The Accidental Genie (19 page)

A man . . . There was a man that was . . . Jesus. He couldn’t digest this. Not today.

As the short clip ran and as the reporter’s voice droned on, Sloan rubbed his temple.

Hoo, boy.

The reporter jammed the mic into a distraught twenty-something woman’s tear-streaked face and asked, “We’re here with eyewitness, Kris Burns. Kris, can you tell us exactly what happened here today?” The reporter’s tone, a reporter Sloan recognized, usually so even and unbiased, trembled ever so slightly to his sensitive ear. As though what happened to this group of women could happen to her, too, if she didn’t watch her step.

The interviewee’s eyes, dazed and already the size of half-dollars, widened. Her voice began as a hushed whisper of fearful awe, wobbling as she told her tale. “We were all part of the scavenger hunt. You know, to win the free wedding and an all-expense-paid trip to the Cayman Islands . . .” The woman’s voice drifted off into a moan. She bit her lip and shook her head, clearly refocusing. “We had to find the dress with the golden ticket on it. Ohhhh,” she groaned, and shot a confused look into the camera.

The reporter nodded, placing a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, portraying a look of deep sympathy while the camera scanned her porcelain features.

Kris appeared to regain her composure after several more shallow, rhythmic breaths. “Anyway, two women found the golden ticket at the same time. There was a lot of screaming and arguing over who put hands on the dress first and neither of them would let go. I swear, we all thought they were going to rip it in half. So some of the store employees intervened, and it just got worse from there. One of the women . . . Her name was . . .” She grabbed the reporter’s arm and squeezed, scrunching up her face as though she were in agonizing pain.

The reporter looked into the camera and said, “The alleged perpetrator of the crime, Monica Gilson?”

“Yes! Monica was yelling at the other lady. She said she deserved the dress more than her. But the other lady said, in her condition, she’d kind of skipped the need for a wedding and a fancy honeymoon. Then she asked Monica if whales wore wedding dresses. It was pretty mean, and I’m ashamed to admit, we all laughed. So then—” The eyewitness paused and took a huge gulp of air before bravely soldiering on. “Then that Monica lady, who didn’t really need a wedding dress, just went ballistic and screamed, ‘Who the hell do you think you are, you bunch of judgmental sluts? How dare you laugh at me! I wish . . .’”

Sloan winced and tuned out the woman’s next words. He didn’t need to hear what this Monica had wished for. He had the visual. Jesus Christ. What a visual.

The camera panned away from the terrified woman while the reporter gave a solemn nod amidst the shrill pre-labor screams. “You heard that right, Five-Alive viewers—”

Nina flipped the TV off; her look of genuine disbelief shocked Sloan. “Oh, Jesus Christ and a cradle, I thought we’d seen it fucking all. You don’t think this was Jeannie, do you? How . . . ? Can you even believe this shit?”

Marty scoffed at her friend. “Did you really just ask that? Really, vampire?”

Nina gave her head a shake, her eyes as stunned as the woman’s on TV. “But it was a dude, Marty. A fucking dude. Jeannie got a whole store full of women knocked up and a
dude
. And she did it without even being in their vicinity. Hell, she didn’t even
hear
the wish that chick made. She couldn’t have. Last time I checked, she wasn’t anywhere near a bridal store. Which means, anyone,
anywhere
in the world could use those two fucking dreaded words and shit could go down, yo.”

Wanda’s sigh was ragged when she let her head fall back on her shoulders. “Every time we put out a fire, she sets another one.” She raised her fist to the ceiling and muttered, “What? What do you want?”

Sloan had to fight a laugh. It was a helluva lot funnier when it was someone else’s wish granted. “So what do we do about this?” he asked, forcing a snort deep down in his throat. Because in truth, it wasn’t funny. Shame on him for thinking it was funny.

Wanda turned to Darnell, her eyes weary. “Say we can fix this, Darnell. We need to fix this, demon. If that reporter was right about her facts, there were over two hundred women in that store—now all expecting little bundles of joy—including, as Nina so succinctly put it, a dude.”

“C’mon,” Darnell said, putting his hand under Wanda’s elbow and leading her to the door. “We gonna go see where Casey is and fix what needs fixin’. But if me an Casey do the demon hoodoo and make it all go away like we did them people landin’ in hell, it won’t last but a coupla days because it ain’t our spell. Jeannie’s the only one who can break the spell and make it right.”

Mass pregnancy. Jeannie’d created a mass pregnancy.

