Can’t Predict the Fuchsia
Randy leaned his head into the kitchen’s doorway. “Coloring time?”
I selected a crayon from the waxy rainbow sea covering the kitchen table. “I have every color Crayola could possibly come up with. I think I’m close to finding the one I want, but they don’t exactly have the right tone.”
“So, which one is closest?”
“Fucks yeah.”
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck see ya?”
“What the hell kind of crayons are those, Gertie?”
Randy plucked the single purplish crayon from my hand. “Have you been sniffing glue? Fuchsia! This color’s pronounced few-sha!”
“Okay, fuchsia then. But not quite. It needs to be shaded toward Pink Flamingo, with a touch of Purple Pizzazz.”
“Fine. Gather up your crayons and go to Salem. I’m sure Cosmos can get the paint mixed to your liking. Just remember, you’ll need to have some lighter colors, too. If you paint every square inch of this kitchen in purply-pizzazz-pink-flamingo-fuck-see-ya, you’ll go insane.”
Randy turned around and made it back to the door in three brisk steps. “Brad! Come see what color paint they use in Hell.”
“What’s this?” Brad took the crayons and held them up to the light. “Fuck see ya, I think.”
“Oh God. You, too? Listen carefully, fuchsia. It’s pronounced few-sha, and Gertie here has decided that the kitchen should be painted as purple as Barney’s asshole.”
“Really? Barney the Dinosaur? I didn’t even know he had an asshole.” Brad shrugged and handed the crayon back to me. “Maybe it’s a bit over the top, Sunshine.”
My mouth nearly hit the floor. Like a defiant kindergartner striking a stoic pose, I held my crayons high. “You’ll see, once I get the exact color paint mixed.” I stomped over to the silverware drawer and took out my miniature broom. “Let’s go get some paint, boys.”
“Ah, not so fast, Gertie. The station had three calls last night. I’d like to get a few hours of sleep. It’s still early enough. How about we go this afternoon?”
Randy slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, let the poor boy rest. God knows he won’t get any sleep tonight. Besides, I’m not going anywhere, we have guests checking in.”
“Guests?”
“Yeah. That tour group from the U.K.”
“Wait, you mean that entire coven of witches from Wales? That’s this weekend? Are you ready?”
Randy shooed away my concerns with a prima donna flick of his wrist. “Please. I’m always prepared. I told you, this is going to be the most efficiently run bed and breakfast in the South. I’ve got the Ghost Tour of the French Quarter scheduled. Thanks to Marie Laveau, the guide will be an authentic ghost. She even put together a Voodoo ceremony and a swamp tour. I scrubbed down Olaf’s smelly dragon hide and cleaned up Becky the Nessie’s lair. You already have all the other beasties in good order, so I’m not even concerned with them. Now, go on to Salem without us. Have fun with your crayons.”
Randy strolled out of the room. Brad gave me a kiss and headed up to bed.
“I guess it’s just you and me, Darcy girl.”
I looked around and it seemed like even my cat had abandoned me. I noticed my canvas tote bag swinging on the door handle. A black cat’s tail hung out of the top, twitching with anticipation.
“Aha! You’re all set to go shopping.” With a quick shake of my broom, I changed into a short sleeveless lime green dress, a pair of knee-high tangerine vinyl boots, and a matching floppy-brimmed sunhat.
Now, as everyone knows, you can’t use regular broom travel for a trip to magical Salem, only a portal will do. Fortunately, Esmerelda had created a portal at the Witches Union office.
Another shake of my broom and a quick incantation took Darcy and me straight to the lobby of the Union office. “Portal, portal. Now where is that portal again?”
“I’ve seen a lot of things come through this lobby, but never a giant slice of cantaloupe.”
“Ezzy? What are you doing here on a Sunday morning?”
“Marie. She agreed to set up some last minute tours for the helpless bonehead who has some guests coming into town, so of course I was pulled into this mess. She’s taking care of the Voodoo ceremony and the haunted swamp tour. I’ve got to find a ghost available and willing to take these witches around New Orleans to check out all of the famously haunted places. What are you doing here?”
“Using the portal. I have some shopping to do in Salem.”
“Good. I’m going with you. I need to disappear for a while. Ghosts—Goddess help me! Hard to believe, but some people are bigger pains in the ass dead than they were when they were alive.”
“Great, I’m glad you’re tagging along! You’re always pleasant company, Ezzy.”
“Oh please. Lies like that will ruin my reputation.” Ezzy opened one of the several oak panel doors that comprised the wall behind her desk.
“Give me a second to get into something suitable for Salem.” I’m sure I blushed when Ezzy stripped and looked at me. “Hmm. Let’s see, what would make us look good together.”
She selected a lacy peach dress and white shoes. “That will work. Now, let’s see what kind of mischief a couple of redhead witches can get into, shall we?”
“Oh, I really didn’t have mischief on my list. Just paint—maybe a few things to match the new colors in my kitchen.”
“Of course. No mischief.” Her eyes glistened and her lip formed a sly smile. “That’s what they all say.” With a wink, she took my hand and together we walked into the closet and through a shimmering portal to an alternate magical dimension.