some.
“They tell him everything. He has a special chat group for the fifteen or so of them, and they’re always going on, sharing gossip and shit-talking. It’s dumb.”
I sigh. “He showed up at my place the other day and forced his way in because he heard I had help.”
She chokes on her wine. “Hon, you need to get a restraining order!”
I roll my shoulders. “I won’t give him the satisfaction. I doubt it would do much in any case. Anyway, I hadn’t told anyone about the help I was getting—he’s been blocking all my contractor requests, so I had to get creative.”
Irene waggles her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I laugh awkwardly, the wine already warming my stomach. “But the only people who saw him were the moving ‘hunks’ who took away some of the older stuff and helped unload my personal furniture.”
“Yep, the owner of that moving company is in with him. Did you see the advertisement for Silver Mountain on the side of the truck?”
“I figured he just paid to get on everything around here,” I say.
“He makes mutual deals first, then pays when he can’t strong-arm them into agreeing. Except Corks and a few others, he’s got signs in pretty much every establishment here.”
I pour us each a refill. “And this is where I think we can have him beat. He’s got literally no merch on anyone in town. I haven’t seen a single Silver Mountain hoodie, hat, bumper sticker, or anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Merchandise isn’t his thing. He’s a control freak and wouldn’t let me make anything cool because who’s going to just wear his logo? Obviously, no one.”
“I want to let you make some cool stuff. I want to emphasize the haunted and enchanted part of the springs, and make some hilarious, memeable merch, things that people want to wear because it’s fun.”
She snaps a finger gun at me. “Yes, girl. The legends will go a long way for the people who live here, and the memes will carry you for anyone who doesn’t.”
“Guaranteed to raise your spirits,” I say in a mystic tone.
“Water hot enough to rouse the dead,” she replies.
“Enough minerals to make a protection circle.”
“A steamy seance to reconnect with your soul.”
“I better start writing these down,” I say, pulling out my phone.