Sloan had to hide another chuckle. So twelve. So inappropriate.

*   *   *

J
EANNIE
leaned over Nekaar and patted a cold compress to his face, pressing a second one to her own. She didn’t think she had anything left in her in the way of surprise, but knocking up a whole store full of women, including a man, after someone threw a random wish out she’d never even heard with her own ears? It was a little too much like Moses parting the Red Sea from, say, Albuquerque for her. It had to stop or she’d never have any genie friends. Not to mention, she could be creating havoc all over the world and have no prior knowledge it was her in charge of the havoc just because someone had used the words
I wish
.

Turning her attention to Nekaar, she asked, “Better?”

“It is so, madam,” he mumbled, clearly ashamed of his outburst. He hadn’t met her eyes since she’d sat him down in the kitchen.

She slid into the chair beside him at her table for one and reached out a hand, cupping his forearm. “I’m sorry about Burt. I’m sure he had good qualities. Those people on Facebook are just meanie butts is all.” Maybe he was kind to small animals, seniors, and little children?

“No,” he whispered, his voice heavy with sadness. “No. They are right, madam. Burt was a blight on the djinn community. He did more bad than good, and he lived as though djinn law did not apply to him. No one liked Burt. Not a soul. He was scum. He was also a fashion disaster. It is so.”

She made a face of sympathy, but Burt’s imprisonment had her very curious. What did you have to do to end up locked in genie jail—forever? “May I ask a very personal question?”

His nod was that of agreement, his square chin remaining close to his chest.

She hesitated for a moment and then decided it was better to just get it over with so she had a frame of reference for things not to do when you’re a genie. “What did Burt do that made you curse him into the bottle?” What was so horrible that your own brother would curse you away forever?

Nekaar’s lower lip trembled when he lifted his shiny head. “His trickery and deceit sent my beloved away. In return, I sent Burt away.”

“Djinn have girlfriends?” This was refreshing to know. Because someday, when she got back on that dating horse, she’d have a whole new realm to ride it in. Or veil . . . or whatever.

“They do indeed, madam.”

“May I pry further? I don’t want to dredge up painful memories at such a sensitive time.”

He rolled his hand in a
proceed
motion, then folded them together into a large fist.

“What did he do to your beloved that would make you take such harsh measures?”

Nekaar’s sigh was bereft, his somber expression distorted with pain. “As I’ve said, Burt was full of trickery. A real King of Snark, as you’d say here in your land. He often put himself in a bottle to lie in wait for an unsuspecting victim. He thought it was humorous to dupe the innocent. When the poor soul opened the bottle, Burt would, as all djinn must, offer him his three obligatory wishes.”

She remembered what Sloan had said about headaches, losing your head, and something about wording your wishes distinctly. “I’m guessing a lot of people got
exactly
what they wished for?”

His wide shoulders, shoulders that filled her small chair and overpowered the back of it, shuddered. “Oh, madam, if only you knew the depths of my brother’s deceit and the lengths at which I have gone to correct them. When your heart is pure, the wishes you grant are as such. Contrary to your pop culture beliefs, the majority of recipients use their wishes to bring joy. Do those recipients ask for riches? Indeed. Though, I find in most cases, they ask due to a lifetime of great financial struggle. Do they ask for love? Again, indeed, and it is almost always with good intent. Also, contrary to what you may have read or heard, an imprisoned genie is quite rare. Obligatory wishes are not as common as you’d think.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Who knows what could happen if I ever get stuck in another bottle again. I think Genie World might explode the way I hand them out like they’re Halloween candy. So we’ve established Burt played games when it came to granting wishes.”

He sniffed his disapproval. “Sadly, when your heart is black and cold, you do not grant joyful wishes. Burt had done this one too many times, and had been given several warnings after we had to tidy up yet another of his messes. There was always a fire to put out where my brother was concerned. I grew weary, madam, as I would hope you can surely understand. I had detached myself from Burt and his hijinks—banished him from my life with the strict order that if he were to tarnish our name again, there would be consequences. His reputation was that of a hooligan, and I wanted no part of it. I warned him!” he shouted with vehemence, then shrank back in his chair again. “During this time of peace and reflection in my life, I met my one true love, Leila. We had a lovely romance . . .” His words were thwarted by a sniffle.

Jeannie winced. This wasn’t going to be an HEA. She just knew it. “But?”

