WITCHCRAFT (A Paranormal Romance) (34 page)

He's well and truly screwed. The only option is to beg his brother for more money, and there's no way in hell he's doing that. Jared's got too much on his plate. He leans his head back and imagines his soft bed in his own bedroom, and how nice it would be to sleep on that instead of an old couch with a broken spring.

His mind takes him on a tour of his room, exploring how he remembers his bathroom and his TV and his closet. And that's when he gets his idea. He calls up his brother. “Hey, Jared? I need you to bring me that box from the back of my closet and meet me at Joe's ... Yeah, the pawn shop.”

Joe's Pawns is the only pawn shop in a town that is generally intolerant of anything that makes it look less than upscale. It's a large, two story building that was built for the purpose of looking classy. The inside is stocked with two large grand pianos, a gold plated harp, hundreds of mounted game heads, guns, knives, jewelry, and so much more than could ever be labeled. They have some of the weirder stuff, too, like glass eyes and fossilized spiders in amber. Everything is displayed in clean glass cases.

The whole building is guarded by armed men, hired to keep the riffraff out and make the good customers feel safe. Jared and Max carry the box of his football memorabilia into the building and set it down on the table next to the register.

A tall woman with blonde hair done up in a 1950s style victory curl greets them. “Welcome to Joe's Pawns, gentlemen. It's good to see you. I take it you're here to sell?”

Max nods, forcing a smile. “I have some signed football memorabilia, plus a few watches.”

The woman takes them boxes into her arms. “I'll be right back with our purchasing manager, and you gentlemen can sort this out with him.” She carries the boxes with surprising strength, her curvy hips swaying with each step she takes. Before disappearing into a room, she looks back and winks at them.

“She's trying to catch us off guard so they can give us a worse price,” Max says. He's not sure how he knows; he never did a lot of business with them, but the observation floats to the surface unbidden.

“Well, she's doing a damn good job of it,” Jared replies. He's practically salivating over the sexy woman, watching her as she leaves the room and waves to them before going upstairs to deal with another customer.

Out of the same room comes a tall man, his belly round and his face overpowered by a long mustache and beard. Max thinks he looks like someone out of the 1920s, a circus owner perhaps. The man's face is red and stretched with a wide smile.

“Fine items you have here, my boy!” He says, setting the box down. Max looks in and sees that things are much more organized than they were before. The man sticks out his swollen, fat hand and Max takes it. “The name's Joe, welcome to my pawn shop. What were you thinking for all of these items?”

Max swallows hard. He has no idea how to appraise these things. “I was thinking a thousand for each of the shirts, and probably a thousand total for the rest of it.”

“So five thousand total?” Joe runs his hand through his beard, scratching his chin as his gray eyes look to the ceiling. “That's a bit high. I think I could do three thousand for all of it.”

Max balks at the thought. “These jerseys have a lot of meaning for me!”

“Not enough meaning to keep them, though. And that nostalgia can't be transferred to other people. That's what these things are worth, my boy, take it or leave it.”

Max thinks for a second, running his hand through the box and feeling the soft jersey. “Could you do $3500?”

Joe holds out his hand again, his eyes twinkling. “I think we have a deal.”

Max leaves the store unsure about having sold his prized shirts, and even less sure about the money he got for them. Jared looks at his hurting brother and frowns. “I'll tell Dad to call you.”

“Don't,” Max says, defeated. Jared shakes his head and gets into the car.

Poppy doesn't expect it when the doorbell rings. She's still fuming, waiting for Max to come home without any of the things she demanded, and she knows she won't be able to turn him down if he does. She is all he has, and damn if she doesn't like being the savior.

Going to the intercom, she presses the button. “Yes?”

“Delivery,” the voice says. It's not Max's voice. Her brow furrows as she buzzes the front door.

“Come on up.”

The delivery man is followed by Max, who grins as the other man sets down a huge box in the middle of the living room. He tips him before turning to Poppy. “I bought a crib!”

Poppy's jaw falls as she turns to the box. It's plain, with no photos showing off what the crib will look like. “Is it cute?”

“The cutest one there?”

“How did you suddenly get the money?”

