Stuck with a Spell (2 page)

I
laid in my hospital bed at the NYU Langone Medical Center
looking out the window past the liquid that was supposed to serve
as my dinner. Watching the fluid move through the IV tube hooked up
to my arm, I struggled to comprehend what had just happened to
me.

One minute I’m sitting in my favorite
Manhattan eatery enjoying my entree, and the next thing I know, I
feel this incredible burning sensation pressing into my neck,
almost as if I was being strangled. But how could I be in the
middle of being strangled? No one was close enough to me to have
their hands around my neck.

I’d gasped, feeling a gigantic rush of
air mix with the fire and heat pressing into my skin. Then another
gasp, which caused a giant ham bone to lodge in my
esophagus.

I can just imagine the headlines in
tomorrow’s Post:

Top New York Literary
Agent Hank Aldredge Chokes on a Ham Bone

That ought to sell some papers plus get
quite a few click throughs for the online version. And I could use
the publicity. Positive or negative.

Checking the readings on the gazillion
machines I was attached to, a nurse interrupted my gossip rag
reel.

“
Now no worries, Mr.
Aldredge, one of our Patient Care Representatives is in the process
of getting ahold of your wife,” she said, while tapping my IV tube
to get the liquid flowing.

Shit! I’d forgotten to update my
insurance forms regarding my new ICE person. There was no way my
ex, Samantha, would give a rat’s ass that I’d almost choked to
death. And she definitely wouldn’t want to still be my emergency
contact. Hell, she’d be disappointed she wasn’t responsible for my
death.

It wasn’t as if I could stop ‘em from
contacting her though, especially with this stupid tube down my
throat.

Trying to get the nurse’s attention, I
grunted. Oh God did that hurt.

I then flailed my arms as much as I
could amidst the yards of plastic connected to my extremities. The
results of that effort? The nurse simply cranked up my meds
dispenser, mumbled how sorry she felt for me and left the
room.

I was sooo fucked. Good thing I wasn’t
on life support. If I was, once they got in touch with Samantha,
she’d have ‘em pull the plug.

“
H
ow did a gorgeous little thing like you decide to go into
nursing?” I used my ultra suave Darryl Riley, sweet talking skills
to jump start a conversation with the hot young thing checking my
bandages.

I’d always been brilliant at sweet
talk. Ask anyone. Except for my ex. Don’t ask her. Nothing I did
sat well with Liza.

Seeing how much extra attention my
condition warranted made me wonder if I should always be so vain.
Perhaps not looking my best and being less than GQ ready had its
advantages. This might just be another fantastic way to pick up
great-looking chicks.

But wow, talk about a rather sobering
experience. I was lucky to still be able to pick-up chicks period.
Thank God for the fact I used plenty of product in my hair.
According to my doctors, that’s the only thing that had saved
me.

Decapitated. Oh my God! I can’t believe
I was almost decapitated!

If it hadn’t have been for my
super-strength Menscience hair-styling pomade, it would have been
an “off with my head” moment.

“
That bitch! What a total
bitch!”

I blasted off with the first Queen of
Hearts endearment, way too loud for a hospital environment. But
with the second proclamation, I damn near catapulted myself right
out of my intensive care, burn center unit bed.

“
Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Riley,
did I hurt you?” My bodacious blond bombshell of a nurse asked,
looking as if I’d mortally wounded her by using the
B-word.

“
Not you, Sweetheart. I’m
sorry. No, definitely not you, Baby.”

But just wait till I get ahold of my
Bitch of an Ex, I thought. I never should have married that
witch!

Screw the fact she made my nurse look
like nothing special. Liza Spitznogle may be a real looker, but
she’s also bat shit crazy. So damn crazy, I’d bet that my now fried
scalp had something to do with one of that psychotic bitch’s
hexes.

Well, she’d tried to hex me. I was sure
of it. But none of her stupid-ass Voodoo spells ever worked like
they were supposed to.

It didn’t matter how far I travelled to
get away from her, she still fucked with me!

How the hell could I be in Sweden while
she was down on the farm in Indiana, and I still wasn’t
safe?!

“
Brigitta Baby, I need to
make an international call. Be a doll and get my cell phone out of
my trousers, would you please?”

What I would give to have those
trousers on right now. But, yeah. So much for dreaming. Thanks to
Liza, I had nothing but nightmares. Very bad, Voodoo-based
nightmares.

“
L
et’s go get you cleaned up. Then we can discuss this,” I said,
putting my arm around Liza and leading her up the back drive in the
direction of her old pickup truck.

“
I hope you’re not thinking
about taking that shotgun with you.”

Judging by the sound of Nicky’s voice,
he wasn’t kidding.

“
I second that. In fact, I
think I’ll just hold onto it,” Captain Allen said.

Go
figure
. I’m worried about what Liza’s
already done, and those two crime stoppers are already stewing
about what she’ll do next. Although, I couldn’t blame them for
their concern. The woman was a total instigator of major
disasters.

“
Don’t worry. I’m not
touchin’ Sweet Pea. I’m just taking care of Liza,” I said, then
opened the passenger door so she could climb in.

Sweet Pea was Liza’s nickname for the
arm cannon that accompanied her everywhere she went. Leave it to
her to have a name for her shotgun. But I’d be willing to bet that
Sweet Pea wasn’t the moniker either Nicky or my Captain would have
chosen. Liza and Sweet Pea were nothing close to a Mary and her
little lamb partnership.

“
Why don’t you be a good
host and get everybody else settled in for the night?” I suggested
to Nicky.

He shook his head and kicked some snow,
but then he did as I recommended and started to steer everyone back
to the house. At least that was settled. Now, onto the witching
hour maestro.