“But Burt, as with everything else, tore her from me,” he yelled, reanimated again as he dropped his large fist to the table. Squaring his wide shoulders, he sucked in a breath. “Burt was jealous of Leila, pathetically so. So jealous he used his gift of trickery, and one night, taking on my visage . . . He convinced Leila that he . . .”

Jeannie blanched, putting her hand to Nekaar’s mouth to quiet him. She didn’t want to hurt him. No one knew how painful it was to dredge up your past than she did. “Shhh. Enough said. I think I know where this is going.”

He shook his head, the pain of losing his girlfriend evident. “Alas, Leila was infuriated. As was I, you understand. So infuriated, I summoned the most horrific of all curses in my ire. It was better this way. Better that Burt could no longer hurt not just mere mortals, but my beloved. Yet, now see what I have done. You are doomed to an eternity with a man you did not wish for. Though, I see the pretty man’s eyes as he watches you, and there are emotions you shall soon address. I see emotions in you, too, madam. Powerful. Painful. Emotions
you
must address . . .” He spoke the last words low, as though he was a soothsayer sharing a secret.

Tears stung Jeannie’s eyes at Nekaar’s uncanny insight. “I have lots of things to address. What I don’t have is a clue about how to be a genie.”

His finger whipped into the air in an excited gesture, the pain in his eyes now replaced with a glitter of excitement. “
This
I can fix! You have no control over your magic, nor do you have any idea the ways of the djinn, as it was thrust upon you rather than given as a gift. But I promise you, in return for my egregious error, I shall be your guide. I will teach you all there is to know about the genie lifestyle. Until then, I beg your forgiveness with a thousand deep regrets.”

“Any ideas on who would want to steal the bottle, and how it ended up at the party I was catering? Someone who was maybe in cahoots with Burt?”

His bald head moved in definitive motion. “I know not, madam. I know only that Burt’s bottle turned up missing a week ago when I did my weekly bottle cleaning. But fear not, I shall search the veils high and low to find the scoundrel who brought this disaster upon you!”

“Why didn’t whoever stole the bottle just open it themselves and let Burt out?”

“Because, madam, I must remind you of djinn law. When one leaves the bottle, another unfortunate soul must replace him.”

Right. Djinn law. “So that more than likely means that the person who got me to open the bottle was in this thing with Burt?” Damn, if only she could remember who that person was. Yay, short-term memory.

Nekaar’s nod was solemn, as if the very idea there could be someone as dirty as Burt out there pained him. “It is quite possibly so.”

“Why would this person who helped Burt, be at the party I was catering? Do genies live here”—she looked around her kitchen with suspicion—“on this plane?”

“They do, indeed, madam. If they are inclined to mischief, a party with the rich and indulgent is certainly appealing for one such heathen. We are simple in our lifestyle, madam. Not all of us require the toys you humans so treasure. And as I have stated, we are not allowed to wish for personal gain. Some djinn find this intolerable after a taste of life on this plane. Thus, they must earn their playthings much in the way you do. Or like Burt, they, as you say, sponge off the kindness of others.”

“So whipping up a flat screen is like totally off the table?” she joked, squeezing his arm.

Nekaar finally let slip a chuckle, and Jeannie found it was pleasant to her ears. “Without question, madam.”

Hopelessness welled in the pit of her stomach again. “Isn’t there anyone we can appeal to about this curse? You know, like the High Priestess of Magic Makers or the Grand Poo-Bah of Djinn? Surely there’s someone who can overrule a huge mistake like this? Maybe pardon me? Parole? Community service? Something?”

Nekaar paused in thought. “There is, of course, a ruler of our realm, and would that we appeal to him.”

She slapped her hand on the table and smiled at him. “That’s good news, Nekaar! How do we find him? Does he Facebook, too? Tweet, maybe?”

Nekaar’s face fell. “No, madam. Yet, even if he did, it would bring you naught.”

Naught. Nay. Nada.
Nyet
.
Nine.
If she only had a hundred bucks for every time she’d heard the word
no
in the past two days. “Why is everything
no
with you people? I mean it’s always, no, Jeannie, you can’t break your mystical bond with Sloan or someone gets dead. No, Jeannie. You’re right; you don’t look so hot in your genie uniform. No, Jeannie. You can’t grant endless wishes because the djinn say that’s impossible. No, no, no. Don’t you think whoever the big guy is in your world would want to do something about me? I’m out—of—control here. I just got a whole store full of women pregnant. I got a
man
pregnant. I’m like the special ops, ninja genie. I’m clearly a burden to your society—so why is the answer no?”