Flirting With Magick (2 page)

“Um, what else? Not much... um, oh, that cute guy from that show
came into work.” The wine was really doing its job. “I mean my ex-work,
the other day.”

“Who’s that?”

“You know. That nice looking one... from that music show... the host.
Robbie something from ‘Hot, um, something or other’. You know.”

“Oh, yes. That guy.” Mum had a habit of humouring me. “So he came
into your work? Did you talk to him?”

“No, not really, just said ‘hello’.” Robbie Myers was the host of
“Hottest Hits Now,” a music program aimed at teenagers, and he was
looking for new representation with Lancer Morris Management (LMM,
aka my ex-employer). “He had an appointment with Brendan Morris,
one of the agents.” It was the day I was minus coat, so I had tried not to
draw too much attention to the fact that I looked about as sexy as a mop. When the meeting was over, Brendan introduced the new client
to
all the
staff. As I was the Office Manager, I politely waved an acknowledgement
and quickly hid behind my computer. Robbie was very cute, in that boy
band, teen idol, music show host kind of way. I bet he just knew it, too.
He was almost out the door when Brendan called him back so I could
take down his details.
Damn it
.

“Oh well, maybe next time.” Mum consoled me needlessly.

“No, I’ve finished there now.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” She was just being polite. She didn’t really
care who he was or whether I would get another chance to speak to
him. Neither did I. During my time at Lancer Morris, a tonne of semi-
famous people had walked through the door. It was pretty exciting the
first time you saw such-and-such from whatever show, but after you
speak with them and realise their lives are no more thrilling than your
own, you don’t get so excited anymore.

“Oh, before I forget,” Mum interjected. “Your Aunt Marie called
wanting your phone number. Luke relocated to Melbourne a few months
ago; his band’s playing somewhere near where you live, and he wanted
to ask if you could go along. You’ll probably hear from him.” Luke and
I hadn't crossed paths since we were five years old at family get-togethers
, running around naked under the sprinklers in the backyard. The last
I’d heard of my cousin he'd been a moody teenager, strumming his
guitar and listening to “that awful music”(Aunt Marie's words, not
mine) in his room. It would be interesting to see what he was like now.

I finished our conversation before she had a chance to ask about
Josh. I quickly promised to call again soon, adding an excuse as to w
hy I
wasn’t spending my free week visiting them. “Can’t afford the petrol,
Mum. Say ‘hi’ to Dad. Love you.” Then I hung up.

It took three attempts to get Dianne’s number right. Bubbly and
optimistic, Dianne Hayward was my closest friend. We met at sixteen
when she was the new girl at school, had a similar sense of humour,
and her confidence complimented my timidity. Our friendship rapi
dly
developed from there. Back in the days when we were single and carefree
to the point of silly, we would wander the nightclubs three nights a
week. We served as each other’s rescuer should one of us get too drunk
to realise who we were kissing, and egged each other on when objects
of our desire came onto the scene. Then she met Simon. He swept her
off
her feet,
and I lost
my main wing
-girl-– until Kate came along, anyway.

A flustered “Hello?” from the phone interrupted my thoughts.

“Sorry. Are you busy?” Obviously a dumb question.

“Hi, Abs. Um, well, Simon just got home today, and we’re kind
of… catching up.”

“Oops. Good for you. I just called for a chat, nothing important.
Have fun.”

I hung up, embarrassed at having interrupted an intimate moment,
and cursed myself for forgetting that Simon was due back that day from
two weeks away for work.

As it was still early, music videos on TV kept me company while
I thumbed through my new spell book and felt the buzz from the wine
wear off. Flicking the page, the words
Spells for Love
leapt out at me in
all their purple glory.
This could be interesting
. “The most important step
for a love spell is to first acquire self-love.”

Fair enough, but perhaps I could skip that bit. There were no real
issues I could think of. Sure, I thought my face was slightly too ro
und,
my waist a tad too wide, my legs a little too short… and the list did go
on and on. My figure was slightly more 'coke bottle' than 'hourglass'.
But somewhere during my twenty-five years, I'd learnt to focus on other
areas, such as my ample bust or shiny hair. And I was always told I had
lovely eyes. So, yes, I thought I liked myself enough. Did I have ‘self
love
’?
Put it this way, there wasn't any breaking down crying and begging for
Josh to reconsider when he left. Except for that bit when I stupidly
asked, "why don’t we try long distance?” which was met with an 'are you serious?' look.

My pride was strong enough to calmly let him know that of course
I was hurt, but I could deal with it. That is until I aimed a cup at his
head. I didn’t actually throw it; it was part of a really nice set. I wish I
had picked up the supermarket cup, but to swap would have looked
really uncool. Besides, the way he recoiled showed that I got my point
across. Okay, so I wasn’t
that
calm, but hey, I could have acted worse
.
Of course, I wasn’t going to let him off easily or let him leave without
knowing the mess he’d made. That was why I yelled at him to go fuck
himself. I even had enough dignity to wait for the door to finally close
behind him before I let the tears fall freely.

Yep, I think I'd handled it rather well, in fact. So there was a great,
big tick for the self-love column!

