Page 11 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)
Monday can kick rocks
Magnolia
The knock on the door made it feel like my heart was beating inside my skull, and I pinched my eyes closed as I pulled a pillow over my head to try to block out the infernal sound.
“Make it stop,” Jaelyn whined next to me, the blanket shifting as she pulled it over her face.
“You make it stop,” I grumbled as another round of knocks echoed through my head like a gong.
Groaning, Jae sat up and pulled the pillow from my face. “You look like you got hit by a Mack truck.”
“A glowing endorsement, thank you. But an accurate one if I look anywhere close to how I feel.” Everything hurt.
My head, my feet, and everything in between.
Last night had been a glaring reminder that I was no longer in my twenties and thirty-year-old me was not equipped to be out dancing and drinking the night away.
Flopping unceremoniously onto my back, I pressed my fingers into my temples and swore that I would never ever drink that much again.
As the knocking continued, I rolled from the bed with a groan and shuffled toward the door, cursing the person on the other side with never having a cool side of the pillow and overcooked crawfish as each pound of their fist made my eyeballs pulse.
“I’m coming,” I yelled, immediately regretting the volume of my own voice.
Keeping the chain latched, I pulled the door open. “What do you want—Mama Jo? What are you doing here?”
With a flick of her fingers, the chain fell to the side, and she pushed her way inside. “Move, chile. Your auntie called me and said you needed me, and by the state of you, I should have been here sooner.”
Glancing down at my—nearly dead—watch, I scowled at the time. “It’s not even eight, Mama Jo. I need to sleep.”
“Hush, you. Where’s the kitchen?”
Gesturing in the direction of the kitchenette in our suite, I trodded back toward the room and shook Jae. “Wake up, Mama Jo is here.”
“Whyyyy?” she whined, burying her face into her pillow.
“I don’t know, but—” the sound of a blender cut through my words and pierced my brain.
“What the hell is she doing?”
“Makin’ you something to knock that drunken fog from your brains. Now, get up,” Mama Jo scolded as she walked into the room and ripped the sheet from Jae.
Balling the fabric up in her hands, she left us gawking after her.
“Did she just?” Jae asked, her eyes wide as she stared out the door.
“Yep. Come on.”
Putrid. That’s the only word that filled my hungover brain as I stepped into the kitchenette.
The whir of the blender sounded more like grinding screws and bolts than combining whatever ingredients Mama Jo kept adding to the concoction, and the sickly state of green, as it swirled around and around, made my stomach churn.
“What, in the name of all things holy, is that?” Jae asked, her nose wrinkling as she recoiled slightly.
“Sit your butts down and hush. This is my bonafide hangover cure. Tastes better than it smells and does the trick every time.” Mama Jo poured the green gloop into two glasses and placed them on the table in front of us. Hands on her hips, she surveyed us as we eyed the cups of goo.
“I am not drinking that,” Jae said as she covered her mouth and nose with her hand.
“Suit yourself. But you’ve got a long trek back home, and it ain’t gonna be any fun hungover like you are.”
Groaning like a petulant toddler, I picked up the glass and took a hesitant sip. It was thicker than a smoothie and slightly grainy, but it actually wasn’t that bad. Jaelyn eyed me curiously as I took another sip and then set my glass back on the table.
“Well?” she asked, her brows scrunched together.
With a noncommittal shrug, I said, “It’s honestly not that bad. A little… weird. But not bad.”
Mama Jo watched as Jaelyn took a small sip, her lips pulling into a satisfied smirk when surprise colored my friend’s face.
“You’re welcome. Now, drink up. When your stomachs are up for it, there are beignets on the counter for y’all.
” She directed her attention to me and asked, “Walk an old lady to the door?”
After another sip of her—probably magical—cure, I pushed up from my chair and escorted Mama Jo to the door. “Is everything alright?” I asked as soon as Jae was out of earshot.
“Yeah, baby. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. Your aura is… different… today.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction as she assessed me—for what, I’m not sure.
But then her lips thinned into a closed-lip smile, and she bobbed her head like she had found whatever she was looking for.
“Have a safe trip home, baby. And come back to see me, alright?”
With a tight hug and a peck on my cheek, Mama Jo slipped through the door with a finger-wave as she pulled it closed behind her.
