Signal to Noise(78)

“You annoy me.”

“Same.”

Meche rested her chin against his shoulder with a sigh.





MECHE DID NOT know what to think about Sebastian lately. She watched him as they rode the subway, on the way to the record store where they would meet Daniela, and thought he was turning into a stranger. He was just not himself. With Isadora this and Isadora that. He never seemed interested in the magic anymore and he sure as hell did not seem interested in spending time with them as much as he did before. He was drifting away from her.

You did this, said a nagging little voice inside Meche’s head. You hurt him and it’s not the same.

Well, she couldn’t possibly have run away with him. That would have been idiotic. Who did that kind of thing?

Clearly he did. And clearly she was too chicken to follow him.

She did not want to think about it and, so, pumped up the Walkman’s volume, drowning her thoughts with the voice of Joan Manuel Serrat, singing about a man who falls in love with a store mannequin.

They arrived at quarter to eleven, a little after they had agreed. Daniela was already there and greeted them with a big smile, a Timbiriche album under her arm, constant reminder of her lack of musical taste.

It was a small store. The walls were adorned with albums and the ceiling was plastered with posters advertising a number of music acts. The back wall was dominated by a huge, floor-to-ceiling image of Jimi Hendrix.

While Sebastian and Daniela riffled through the cassettes and records at the front, she felt herself drawn to the back, as though she were following an invisible trail.

“Hey Meche, what do you say...”

She ignored Daniela. Meche walked with sure footsteps. Her hands tingled, growing warmer. When she reached the back of the store they were sweating. She drifted towards the third bin to the left. Her fingers danced over the record sleeves, brushing them aside until she touched one which burned like a coal.

She held it up, her mouth opening a little.

Her hands trembled. It was A Whiter Shade of Pale.

“Hey, you found it!” Daniela chirped behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“Found what?” Sebastian asked.

Meche pressed the record against her chest.

Nothing, she was going to say.

“The record for the spell,” Daniela said.

Meche closed her eyes, mouthing a curse. Daniela! She couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“What?”

“Just an experiment I’m running. I mentioned it before.”

Meche turned around and faked a bored look at Sebastian, trying to downplay the importance of her discovery.

“Like?” Sebastian asked cautiously.

“I think I can use this record to cast a special spell. Of course, it’s far-fetched, but—”

“Let me see.”

His finger fell upon the record sleeve. Meche pulled it back, frowning.

“What? I can’t look at it?”

“Look at it all you want,” Meche said, holding it up, “just don’t get your dirty fingers on it. I’m going to pay for this.”





MECHE WALKED TOWARDS the cash register. Sebastian watched her with narrowed eyes, irritated by her secrecy. What the hell? Now he couldn’t even touch the records?

“What does she want it for?” Sebastian asked gruffly.

Daniela shrugged. “Um... just a spell. Like she said.”

“Yeah. For what?”

“She... I don’t think I’m supposed to say.”

“Spit it out. I’ll find out eventually.”

Daniela started chewing on a strand of hair, a sure sign she was about to buckle.

“I think it’s a love spell for Constantino,” she blurted.

Constantino. She wanted him to fall in love with her. He remembered Meche mentioning something about love spells back in December but he didn’t believe she’d seriously pursue this, especially if it meant she was going for Constantino. The same Constantino who had beaten the hell out of Sebastian with the assistance of his clones. That piece of shit. Sebastian felt offended. He felt hurt. He felt f*cking angry.

Meche marched back towards them, a plastic bag dangling from her fingers.

“I’m ready to go,” she said.





“I NEED TO borrow the record,” he said.

“No,” Meche replied.

The subway was crowded and there was no place to sit down. Meche and Sebastian occupied a narrow space between a street vendor carrying a huge bag packed with salted nuts and a mother with a small child. They were barely inches apart, sweating and uncomfortable. Three more stations to go and it seemed like it might take forever.

“Why not?” Sebastian asked.

“Because it’s mine.”

“Are you going to use it to get that * to pay attention to you?”

Meche chuckled. She lifted a lofty eyebrow. Her words were pure venom.

“Let me guess: you are going to try to get into that ditzy little thing’s pants?”

“She’s not a ditz.”

“And I’m Madonna.”

“I’m asking, as a favour—”

“And I’m saying no.”

The look she gave him was the exact same look she might use on a grubby beggar asking for a coin. It made his blood boil, to be viewed with such contempt. As though Meche were the queen and he was a serf, a nothing she could jostle around when it pleased her.