Jack Kursed Read online

  "You could give her up, just like that?"

  "You want me to adopt her? Is that what you're saying?"

  "Why not?"

  "What part did you forget about the fact that I don't age? Unless you have a full-blooded witch in your pocket I don't know about, that's never gonna change."

  Victoria said nothing, simply watching him.

  "She thinks it's weird I don't sleep. And she pisses me off. She's already pissed all over the bed. She's got a TV in her room, but we're always fighting about what to watch down here. She falls asleep with her head on my shoulder when we're on the couch . Then I can't move, because I'll wake her up. And how the hell am I supposed to sneak out and have a one-nighter with her around?"

  "All that, and you still love the child."

  "I love two people," he said, gesturing to Victoria and himself. "That's it."

  "The strongest lies are the ones we tell ourselves."

  "Okay, what's your point? What are we really saying here?"

  "Next time, call me, and I'll help. That's all. We'll take care of it more quietly."

  "So you're saying I can be a good person for Tiffany if I just watch the killing? If only the Brady Bunch could hear us now."

  They sat in silence. It felt good to argue with her again. He didn't realize how much he missed it.

  "Tiffany's okay," he said. "I do like having her here."

  She nodded. "You've changed."

  "Yeah. I don't know if I like that part yet."

  Jack rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Victoria studied him, watched his expressions and ticks.

  "What's on your mind?" she asked.

  "I'm making friends," he said. "It's the weirdest thing."

  She laughed. "Erica?"

  "Yeah. We're friends now. Even if I wanted to have a one-nighter with her, I couldn't, because we're friends."

  "Life sucks, doesn't it?"

  He smiled at her. "Not my life. I'm just trying to figure things out."

  "You want some advice?"

  "No, but you'll give it to me anyway."

  "Don't be afraid to make friends. I have plenty of friends. Some know I'm a vampire, some don't. You've always let Angela's curse control you, instead of the other way around."

  He chewed on her words a moment before nodding. "Thanks."

  "I have to get going. I need to go see what my good friend Dr. Collins is up to."

  "You're still shadowing that clown?"

  "Yeah. Another fun night of watching porno, no doubt."

  "Victoria, listen. I'm...glad we're back again."

  "Me, too. We'll fight, but no more century cool-off periods."

  "Deal."

  CHAPTER 13

  Jack worked over the stove on a Friday night. Broccoli was steaming, rice simmering, chicken grilling on the back porch, green beans nearly ready to go. The scent of delicious food permeated through the kitchen, sending his nose into overdrive. Tiffany was finishing up her homework. She was becoming a schoolwork machine, scoring another B on a recent test.

  Jimi Hendrix transitioned into Dream Lover by Bobby Darin. Jack stared at his iPhone on its dock. He had no problem with Bobby Darin, even seeing him perform live once. It simply seemed like an odd choice for Pandora to make after Hendrix. He was convinced the Pandora music service was an early form of Skynet.

  Tiffany closed her books and made her way to the iPhone dock. Jack pointed a wooden spoon at her.

  "Hey, what are you doing? Get away from there."

  She poked at the iPhone with a smile. Dream Lover cut off and was replaced by a strange sound he’d never heard before. He nearly put his hands to his ears.

  "What is that?"

  "Miley Cyrus. She’s awesome."

  "Holy hell. How did we go from Hendrix to Cyrus?"

  He raised an eyebrow as Tiffany ran around the couch three times. She did a little slide maneuver, reminding him of Risky Business. She expertly lip-synced the words to the song and moved in a way that he assumed was dancing. Now he had an idea of what she did the rare time she spent in her room.

  "What...are you doing?"

  "I’m dancing. What does it look like I’m doing?"

  "I thought maybe you were having a panic attack or something."

  "Hey," she said. "I dance good."

  "Well," he corrected. "You dance well."

  She paused long enough to give that defiant look, her hands on her hips and chin out. The stance was a reminder that Tiffany could take on anything.