He expected her to ask, but his stomach still dropped through the floor when he heard it. “I sold a few things. I'm still trying to find a job, and Dad didn't answer his phone. Look,” he says, tugging on her arm and pulling her toward him. “I know I'm a monumental fuck up, but all I can do is promise to keep getting better.”

Poppy searches his eyes for any sign of that he's making fun or joking. She finds nothing of the sort. It seems the friend she grew up with has grown up without her even noticing. “Well, I forgive you. For now.” She smiles and taps her chin against his chin. “But you still have to look for a job.”

He flashes a big, goofy grin. “Of course.”

11

Atop yoga mats, in a wide circle surrounding a perky blonde woman with fake breasts and a small waist, fifteen women lean back and breathe deep. Some have their husbands and boyfriends with them. Others are alone. Decorating the room are medical posters detailing the male and female anatomy. Some have the stages of growth for fetuses, which Max examined when they first walked in. Beneath the posters, the walls are a relaxing sea foam green. The floors are covered with a plush carpet.

Sandwiched between a black couple who giggle every time the man touches the woman's stomach and a single mom with short blonde hair wearing a track suit, Max watches everyone else as they practice breathing techniques. The techniques are supposed to calm the mother-to-be down as well as help with pain management, but Max can't imagine it helping much.

Poppy's belly wiggles as she leans her elbows against the ground, her eyes wandering up to his and watching him, lost in thought. Throughout the last six months, he's alternated between uneasy and excited, sometimes multiple times per day.

“You okay?” She asks. Max clenches his jaw and looks down at her, his lips twitching up into a smile. This is what he does every time she pulls him out of a spiral of self doubt. It's worrying that the man who is supposed to be acting as her rock is instead extremely unsure of himself.

“Yeah. I just wasn't expecting this. I was expecting...” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck.

“A classroom?” Her red hair is splayed out on the floor, flowing in waves down to her hips, all around her. A couple strands tangle around his pinky finger.

The teacher stands up and tosses her golden hair behind her shoulder. Her smart purple blouse brings out her beautiful olive skin tone and her sharp nose and thin lips give her a powerful, no-nonsense presence. Poppy shoots Max a wry glance as she continues to practice her breathing.

“Yeah, I guess that's it. I didn't expect it to be so hands on.”

“That's perfectly normal. Max, right? This must be your first.” She grins and kneels down next to them, placing a hand on Poppy's stomach. Poppy gasps at the sudden sensation, then relaxes against the floor again, spreading her legs a bit wider. Her hips have been sore for the past couple of months, no matter how much she stretches them. “Have you been getting to know the baby? They can hear you, you know.”

Max's mouth falls open before he regains composure. “They can? I thought all they could hear is the heart beat.”

“The little miracles can hear your voice. You should talk to them, and let them listen to classical music. Don't forget to give mom some love too, of course. When's the last time you massaged these hips?” The teacher asks, pushing gently on Poppy's legs to help her stretch farther. “Are you still having sex?”

Max's face burns. He looks down at Poppy and imagines that one night with her, the taste of her skin, and how she had pulsated around him. His manhood threatens to betray his thoughts. “Uh...”

“Because you should be. It helps with some of the pains. Just be careful in the ninth month, you can sometimes cause premature labor.”

“Uh,” Max says again, his eyes falling to Poppy's beautiful,
puffy lips
as the blonde woman stands up and goes back to the center of the room. He pictures his hands tangling in her hair, tugging her face forward so he can taste her lips again. He wonders what her rounded stomach might feel like below him, as he enters her and presses against her aching hips as...

“Max, pay attention!” Poppy says, slapping his knee. She's blushing from the conversation, too, her mind replaying the night that started all this. Having a sudden roommate has made it increasingly hard for Poppy to give herself any sort of release, since her apartment is so tiny. She's pent up and in desperate need of an orgasm, but with Max sleeping on her couch, there's just no way.
Well, there is one way.
The thought comes unbidden and she blushes again.

“Alright, let's switch to another technique. Men, get on the floor in front of your women and take their legs. We're going to work on some stretches.”

