Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend) by Kerrigan Byrne

Author:Kerrigan Byrne [Byrne, Kerrigan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ardent Publishing
Published: 2014-10-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

“Dev just hit on me.” Even on the phone, Sandra Carvatali’s accent may have belonged to the Jersey Shore, but her quick wit and photographic memory made her damn near a MENSA candidate. “Which is just wicked weird, because, like, aren’t you two fucking still?”

“No,” Aerin clipped as she wound her way through the busy SeaTac Airport’s baggage claim with a finger on her blue-tooth earpiece to press it closer and block out noise. “We’re not still fucking.” At least not as of thirteen hours ago.

Ignoring the censuring look from the elderly woman next to her in a kitty sweater and q-tip hair, she searched the turnstile for her suitcase and kept being shouldered out by the press of bodies.

Not that she had any claim over Dev, but Aerin would have thought he’d wait a good twenty-four hours before trying to slip it to someone else. Especially her personal assistant. But didn’t guys only need twenty-four minutes until they were ready again? So what the hell did she know?

“Okay then,” Aerin could almost hear Sandra’s shrug. “Do you want me to put Anthrax in his coffee? Because my second-cousin on my mother’s side, Carmine, he knows a guy and I think he takes American Express.”

Buying illegal chemical weapons with your American Express card? Just what would the receipt say? “No, Sandra, that won’t be necessary.” What if the NSA just heard her assistant say Anthrax? Weren’t they listening to everything nowadays?

Aerin looked left to right and behind her, feeling a weird tingle of hairs at the back of her neck, even though they were schpackled into a tidy and professional updo.

“That ass clown should know better than to test my loyalty, boss. Besides, I’m not into sloppy seconds even if his people wrote the actual book on all the great ways to have sex. I’m too classy for that.”

Aerin pictured her assistant’s up-to-there hair, eyeliner bills, and closet full of leopard print. At least that closet was on the Upper East Side. So, maybe classy wasn’t the apropos descriptive word. But still, the woman was indispensable and very well-paid.

“Though the sentiment is… appreciated. I think. Let’s hold off on any terrorist activity, at least until I get back.”

“All right.” Aerin could also hear Sandra’s eye-roll. “But where I come from, it’s a sign of weakness if you don’t at least slash his tires. You know, show him you care.”

“I don’t care,” Aerin said honestly.

“Oh, that’s different then. How’s Seattle?”

“Gray and rainy.”

“Well, it’s spring. It’s supposed to be nice in the summer.” The click-clack of long fake nails on a keyboard punctuated a pregnant silence. “So… you need me to prepare any documents, call meetings, book hotels, a car, buy bribery gifts, put together PowerPoint presentations, you know, the usual?” The vibration of Sandra’s anxiety reached through the continent between them. “You left without telling me what you’re doing. I’m flying blind, boss, I can’t even link the calendar. I haven’t made an excel chart in weeks. My life has no meaning.

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