Chapter Six

I had compiled a list of women that had had pink threads at all of the parties that Davey and I had gone to. We had gone to three, and I hadn’t gotten back to my apartment until five in the morning.

Late the next morning, I sat in my fluffy hot pink bathrobe, sifting through the names that I had collected from the parties. I took a sip of the super strong coffee that I had made.

From the first party, the one at the Porn producer’s mansion, I could see two who could be immediately eliminated. One, a tall redhead, was clearly a gold digger. She had grown up poor, married money early, and had divorced to great gain. She was now looking for her second ex-husband. The other, a short blonde, was a closeted lesbian. She had grown up in a conservative Christian family. She was now looking in all of the wrong places for a man to bring home to the family.

I sighed. There were two choices that might be good—Caroline’s thread had contained no silver. But Davey had spoken to her for less than five minutes before moving on. I thought back to the singer…maybe?

My iPhone chimed. I picked it up as I took a gulp of coffee. It was a text from Davey.

Got another party in you? It starts at eleven.

Eleven PM?

Nah. Eleven AM.

That’s in twenty minutes.

Yep. I’ll come pick you up.

I stood up from the couch and walked over to my hallway mirror. My eyes were puffy and had dark circles under them from lack of sleep. I wondered how on earth he was able to—wait. I remembered back to the restaurant, when his eyes changed. He was supernatural. Something that was stronger and more attractive at night, but not vampire, since he was able to function during the day.

I groaned, beginning to let magic flow into my under eyes, clearing up the dark circles and then walked into the bathroom. The perks of being a witch were never ending. I painted on some makeup, and then put my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. I dressed frumpily—like I was going to work, not a party. The buzzer to my apartment rang.

~*~

We walked side by side at the party. We were at a mansion in Malibu that overlooked the beach. Davey looked around at the crowd.

“So?” he asked. “Anyone?”

“I’d have to talk to them.”

“But that’s not what you really do,” he replied.

“No,” I said. He knew. He knew that I was a witch. I turned to ask him what he was, but his look made me pause.

“Now might not be the appropriate time for that discussion,” he said. I nodded.

“Maybe we should try double-dating,” I suggested. “I could set you up with one of my other clients. You know, see how it goes.” I was thinking about my other supernatural clients. A smaller group, but a definite demographic.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

“You’re going to have to find someone for me,” I replied. “All of my friends are currently married, in love, or have kids.”

“You’re really good at this matchmaking thing,” he said.

“I’m fantastic at it.” His face changed as he focused on someone behind me. I turned to find a model-perfect woman charging us angrily. Even angry, she looked like an angel. Her blonde hair was in perfect, beachy waves, and she wore a knee-length, thin, silky kimono over a black bikini.

“Are you his new floozy?” she asked me.

“I’m his personal assistant,” I replied.

“So you are fucking him,” she snarled. “Don’t. Save yourself the time.”

“Uhm…”

“He’s not worth it. He’s a total dirt bag.” Another model-looking woman was grabbing her by the arm, dragging her away as Davey was maneuvering me away toward a shiny dancefloor. He placed his hands on my waist, and began to sway to the music. I interwove my fingers behind his neck.

He pulled me closer, and I could feel my heart begin to pound. His face was right beside mine, his lips by my ear.

“You know, this isn’t too bad.”

“It’s not?”

“No. You smell good.”

“Um. Thanks.” I could feel the threads entwined between us. Through the haze, it glowed pink. I felt his hand putting pressure on my lower back, pulling me even closer. I stepped back.

“What’s the matter?” he frowned.

“It’s…this is not professional,” I said. “I am working for you. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” He stepped forward, whispering into my ear.

“Maybe we can take that edge off.” I shook my head. It was the spell—he could get hurt.

“I’m not looking for a relationship… at all.” He frowned. He clearly wasn’t used to being turned down for sex. Ever.

“Um. Wow. Okay,” he said, trying to maintain his cool.

“We should continue with the double-date, though,” I said. “bring someone to be my date. Someone I won’t be attracted to. I’ll bring someone who I see as a potential match for you.” He nodded.

“I can bring my best friend. He’s a bit of a dog.” I laughed.

“Sounds perfect.”

“We can go to the Santa Monica pier.”

“Monday night?”

“Great.”

~*~

I looked up when Mari knocked on the door to my office. She held a box that was elaborately wrapped in pink paper with curlicue ribbons.

“This was just dropped off for you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I replied, pulling the card out from underneath the ribbon.

Sorry for dragging you around. Thanks for sticking with me. XX Davey

“Oooh,” Mari said, leaning against the wingback chair. I unwrapped the package, which revealed a white cardboard box. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was a porcelain carousel. It was elaborately painted. It was tiny and perfect. I placed it on my desk.

“Is it from Davey?” Mari asked me.

“Yes,” I flushed bright red.

“I might be overstepping my bounds here, but you two have really good chemistry,” she said. I might have flushed an even deeper red.

“I am not even going down that path,” I replied. “Especially not with a known playboy like Davey.” I was dangerous enough to men who were monogamous.

~*~

I was at the hospital with Aunt Anna. She was lying in the hospital bed, which made her look smaller than normal. She was already tiny—bird-boned, she would proudly declare. She was doing well, the doctors had said. They were trying to figure out whether or not she needed medication.

“So, tell me about this special lady,” she prompted. “How did you meet her?” Remembering my lie when I had heard that she was ill, I began honestly.

“I hired a matchmaker, Auntie.”

“A matchmaker? There’s something that I had thought was outdated.”

“For sure. But I wanted to meet the one, you know?”

“Okay. So, the girl?”

“Penny. The matchmaker.”

“Ah, and how did you ask her?”

“I haven’t. Yet.” I said. “She’s not interested. We were dancing, and I asked her if she wanted to…you know.” I made a gesture, and she rolled her eyes.

“Davey! You asked her for a one-night stand? A woman who makes her living as

a matchmaker might want something more.”

“No, it’s not like that. She’s setting me up with other women, that’s all.”

“So you lied to me on my death bed,” my aunt was laughing at me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Well, when she’s found you the perfect woman, I want to meet her.” I reached out, taking her tiny gnarled hand.

“You will. I promise.”