Marci grabbed another glass on the table, who cared whose it was, as long as there was more to drink. Nothing was good enough. Her powers were lackluster. Her casting wasn't anything to be noticed, and at her presentation party, she'd turned her mother's cat into a rat. It had worn off, but not soon enough. The embarrassment was there, forever. Her mother had made sure that anyone who was somebody had been at her coming of age party, probably to embarrass her.
What she wouldn't have given to be a human sixteen-year-old at the time. Now, nearly ten years later and she still couldn't live it down.
"Alle Adams and ..."
Marci stopped listening and followed on autopilot, yanking at the bust line of the dress. The moon dust color the designer insisted on wasn't bad. The stupid beads chafing her under arms was something entirely different.
Taffeta swished as she walked up to the podium, following behind her step-siblings and spouses. All were picture perfect. Marci was going to be lucky if she didn't trip up the stairs.
Marci loathed tradition. The new president handed a gold plaque to her mother, her name magically engraving as it transferred hands. One of the highest honors in my mother's mind was being last year's president of the FOM, The Families of Magic Organization. Marci covered up a snort of laughter with a mock cough, earning a glare from the new president.
She needed to find somewhere far far away from the politics of local covens and the FOM. She sucked in a breath as a zap of energy so strong it forced her to stand straight. A shiver raced up her spine at the energy surge. A quick scan of the crowd and she realized that no one noticed, or maybe it was no one noticed her. An urge to run away hit her harder than it had over the last few days.
She dug her fingers into her clutch. Her phone was in there and offered one step closer to freedom. Then again, what would she tell Jeff? It wasn't a good sign that he was an afterthought to everything she'd been planning. She needed to leave though. Absently her free hand rubbed her forearm.
The roar of the loud claps brought her back to the moment as her mother's long train trailed behind her.
Oh, right. I should follow.
It took every bit of willpower to keep her eyes facing forward and not rolling to the back of her head.
As they left the stage, she kept on walking. Her mother wouldn't notice; Marci had done her part until next year. As she stepped out into the early evening sun, her eyes fought to adjust from the dimly lit hall.
Pulling her phone out, she tapped the screen. A message appeared. Marci always waited for a blip or flip or whatever you were supposed to do when you were in love. It never came. She couldn't find a reason to not be head over heels for Jeff. He was handsome, rich, eloquent, well respected, and yet, nothing. Moving her thumb over the screen, she read his message and did a double take.
Hey baby. I'm alone, head over.
Maybe he'd misunderstood meeting her at the hall? Her mother would be pissed.
Did you forget something?
She waited for a response for a few seconds and shrugged when one didn't come.
"Fine. Let me just come to you again," she said to the air.
She grabbed up the small train of her dress and headed to her car. Maybe she'd grab dinner. One glass of wine and hors-d'oeuvres did not add up to dinner, and he wasn't worth her starving to death.
* * *
She nearly missed the driveway of Jeff's building. Her magic was all over the place. Ignoring it never worked out, but she feared what it meant. She couldn't tell what was at the other end of the magical leash, just where it was leading her. Far, far, away from here.
Glancing at her phone, she still didn't see a response from him. This was unlike him, everything in life was scheduled, and yet even this new spontaneous act wasn't eliciting anything, no blips, no racing heart. Nothing. Grabbing the food off the passenger seat and tossing her heels aside, she headed up to his penthouse.
The elevators closed as she entered the lobby of his building and, even as the words of Jeff and her mother criticizing her echoed in her head over her less than perfect body, she remained numb. Habit forced her to head for the stairs anyway.
By the time she hit the landing, her lungs hated her. She hated exercise almost as much as she hated getting dressed up.
She propped herself against the wall and kept walking, shoulder dragging against the wall, train in one hand, and the bag of food in the other. Karma hated her or she'd be dating a guy on the first floor.
Stumbling to a halt, she knocked.
While she waited, her magic danced along her fingers. The itch too much to refuse, she put the bag down and dug in her purse for her phone. Someday she needed to get organized. Inside her bag was her tiny purse from the party, but she hadn't put the phone back in there. No, that was too easy. Before she could find it, the door opened.
Her gaze traveled the length of the man standing in front of her.
"Working out at this time of day?" She gestured toward his sweat-slicked torso. "You were supposed to meet me at the FOM banquet. My mother's going to have your balls."
He stood in front of the door, keeping her from entering. She stared, wary at his reluctance to move.
"You told me to come over. Don't look at me like you weren't expecting me. I figured the message was some twisted invitation to ditch my mother?"
She grabbed the bag at her feet and stood up. "I brought salads. I didn't know what you wanted, but we'd talked
