sympathetic magic

Excerpt

Just because they really are out to get you doesn't mean you aren't paranoid  --Steven Brust

CHAPTER 1

      “Come on, man.  It’s me.” Bryan knocked on my motel room door.  “Dude, I just wanna talk.” Then in a stage whisper, he said, “You sure he’s in there?” Lois must’ve nodded in-between sobs ‘cause Bry started banging even harder.  “Noah!  Open the friggen door.”

      “Get lost,” I yelled, scrubbing my wet hair with a towel.   Fresh out of the shower and wearing an old pair of button-flys, I flopped on the bed.

      This time Bry used his fist.  “Stop being a dick, man.”

      “Please, Noah,” Lois whined.  “Let us in.”

      A door was ripped open outside and another voice joined in.  It was the wackjob in 236, the room right next to mine.  “Gotdanged kids!  Shut up dat noise already!  Y’all know what time it is?”

      For such a tiny old fart, he had a voice like a bullhorn.   Definitely a smoker.

      “Piss off, grandpa,” Bry barked.

      The geezer answered with an earsplitting slam that shook the walls.

      I squeezed my eyes shut.  You’ve heard the saying, ‘be careful what you wish for’?  Well, take it from me, it’s not bullshit.  Two weeks ago, I dyed my hair black, slapped on a baseball cap and a pair of wraparound sunglasses.  I had to clear my head, so I left Los Angeles the day after me and Bry’s birthday party. Hopped the redeye to West Virginia without a word to my mom or my peeps.  This brat pack included Bry, my fame-whoring ex-girlfriend Lois, and the three other members of our band, The Ark (Jeff, Spider, and Ziggy).  They’ve been with me from day one.  When I first auditioned for Hawk Entertainment’s Triple Threat talent show.  Triple Threat.  The biggest mistake of my life....

      “That’s it, Noah.  The door’s coming down!”

      THUMP!  THUMP!  BOOM!  BOOM!

      True to his word, Bry started kicking.  Hard enough to rattle my headboard.  As tempers go, I’ve got a pretty long fuse, but Bry’s always been a hothead.  That was reason enough not to open the door.  Still, nobody had recognized me in this armpit of a town, so I’d be tempting fate if I didn’t put a stop to this.  Otherwise, guess who’d be left holding the bag?  

      Yours truly, of course.

      I could just see the headline:  Noah Tyler Trashes Motel 6

      Or worse: Triple Threat Bad Boy Goes On Drunken Rampage

      Scowling, I shoved to my feet and went for the door.  The knob barely left my hand before Bry barreled in carrying a ton of nervous energy and the humid July heat.  Lois lurked by the walkway stairs.  Her face was as red as her new hair extensions.  She was constantly reinventing herself.  Hair.  Make-up.  Religion.  Food.  You name it, she changed it—this according to the mood or obsession of the moment.

      “Noah....” She took a wary step forward.  “I’m—I’m sorry.”

      Ignoring her, I headed for the bed again and plopped back down.

      “Maybe you should wait in the car,” Bry told her, but he was looking at me.

      Her gaze bounced to the floor then back in my direction. “I love you,” she babbled.  “Please believe that.”

      Yeah right.  I didn’t even spare her a second glance.  I mean, what could I say?  Especially since her tears weren’t for me.  She was crying because I caught her with her Daisy Dukes around her ankles.  Still, I had to be honest with myself.  Even though we’ve been together since eleventh grade—off and on—our relationship never had anything to do with ‘love.’ It was more like if I had an itch, she’d scratch it, and vice-versa.  But this was it.  We were done.  Finito.  Kaput.  Besides, I’m an eternal anarchist and—this month—she was Wiccan.  So it would never have worked anyway.