I’d expected Liza to raise holy hell
when I suggested that I drive, but she didn’t make a peep. I guess
she was in more than just a mild state of shock, which didn’t make
me feel any better about this situation.

Actually, if all of this wasn’t so
surreal, dangerous, and possibly deadly, it might be funny. For all
of the chaos the woman causes, there’s usually a ton of good laughs
to be had too.

I settled in behind the wheel. Unlike
most city gals, I do know how to drive a stick shift. But inside
the cab, this damn thing looked like a big rig. I swear the shifter
had to be three feet long. It appeared that wanting to drive Liza’s
baby blue 1968 International pickup truck and actually driving it
were two different things.

We lurched into first gear and started
to roll down the steep drive. No power steering. Holy
shitballs!

It took everything I had to guide us
onto the plowed-out path without crashing headlong through deep
snow banks into the woods across the road from Nicky’s
farm.

No wonder Liza was so damn strong. Her
truck wasn’t intended to be driven by the likes of me or any
average woman. This ride was fit for no less than Zena, Warrior
Princess.

Unfortunately, the turn into Liza’s
drive was a helluva lot sharper than the rest of the turns I’d
somehow managed to make. But I made it. Now, we had to wind our way
up a steep hill and then slice to the right.

I had my hands full, but I was
determined. And when I set my mind on something, I always find a
way. Besides, I had to thaw out this woman’s troublesome mind and
figure out what she’d done to our exes.

We slid to a stop under a giant
Sycamore in front of her house. Fact was, her place was completely
surrounded by massive grey and white trees. Their tops looked like
huge skeleton hands. Given the subject we were about to discuss,
that wasn’t the most welcoming thought. Hell, it was just downright
eerie.

“
You get yourself cleaned up
and warmed up, and I’ll make us some tea,” I said, getting out of
the truck and motioning for her to do the same.

“
Thanks, Samantha. I
appreciate you caring about ole’ Aunt Liza. I know I’m a little out
there, so to speak, so it’s nice to know that I’ve got you in my
corner.”

“
Don’t mention it. We women
have to stick together. Now, let’s get you into the
house.”

With Liza safely in her master bath, I
busied myself with the tea. The kettle was just starting to whistle
when my phone rang.

It was a New York number, but I didn’t
recognize it. Maybe it was a new client.

“
Hello.”

“
Mrs. Aldredge?”

“
This is
Miss
Samantha Aldredge.
Not Mrs
,” I said,
immediately pissed off about the glaring error and wishing I hadn’t
taken the call.

“
I’m calling from NYU
Medical to inform you that Harold Aldredge has been admitted to our
facility.”

“
Okay. But why are you
calling
me
?” I
asked, having the distinct and unsettling feeling I was about to
learn part of what “a spell going awry” meant.

“
His provider has you listed
as his emergency contact.”

Feeling rather numb and way off
balance, I reached for the countertop to steady myself.

“
Well, we’re divorced. I
shouldn’t be his...wait. You said emergency contact. What kind of
emergency?”

Screw the mess-up that I was still
married to the bastard, I had to know what Liza had done to
him.

“
Mr. Aldredge experienced a
serious choking episode.”

Add to the numbness in my limbs a now
queasy stomach.

“
How long ago did this
episode occur?”

“
They brought him in about
an hour ago.”

An hour? That was just about the time
we heard Liza’s explosion. I seriously needed something a lot
stronger than tea.

“
Is he going to be alright?”
I know I asked the question, but it came out in such a soft squeak
I could barely hear it myself.

“
I’m sorry...what was
that?”

“
Is he going to be alright?”
I repeated the question, still scared shitless to hear the
answer.

“
Yes, ma’am. He should be
released within a day or so.”

“
Thank you for letting me
know,” I said, somewhat relieved.

“
Just doing my job, ma’am.
Have a good day.”

Finished with the call, I somehow made
my way into the living room, although I couldn’t even feel my feet
touching the hard wood floors as I walked. All of this was
beginning to feel like a dream. Unfortunately, it was too early to
tell if it would be a good dream or day or a very bad
one.

Needing to clear my head, I stared out
Liza’s large picture window, trying my best to let my mind wander
toward a solution.

Before I reached a satisfactory
conclusion, I was distracted by a splash of color out of the corner
of my eye. I turned toward the brilliant kaleidoscope. Dolls.
Voodoo dolls. Dozens of ‘em. Arranged inside a glass front display
case.

Each one was dressed in its own
distinctive way...except for a little group that immediately stood
out because they were all male, wearing the same clothing, and had
a whisp of wild hair that appeared to be heavily waxed. There was
no question who those bad boys were supposed to be - Liza’s
ex.

Crap. This guy was doomed.
One of these days, one of her spells
would
work. And then he’d be
toast!

Apparently, this wasn’t the first time
she’d pulled this sort of stunt. She had her own little cottage
industry with the sole purpose of making her ex’s life a living
hell.

Not to say that I wouldn’t be
interested in something similar for The Hankster, but only if I
could guarantee the results weren’t deadly. Where Hank was
concerned, I was shooting for inconvenient and misfortunate
occurrences, not lethal actions.

“
Sa-man-tha?” Liza was
calling me from the kitchen.

She sounded even more rattled than
before, which couldn’t be good for anyone.

“
In here,” I said, taking a
seat on the couch, continuing to study her Voodoo doll collection
to see if I saw any others dressed like Hank.

She came in, handed me a cup of tea and
sat down next to me on the couch.

I was right. She was definitely rattled
at an even more disturbing level than when we returned from the
scene of her last crazy stunt.