On to the hard stuff… “Spells to Find a New Love.” Now we were
talking. Upon reading, each spell got more complicated than the last.
Drawing on a mental picture of my pantry, I only had one or two
recommended ingredients for each spell, nothing to substitute, and I
really couldn’t be arsed going down to the supermarket at that time of
night. Perhaps I could put it off for another day? However, it would be a shame to wait, as Friday was apparently the right day for a love
spell, and the calendar confirmed the moon was in the waxing phase,
perfect for a spell for gain. Plus, I was in the mood.

Then a fantastic idea hit me. I had a small horde of essential oils from an aromatherapy fad I went through and some candles I’d collected
over
the years but kept forgetting to use. I pulled my rose oil and a magenta
candle out of a dusty corner of my linen cupboard
—
the book said these
were both symbolic of romance
—
and headed to the bathroom. I imagined
my bathroom in a protective, lilac coloured bubble, and after lighting the candle, I ran the bath and added a few drops of the rose oil to it. I
then added some olive oil, strictly for pampering purposes. With a pen
and notepad in my hand, I dropped myself into the warm, bouquet
scented water and spent a few minutes relaxing before I began to write:

Qualities I Would Like in a Partner:

nice   happy

funny  sensitive

good-looking sexy

caring  talented

And the list went on...

And on...

When I finally finished, making sure to include such things as 'not
scared to commit or even get married', 'would like to have kids', and
'likes animals,' I laid back in the bath, breathing in the aroma, and
reread what I had written. With every word, Josh’s face kept entering
my head
—
his close-cropped, toffee brown hair, his warm honey eyes,
and his gorgeous smile, which only a select few really got to see. Trying
to shake the image away only made it worse, until I eventually saw a
series of movies in my head of things we had done together and thing
s that maybe could’ve been...

Determined, I read each point out loud, concentrating hard on some
faceless stranger who I was sure, somewhere out there, possessed all or at least some of those qualities.

As the water cooled, I climbed out, blew out the candle, took dow
n
my imaginary protective bubble, and quickly changed into some wa
rm
pajamas. It bothered me that my mind kept going back to Josh, worryin
g
that somehow my inadvertent thoughts of him could affect the outcome
.
I carefully folded up the spell and tucked it inside my bedside drawer
before finally, exhausted from the intense concentration, I climbed int
o bed and had the most restful sleep I'd had in months.

***

The ‘ouch factor’ of my leg and bikini wax the following morning
was considerably less than usual; I figured it was due to my body
realising it was the first day of a work-free week and not wishing to
spoil it by being too sensitive. As it was the middle of winter, the chances
of my legs seeing the open air were minimal, but my four-weekly wa
xing
was a habit dared not break. Josh used to run his hand over my bare legs
on a nightly basis. “You’re due for a waxing, aren’t you?” he would ask
when he felt the merest hint of stubble. I wondered, uncomfortably, if he was running his hand up anyone else’s legs right that moment.

Feeling particularly perky considering the late night before, I spent
the rest of the day with Kate, shopping for things I didn’t realise I wanted
. As always, she managed to convince me to buy cosmetics in colours
I most likely wouldn’t use, shoes I could only totter in for five minutes
,
and a thigh skimming skirt I would never have the courage to wear
outside the house.

“This is 'Operation: Over Josh',” she insisted loudly every time I
objected. “Most women cut their hair after a break up, but we can sta
rt with some new clothes and makeup-– sexy stuff.”

“But he’s not here to see what he’s missing out on,” I protested.

“It’s not for him, and it never will be.” Kate said firmly. I hid a
smirk. She never got along with Josh, and I wouldn’t have been surprised
if she was secretly relishing the idea she wouldn’t have to see him again
and was just feigning sympathy for my sake. She pulled out a charcoal
coloured, lacy bra and undies set and held it up against me. “Try this on. It will make you feel sexy again.”

Later that afternoon, the light flashed insistently on my answering
machine as we wearily entered my flat. “Hi, Abby?” The deep, masculine
voice was unfamiliar. “It’s Luke here, Luke Marshall, your cousin. I just
wanted you to know my band’s playing at Springers tonight. I heard
you lived near there, so I thought maybe we could catch up for a couple
of drinks? We play at eight, so… I guess I’ll see you if I see you. Bye.”

“Springers. Does he know we practically live there? Meet you back
here.” Kate ran out to her flat to get ready, dragging her bags behind her.

Moon: Waxing

Pink candle

Piece of paper

Pen or pencil

Rose essential oil

Rose petals (optional)

Carrier oil such as olive or sweet almond

Engrave a heart into the candle and light it.

Combine a few drops of Rose oil with carrier oil and pour into a warm bath along with the rose petals.

Take your piece of paper and write down all the qualities you would
like in a partner.

Breathe
in the aromas and feel love surrounding you while visualising
yourself in a true love partnership.

When your bath is over,
extinguish
the candle and thank the
universe
.

A HEAVY BASSLINE
pulsed under my feet as we arrived at the pu
b twenty minutes after eight.

“They sound pretty good!” Kate yelled over the music, weaving
through the punters crowding the bar as we made our way towards the
stage. As usual, she attracted a lot of admiring glances in her tight, li
me green shirt. Beside her, I felt positively matronly, trying to make the most of the only assets I had with a low-cut burgundy top.

Clutching our drinks protectively, we found a space to the left of
the stage and surveyed the scene. One part of the pub housed the stag
e
and had been completely cleared of tables. The dance space was taken
up by a predominantly female audience, and once we managed a glimpse
of the performers, it was easy to see why.