The first few stretches are easy and normal enough, helping the mothers stretches their hips and backs by putting their legs on either side of them. The next stretch calls for pulling the legs apart and stretching them.

Max and Poppy glance at each other before he pushes her legs open, pushing on her knees until they're almost touching the ground. He pushes down just a little too hard, and she gasps. The sound sends a primal jolt through Max's body and suddenly all of his senses are heightened. He can smell her girlish smell. His hands feel her pulse through her skin, their hearts matching in beats.

He pushes down a little bit more until she arches her back and moans. Her sounds make her self conscious, looking around, but no one is paying attention.

Max takes his hands off her knees and presses against her thighs with the palm of his hand, rubbing her sore muscles. Each press sends a wave of pain and then release throughout Poppy's body. His hands work their way up her thighs until he gets to her pelvis area. He looks her in the eyes as he presses down, and she moans again, louder this time. A few of the men around them chuckle, which brings them both crashing back down to earth.

Max spends the rest of the class trying to hide his erection and stop thinking about Poppy's body beneath him.

“Jared!” Poppy says, greeting the boy she used to play football with in the backyard. Jared steps in, his hair now dyed pink. He leans down to kiss the short woman on the cheek as she giggles. “What's going on with your hair?”

“Oh, hah.” He chuckles, running his fingers through his short hair. He's as handsome as Max, but Poppy has always seen Jared as like a little brother. She never got to have siblings, so she took to Jared very well, spending almost as much time with him as she did Max. “I lost a bet with Dad. I have to dye it brown again before the weekend is over, but until then I have to look like this.”

“Aw, it's not too bad. Did you show your girlfriend yet?” Max says, stepping out of the bedroom. He grins at Poppy, his hands falling to his hips. “I finally got the crib set up.” He shakes his little brother's hand, still grinning.

“Girlfriend? When did that happen?” Poppy asks, her eyes wide. Her little brother is growing up!

The youngest Cooper brother rubs the back of his head and blushes. “Just last month, actually.”

Poppy crosses her arms over her round stomach. “And when were you planning on letting me meet her?”

“Well, uh, whenever you want is fine!” Jared turns to his brother, begging for a way out of the line of fire. Max just shrugs, walking to the kitchen laughing to get a glass of water as Poppy grills Jared. When he comes back out, Jared's hands are on Poppy's stomach, holding it and staring with wonder.

A strange jealousy flares up in him, a primal desire to claim what's his and fight off his brother. What a ridiculous thought! His brother isn't here to conquer anything, and Poppy isn't his to begin with.

“I can't believe she's almost here!” Jared says, pulling away from her.

Poppy smiles, looking down at her belly. It's been a long while since she could see her feet, and even longer since she could fit into her skinny jeans. Somehow, she's okay with that, and pregnancy is starting to feel right to her. There's no more morning sickness, though she is peeing more often and is tired all the time. Her skin glows and she's spent a lot of time reading, since she had to quit her job. Money has been rough, but with Jared's help they're making do.

“Do you want to come in and watch the game?” Max asks.

Jared shakes his head. “I can't. I have a fundraiser I have to deal with for school. I just cam by to drop off your check for the month. Will three thousand dollars do you?”

Max sucks in air and winces while Poppy's eyes widen. The money is barely enough to cover their expenses but it's also three quarters of Jared's monthly allowance. Max has been looking for work, applying anywhere that wouldn't turn him down just because they're intimidated by his family. No one is hiring, though, and if they are hiring they're not interested in his resume. He's screwed.

“Yeah, that should be enough. Is it hurting you?”

“Nah, not too badly. I think Dad misses you, though. You should go try and make up with him, just come by the house for dinner.”

Max grimaces. “No... I don't think that's the best idea.”

“Come on dude,” Jared answers, throwing his hands up. “You two are better than this. Dad loves you, he was just a little disappointed.”

“I don't care. He threw me out on my ass, and now I'm struggling to keep Poppy afloat. If he wants my forgiveness, he'll need to come to me for once. I'm tired of grovelling.”

Jared crosses his arms and stares at Max for a few moments. He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head and shrugs. “If you insist. I'll look out for any job openings and get back to you, man.”

