Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(95)
Jack Branning.
Mm.
* * * * *
Later:
Am alone in bed after having total Mother of All Breakdowns with Josie.
It was the Moet.
I told her everything about Aidan and Ash and the blood vow of secrecy (secrecy? ha!) and going to Denver.
I told her how I was in love with both men and about their competition and my two Big O’s and what Ash said about liking me.
I told her how I was rubbish at lying to them and how it was going to take weeks, maybe months for us to be able to arrange to get out of the country and into a safe place in Colorado and how I didn’t think I could make it.
Ack!
And I cried and cried (and snorted!) and cried and went through nearly half a box of Kleenex.
She just sat next to me and held my hand then when I kept crying she held me and when I’d settled down, she popped the top off another mini-bottle of Moet and put in a fresh straw and handed it to me.
She patted my arm and said, “Don’t worry, love, I trust you. We’ll get through this.”
That’s it.
Simple faith.
Then we snuggled into the couch and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street (Gerard Butler DVDs all checked out (humph) but Johnny Depp was no sloppy seconds, still, although I wanted a Johnny Depp-a-thon, that wasn’t exactly where I wanted to start).
Now almost asleep and feel better than I have in days.
Love Josie.
15 September
Had granola, blueberries and organic Greek yogurt for breakfast.
Had eyebrow, leg and bikini wax and brow and lash dye.
Had French pedicure and manicure with blood red varnish.
Had lunch of blanched asparagus and steamed salmon.
Had highlights retouched and splint ends trimmed.
Did pilates (not sure I get it, yoga much better).
Beginning to wish women around me were plotting and scheming.
Want big, oozing, yeasty cinnamon roll dripping with sugary buttery frosting.
Am bored out of my skull.
Am sick of steamed, blanched, salt-less, personality-less food.
Am not cavewoman or lost on deserted island.
Am missing my cauldron, my magical larder and constant threat of death or possible snogging by cute but treacherous boys.
Ack!
Am psychotic but want old life of danger and mayhem back.
16 September
Had mini-drama as Rory left newfound girlfriend who is off to the wilds of Orkney or somesuch.
Thank goddess (for Rory’s sake) for Facebook and Instant Messenger.
We are going home.
Finally.
19 September
Progress Report:
Cookbook lady has come back to Lucy and me and said not only does she want cookbook, she has been in talks with some British television channel and they may want cookery show called “War of the Wooden Spoons” filmed in Witches Dozen and beamed out to whole British populace with TV license.
Ack!
Me: the New Nigella.
(Or Jamie? Pucka!)
Ack!
Su’s coven has been hard at work.
They’ve found a safe house in Baker’s Historic District in Denver (Yay! Close to Mom’s house!) and started to put protection spells on it (love Baker! close proximity to Mayan Movie Theater – Yay! Independent and foreign films while in hiding. Also close to my old “local” The Hornet. Buffalo chicken salad with bleu cheese dressing. Woo hoo! Oo, how I missed the Mile Hi City!).
As they do not have the power of the Honeycutt Coven, this could take some time but at least they’ve started.
Viv has explained that magic is verboten on flights and in airports and has been for some time (disappointing but understandable).
So, we had a powwow and feel that we need some protection of the muscle-bound type and if she or he were a little magical, well, all the better.
Had to check with Elly and The Prophesies to make certain-sure there was not third A-named man who would vie for my affections, throwing me into confusion and self-hatred when I find he turns on me in bid to control own destiny.
Elly says only two boys so prophesied so not to worry, could find mercenary without concern of future heartbreak.
Ack!
But where to find mercenary?
Where else?
23 September
Met Viv in Paddington Station.
She was (allegedly) at meetings somewhere in London to plan a speaking tour of east England up through Yorkshire.
I was (allegedly) locked up in the Tower Room searching for the Magic-Stealing Spell so I could figure out how to reverse Althea’s condition.
Get this: Viv was wearing a pink, oxford-cloth, button-down shirt, sand-colored chinos, a pink, naval-style belt, pink (Coach, at least) loafers and a pink Alice band in her hair.
How could this be my sister?
I, on the other hand, was taking full advantage of Indian summer and was wearing my four-inch, stiletto-heeled, t-strap sandals with the big chunks of turquoise imbedded in the T. Added to this were my dark, desert-washed, boot-leg, hipster jeans with a wide, stamp-designed tan belt and giganto turquoise and rhinestone belt buckle (trust me, it worked). Topped with my gauzy somewhat see-through, Indian-inspired tunic with the neckline split to there and showing a little curve o’ the breasticle. I’d straightened my hair to within an inch of its life and had on some pretty heavy black eyeliner.
Fab.
Mental Note: Krispie Kreme is taking over London. They have a shop in Paddington (right next to Accessorize which I had to visit even though they have them in Bristol – am addicted to Accessorize – bought two pairs of sunglasses which brings my sunnies collection up to sixteen pairs. Yee ha!).