  "Fine. Well. I dance well."

  "And that’s still a matter of opinion."

  "Let me see you dance."

  "I’m actually not allowed to dance."

  "Why not?"

  "I danced once, back in fifty-seven. Believe it or not, I send off little radio signals, and women go crazy. They swarm from miles around, like some horror movie, trying to get at me. Ripping off clothes, stomping over each other, just to get a glimpse. It’s very dangerous. I’ve promised never to dance again, for the safety of everyone."

  Tiffany stopped dancing and thought about his words. After thirty seconds of thinking and chewing on her fingernails she looked up at him.

  "Nuh-uh."

  Jack leaned his head back and laughed. Tiffany was a hilarious little girl.

  His ears thanked fate as the phone rang, effectively cutting off Miley Cyrus. He set down the wooden spoon and crossed the living room.

  "See? I told you," he said. "Just talk about me dancing, and it all starts. If we have to board the house up, it’s your fault."

  "You’re just making up stories because you can’t dance."

  "Are you kidding me?" Jack shouted after he pressed answer. Tiffany laughed maniacally and ran up the stairs. "Hello?"

  "Uh, should I call back?" Erica asked.

  "Nah, you’re good. Tiffany and I were just having a little argument. And she better hope I don’t come up there," he called up the stairs.

  "Would you two minded if I stopped over?"

  He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Didn’t we do tutoring last night?"

  "Well, yeah. I wasn’t thinking tutoring. I mean...just to hang out. We are friends, aren’t we?"

  "Yeah, we’re friends."

  "I could stop on the way, pick up a pizza or something."

  "Do you even know where I live?"

  "I was assuming you’d share that top secret information with me."

  "That’s not necessary."

  "Wow...I guess that’s a no."

  "No, I mean the food. There’s plenty here. One second." He muted the phone. "Hey, Tiffany!"

  He didn’t see her, only heard her voice from some mysterious hiding spot on the second floor.

  "Yeah?"

  "Erica...Miss Hernandez wants to come over. Are you okay with that?"

  "Is she gonna make me do school stuff?"

  "Nope."

  "Okay. I like her."

  Ten minutes later Jack was moving chicken from the grill to a plate when there was a knock at the front door. Tiffany came out of nowhere, streaking across the house.

  "I’ll get it!"

  He barely caught a glimpse of the beautiful teacher in her figure-hugging jeans and pink blouse. Tiffany grabbed her hand and led her to the stairs.

  "Follow me, Miss Hernandez. I’ll show you my room!"

  Erica managed to wave before disappearing up the stairs. "See you soon."

  In another ten minutes Jack had three plates loaded with food. He set them out on the breakfast bar, listening to the female conversation in the basement, the last stop on the tour.

  "Children," he called downstairs. "Dinner."

  Tiffany and Erica laughed as they came upstairs. Tiffany washed her hands in the sink as Erica admired the meal. She wore her hair in a ponytail, a new look for her. It showed more of her face, and actually drew more attention to her scar. She was gorgeous regardless.

  "Wow," she said. "Do you cook like this for all your guests?"

  "Don’t flatter
yourself. I like to cook. This wasn’t for you."

  "If I don’t flatter myself, who will?"

  "Please. I flatter you all the time. And those jeans, they’re flattering you better than I can."

  She let out that smile of hers to play. She was embarrassed, but also pleased.

  "Jack cooks really good," Tiffany said as she dried her hands.

  "Well," he corrected once again. "And that’s wrong, too. I cook awesome."

  "Can I put on music while we eat?" Tiffany asked. "I’ll put it on real quiet so we can still talk."

  "Yeah, but no Miley Cyrus."

  "What’s wrong with Miley Cyrus?" Erica asked.

  Jack shot her a look.

  "Just kidding," she added.

  Tiffany did most of the talking at dinner. Jack and Erica traded amused looks and laughed at the child. He realized as they laughed and ate that he truly enjoyed the company of these two mortal females. The thought still unsettled him. Victoria made perfect sense when she said friendships were good. But Jack knew he was simply terrible at them.