“Thanks, bro.” Max holds out his hand and Jared pulls him in for a hug.

Max turns to Poppy, who is lounging on the couch watching him. “Are you sure you don't want to call your dad, Max? I mean, I know he has a temper but he does love you.”

Taking Poppy's legs and lifting them, Max sits next to her and massages her calves. She leans her head back and smiles at the feeling, her swollen ankles tingling at the pressure his fingers are putting on them.

“I don't know, Poppy. I know we need to do something to fix this situation, but...”

“Listen,” Poppy says. Her red hair is draped over the side of the couch like a red waterfall, gorgeous and shining in the afternoon light. “You've done your best to support me, so all I can do is support you. If you don't think you can call him, then I won't push you to. I do think this baby should meet her grandpa, though.”

Max stares at Poppy, in awe at her beauty once more. Her supple lips shine with lip gloss, her freckles a bit darker from getting some sun recently. His hand creeps up her leg to her stomach. “Have I told you how lovely you look pregnant?”

Poppy's face flushes, her eyelashes batting rapidly. She turns away. “Don't flatter me, jackass.”

“I'm not, I swear.” His hand slides against the roundness of her stomach. “I mean it. You're beautiful.”

Poppy snorts and rolls her eyes, but her face stays hot.

Days later, Max is out looking for work again. He's exhausted most of his online options, and almost all of his offline options too. He walks out of a restaurant that he tried to apply to as a waiter, only to be told that it's owned by his father. Leaning against a street lamp, a long sigh escapes him.

His cell phone jingles in his pants, vibrating against his legs. Digging the phone out, he eyes it suspiciously. It's his dad's ringtone, and his dad's contact information. “What in the hell,” he mumbles. His thumb hovers over the button to accept the call, but his stomach twists and his body freezes. The call goes to voicemail.

Max's muscles release and his hand drops. Just as he's about to put his phone back into his pocket, it rings again. “God damn it,” he growls, thumbing the line on and holding the black gadget to his ear. “Hello?”

“Max?” His dad sounds unsure, maybe self conscious. It fits poorly on Alexander Cooper's booming voice and surly temperament. The tone puts Max on edge.

“Yeah, Dad, it's me. What's up?” Even though he's irritated at his own anxiety, he's more worried about his dad than himself. There's a few moments of silence on the other line, and then a sigh. “Dad?”

“Look, can you come by the house? We need to talk.”

“Yeah. Is everything okay?”

“Just... come by. I'll have lunch set out. Will Poppy be okay if you stay out for a few hours?”

Hearing his dad say Poppy's name so calmly, Max clenches his jaw. Either his dad has forgiven Max, or something is seriously wrong. “No, she expects me to be out looking for a job all day. I'll be over right away.”

They hang up and Max jumps into his car, rushing to the house where he used to live. The gardener is out front playing with one of the dogs. Looking up, Max sees Alexander watching him through the upstairs window. He's in the room where Max's mom used to do her crafting.

Worry gnawing at him, Max bounds up to the door and pushes past the maid as she rushes to open it for him. “Sorry,” he calls back as he leaps up the stairs three at a time. Bursting through the white door with the worn and tattered door frame, Max faces his father.

Though Alexander's back is turned to him, the patriarch of the Cooper family's back bends in the silhouette of old age. The back of his head has a few grays not yet dyed that sparkle in the light that filters through the open attic window to the South.

“Dad?” Max ventures, stepping closer. Alexander turns and smiles, handing his son a glass with a golden liquid in it. The bottle on the table behind him holds one of Alexander's most expensive rums. Max takes it with a shaking hand.

“Hey, son. Long time no see. How's Poppy?”

Max sips the rum. “She's good, actually. Getting big. We just learned that we're having a girl!”

“Any news from Charlotte?” Seeing the look of pain in Max's eyes, Alexander grimaces. “Sorry.”

“No, it's okay. And no, I haven't heard from her. She's still in India.” Both men lean against the walls on either side of the window that overlooks the driveway and front garden. The mail-woman walks by and hands the gardener a handful of letters, no doubt mostly bills and invitations to parties for one of the Cooper men.