Page 28 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
“That’s weird,” I mumble.
“What is it?” Irene asks as she drops off my coffee.
“Lopez, the plumber, he says he won’t work on my place,ever.”
Irene clucks her tongue. “I’m sorry about that, hon. Lots of people are afraid of that place.”
“Cherry, refill please!” a customer calls across the diner.
She sighs. “Cheer up. I’ll be back with those pancakes soon.”
I give her a pitying smile. “Thanks.”
The next email is from one of the general carpenters.
Ms. Azarolla,
I won’t be able to take your job, or any in the future at the hot spring. Let me know if you get a place in town.
Sorry about that,
P. Durks
I take a scalding sip of my coffee and click over to the next email, from the other plumber…
Ms. Azarolla,
Can’t work on your place. Hope you find someone.
Thanks,
Joe Stevens
What the absolute fuck?
“Finally putting that dump back on the market?” a slick, slimy voice I already know too well asks. Mark Torres slides into the bench across from me with a broad, knowing grin.
I pack up my anger and push it to the back of my mind. “Things are progressing, actually. I think I could be back open in time for winter.”
He laughs, and keeps laughing, for far too long. Everyone in the diner turns to look at us. I school my face, ensuring that none of the “Stab him with your fork” from crazy-girl shows in my expression.
“You are too funny, Syl.” He shortens my name, and my temper goes with it.
Oooh, do I want to stab him with my fork.
He wipes his eyes with my napkin. “You should host an amateur comedy show at the springs. It would be a better use of the space.”
I lean forward. “I’m sorry, are we in middle school again? What is this behavior?”
“I was trying to be nice.” His expression goes flat. “You want the gloves off, I’ll take ’em off.”
I scoff. “Please, Mark, I don’t even want to fight. I just want to get this business back up and running.”
And free a certain incubus trapped in it.
“There are more than enough clients in the state of Colorado for us both, and people will come from out of town, too,” I say,trying to make him see reason. “The competition will be good for us.”
“I don’t want competition,” he says with a snarl as he leans over the table.