  After dinner Jack washed dishes. Tiffany again ran laps around the living room, like a race horse. He engaged in small talk with Erica as she sat at the bar. They talked about school, Tiffany’s grades, he mentioned how lucky her jeans were, which drew a roll of the eyes.

  He was surprised when she joined him at the sink, taking a dish from his hand and grabbing a second sponge.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Helping you. Is that okay?"

  "Uh, sure. Just not used to it, I guess."

  "All you have to do is ask," she said with a smile. "That’s what friends are for."

  They washed dishes in silence, their shoulders touching. Tiffany still ran around the living room. She fell once, but got up and kept running.

  "She really is amazing," Erica said. "Her grades keep going up. She’s made new friends in school."

  "I know. I’ve caught her twice now talking on the phone when she should be sleeping."

  "Maybe you shouldn't have gotten her an iPhone."

  "Very funny. But yeah, she is rather awesome."

  "You're not so bad yourself."

  He laughed, assuming she was joking. He met her eyes, only a foot away from his own, and saw she was very serious.

  "I know what happened to her," she said. "I know she was abandoned, and the foster system took shit-care of her. You really are a hero to her."

  Jack felt his cheeks turning red, which caught him by surprise. He stared at the dishes to avoid eye contact.

  "This is only temporary, though. Tiffany knows. She deserves a real family. A mother, father, a brother or something. I just wanted to give her a little stability, that’s all."

  "It doesn’t lessen what you’ve done. I was so bitter after I found out I was...broken. I’d see all these parents who barely wanted their own kids, and I could never have any. You’ve taken this girl in, and she’s laughing and smiling, having fun with life."

  "That’s more her than me."

  She touched his chin and lifted it gently, forcing him to meet her gaze.

  "That’s not true."

  They said nothing, simply staring at each other. Jack couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He was aware something was happening, but his thoughts were swimming. The spell was broken when Tiffany stopped in the middle of the living room, finally tired of running.

  "What do we want to do? Go to a movie? Watch a movie here? Play hide and seek?"

  Jack laughed. "I'm all for a boring night on the couch."

  "I doubt any night with you two is boring," Erica said.

  "Can we have popcorn?" Tiffany asked as she grabbed the remote. "Or ice cream?"

  "You just ate a ton of food. You’re still hungry?"

  "No. But I will be later."

  He pointed at the TV as an item on the guide caught his attention.

  "A Marx Brothers marathon. Leave that on."

  Tiffany wrinkled her nose. "Who are they?"

  Jack glanced at Erica as they carried three drinks to the living room. "You don’t teach the kids about the Marx Brothers?"

  "We’re more concerned about reading and writing, and a little math. You like the Marx Brothers?"

  "Of course. You don’t?"

  "I haven’t watched too many of their movies."

  "You should have seen them live. It was like watching insane people running around on stage."

  "Considering you’re maybe a year or so older than me, that would be a neat trick."

  "I’m full of neat tricks."

  Tiffany sat in between Jack and Erica. They watched half of Duck Soup before Tiffany declared they should compromise, her new favorite word. She found a Pixar movie as Jack feigned disinterest, although he had no problem with Pixar. He winked at Erica as Tiffany shoved popcorn in her mouth.

  Jack was keenly aware of the normalcy of the scene, but how odd it was for him. He was enjoying a Friday night in front of the TV with a young girl and a woman he didn’t plan on seeing only for a night. Erica laughed as the movie played, not because of the humor, but because of Tiffany’s animated reactions. Jack found himself laughing right along with them as Tiffany grabbed his arm and tugged, asking if he saw what she just did.

  Tiffany was pressed against Jack as another movie played. The child’s movements were sluggish and slow. Erica shifted on the couch and covered a yawn with her mouth. He looked at the clock to see it was nearly midnight, typically a sleeping hour for mortals.