Grabbing the beignets from the counter, I settled back in at the table and finished my…
smoothie? Drinkable sludge? Whatever it was, I was grateful for it as the ache in my head subsided, and the sight of food didn’t send me running for the bathroom.
When we finished our breakfast, I grabbed my phone from its charger—thank you, drunk me, for remembering to plug it in—and shot a text off to my aunt.
MAGNOLIA
Thanks for the house call.
AUNT EVIE
A little kitty told me you might be feeling a little rough today.
MAGNOLIA
I’ll give them extra snuggles when I get home. Thanks again *heart emoji*
Monday could kick rocks.
After the drive home Sunday, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with Aunt Evie and my sister.
We hung various flowers and herbs to dry and planned out meals for the week.
I checked and double-checked the week’s orders for CharCutie and figured out what specials I wanted to offer.
All while Maddie furiously typed away on her laptop in the breakfast nook, nibbling on whatever food I put in her radius.
It had been calm and peaceful, but that all changed the moment I walked into the kitchen Monday morning. Aunt Evie was leaning against the counter, coffee cup clasped between white-knuckled hands as she watched the news scroll across the screen.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I poured my own mug. All I got was a head nod toward the TV as she took a sip from her cup and turned up the volume.
“Tropical Storm Melissa looks to be heading our way. Her current speed is fifty-three miles per hour as she slowly makes her way across the Gulf of Mexico, which means there’s a good chance that Tropical Storm Melissa will become Hurricane—”
The mute icon popped up in the top right-hand corner of the screen, promptly cutting off the broadcast as Aunt Evie let out a heavy sigh. “I was hoping we’d squeak by this year without a storm.”
“We still could. It could fizzle out before it ever hits the coast.”
Shaking her head, my aunt pointed toward the table in the nook. “Not according to the cards.”
Spread out across our breakfast table was the most extensive Tarot reading I’d seen my aunt do in a long time. Ten cards lay face up in a Celtic Cross, the answer to whatever question she’d asked glaring up from their faces.
Skirting around me to sit back at the table, Aunt Evie steepled her fingers in front of her lips, her eyes raking over the cards as if she looked hard enough, they would give her another answer.
Though I wasn’t as fluent in reading them as my aunt, there were two that stood out among the rest; my eyes were drawn to the ominous imagery of Death and the flames erupting from the Tower.
“I’ve done this reading three times now, and it’s the same each time. Death, destruction, and rebuilding.”
As I ran my eyes across the cards again, they snagged on the Lovers. Quirking a brow, I picked it up and twisted it between my fingers. “What’s this got to do with the storm?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Aunt Evie hurriedly said, snatching it out of my hand and placing it back in the spread.
“Oookay. Well, we’ve dealt with storms our whole lives. So, we do what we always do. Double-check our enchantments over the property, make sure there’s gas in the generators, and go to the store before all hell breaks loose and all the bread and beer are gone.”
“Magnolia,” she breathed, her head shaking from side to side as she rested her brow in her palms.
“Okay, fine. Margarita supplies, no beer.” When she didn’t lift her head, I slid into the booth next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. “It will be fine, Aunt Evie. It always is.”
It had to be. There was no way we’d survived Katrina and Ida only for some bitch named Melissa to wipe us out.
We had been sitting in silence for a while, both studying the cards as we nursed our mugs of coffee when Maddie walked into the kitchen.
“What’s… going on?” she asked, her brows raised skeptically as her eyes flicked between us and the table.
“Storm’s coming,” I supplied as I watched Aunt Evie run her hands along the card faces.
Head bobbing in understanding, Maddie poured herself a cup of coffee and came to join us at the table. “Do you need help with the enchantments on the shop, Mags?”
“Maybe? I’ll check them when I go in today.”
Maddie joined us at the table, and I let my mind wander as I stared out the stained-glass windows that framed the far wall, the sun’s rays painting the kitchen in a kaleidoscope of colors as it shone through the panes.
The calm before the storm wasn’t just a saying down here; it was a reality.
The sun was always brighter, the wind mellower.
Even the sunsets were more vivid, like whatever benevolent being upstairs was determined to give false hope to those who didn’t know better. But we did.
Downing the last sip of my coffee, I pressed a kiss to my aunt’s cheek and went to get ready to take on the day.