“I want to speak with Damon.” Not toweringly tall but threateningly larger than her, he finally entered the shop, leaving the door open.
“The only Damon I know isn’t here.” She said that firmly and quite capably, she thought.
His gaze swept over her springy curls and purple cropped T-shirt adorned with a sparkling peace sign. Dismissing her, he looked over her shoulder. “Tell him his father is here.”
“Ummm, I just said Mr. Jackson is not here. Can I interest you in a high-quality crystal ball? Or perhaps one of our quartzes? Your chakra could be improved with...” Evie took a deep breath, slipped into aura mode, and nearly choked. The man was seriously brown. Shit brown, if she could be so crude. His soul must be suffocating under all that bad attitude.
“Call him, will you? I don’t have time for this nonsense.” He slapped his hand on the counter and stalked back to the doorway.
“If you know him, you’re able to call him yourself.” Evie had written down Jax’s cell phone number but her rebellious streak raised its head. Slavery had been outlawed for good reason.
He snorted and pulled out a cigar.
“No smoking inside,” she warned.
He snipped off the end and applied a match. “Tell Jax I’m waiting.”
“Not until you listen to what I’m saying.” She’d be enjoying herself except she figured he didn’t hear a word she said.
As expected, the jerk didn’t turn around or reply.
With nothing better to amuse herself and always curious about how other people’s heads worked, Evie slipped into her mother’s office. Mavis kept a blazer for when she had to talk to the mayor or his council. Evie had always hated the blazer, but she grasped its purpose—it made her mother look more male and thus, acceptable. The coat was too large, of course, but it was a lovely blue that looked good with her purple T-shirt. She found a hair brush in a drawer, along with some barrettes, and pinned up her unruly curls. She found a black silk scarf she draped around her throat in a facsimile of a tie. Checking the mirror on the back of the door, she decided she looked as masculine as she ever would.
She returned to the front, produced a pad of paper from beneath the counter and a pen from the bank. “You wish to speak with Mr. Damon Jackson, is that correct?” she asked in her deepest, most officious voice.
El Jerko swung around, blew a smoke ring, and regarded her with hostility. “That’s what I said.”
No, you didn’t, but a good office worker wouldn’t argue with the boss. Not smiling, Evie wrote down the name. “If you will be so good as to give me his number, I’ll give him a call.”
As anticipated, he rolled off a number when confronted with the kind of toady he expected. Hiding a grin, Evie jotted down the numbers. Chin high, expression placid, she picked up the landline receiver and poked the numbers in. She got voice mail. “Mr. Jackson, there is a gentleman at the shop who wishes to see you. No, he has not given his name. Very well.”
She hung up and continued in her officious voice. “He’s otherwise occupied. May I take a message?”
“Dammit, I told you I’m his father! Get him back on the line.” He crushed out the cigar and stomped across the old wooden floor.
Ha! Finally got aura-shit’s attention.
With exaggerated politeness, Evie poked the numbers again and handed him the receiver. By this point, she’d deduced Jax wasn’t answering any call with his father’s phone number on it. But then, he wasn’t answering her calls either. Or the shop’s, anyway, since cell phones were out of her budget.
The old man slammed the receiver down on the voice mail message and pointed at her. “You. Tell him to get that kid back in school and his tail home instantly or his ass is grass.” He stormed out, chewing on his cigar.
Whooeee.
That called for a good negativity clearing. Evie lit some sage and switched on the shop’s meditative harmonics. A minute later, Loretta walked in, wearing a frown.
“That man who just left has a raisin where his bubble should be. Can I eat my lunch here? It’s noisy in the cafeteria.” She settled on the windowsill with the lunch bag Evie had prepared for her.
A raisin and a shitty aura and that was Loretta’s lawyer and Jax’s father? No wonder Jax walked around with his aura battened down. It was a pity she didn’t practice black magic. She’d like to plague the old coot with a few toads.
She called the house phone instead of his cell. Jax answered instantly.
“Your father just sprinkled us with goodness and light and left you a message of great wit and wisdom. Would you care to hear?” Evie pried the confining barrette out of her hair.
Jax’s rumbly voice muttered an expletive. “What in hell is he doing here? Did he see Loretta?”
“She saw him. She says he has the soul of a raisin. His aura needs a good karmic cleanse.”
“I might start believing in your mumbo-jumbo if he wasn’t such a supercilious A-hole that everyone recognizes him for what he is. I’ll have Roark follow him, see if he meets with anyone. He didn’t come all the way up here just for me.” He hung up.