  "Tiffany, are you tired-"

  He trailed off when he saw her sleeping, her head resting against his arm. Jack tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. He was tempted to wake her up simply to see her grumpy face.

  He expertly twisted away from her and scooped her in his arms. She made some noise deep within her dream and folded her arms. Erica smiled at him as he carried Tiffany up the stairs. He gently set her in bed and tucked her in, remembering to turn on her night-light.

  Erica was searching for a movie to watch when Jack walked down the stairs. She smiled at him as he took his normal corner on the couch.

  "I’ve seen a lot of little shits teaching," she said. "But Tiffany’s adorable."

  "Little shits," he said. "I hope you don’t throw that term out in the middle of a parent-teacher conference."

  "Depends on the mood I’m in."

  Jack watched with surprise as Erica slipped her sandals off and kicked her legs up on the couch.

  "Just get comfortable."

  "I’m working on it."

  He assumed he would get the joy of her feet inches from him. She apparently had other things in mind as she scooted against him, her back against his shoulder. His body stiffened at the unexpected touching.

  "Don’t worry," she said, sensing his discomfort. "I’m not gonna grab your joystick or anything like that."

  He laughed. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her.

  His arm was pinned at his side. His hand was dangerously close to her ass, and he curled his fingers under his own leg to keep from accidentally touching her. She twisted her head to look at him.

  "Are you comfortable?"

  "Not at all."

  "Yeah, me neither."

  She turned and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to sit more at an angle. Nestling her back against him, she took his arm and wrapped it around her own shoulders, just above her breasts. She let out a relaxed breath as she settled her head against his chest.

  "Now, I’m trusting you not to grab my chest or anything."

  He had to do something with his hand, so he laid it on her shoulder gently. It was an unusual view of a woman for him, one he could perhaps get used to. Her hair wasn’t far from his nose. He enjoyed the scent of her shampoo. She curled her legs slightly and turned away from the TV.

  "Damn. There goes my plan for putting on porn," he joked.

  "Knock yourself out. Just mute it."

  He laughed and switched to the Marx Brothers marathon once
again.

  "I'm not making any moves," she said. "Don't worry. But...this is nice."

  Jack would often feel anger at watching someone sleep. To watch a couple sleep together was even worse, an intimate activity he could never participate in. The last time he was asleep next to a woman ended with a witch pouring a potion down his throat. Holding a woman in his arms only reminded him he could never truly be with someone. He avoided anything besides the one-night-stand.

  But Erica was right. Acting as her personal pillow was nice.

  He discreetly inhaled her scent once again, and narrowed his eyes. It had been a while since he looked up the dictionary definition of cuddling, but he was certain they were close to it. Erica even gripped his arm to pull herself closer.

  Her words said she didn't get involved with her students' parents. Her actions were a little more confusing. Was cuddling involved? They found each other attractive, that much was certain. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he cared for her. If she didn't have her rules, would there be the possibility for more than simple snuggling on the couch?

  Jack crashed back to reality as Harpo Marx chased a woman and honked his horn. Possibility for more didn't exist for him. Erica was a wonderful woman, and he'd love to get to know more about her. But the moment she learned more about him, she would run, and he wouldn't blame her.

  "You have a nice house," she said. "Where's your room? I didn't get to see that on the grand tour."

  Erica asking about his bedroom conjured images of the two of them doing very sexual things on a mattress. But there was no motive in her question, simply curiosity.

  "I...don't sleep much. I sleep on the couch."

  "I keep hearing that. What do you mean?"

  "Medical stuff. Maybe one day I'll tell you."

  "No fair."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You got to see me all sick and ugly. It's your turn to share something."

  Jack smiled, and decided he'd test the waters slightly.

  "Just one thing. Owning a convenience store isn't all I do."

  "Really? What else?"

  "Gardening."

  She laughed. "I saw your garden out there. Very nice."

  Jack stopped short of telling her how wealthy he was. Two hundred years of making money with no concern for the people he crushed led to a nice bank account.