A Little Light Magic Page 23

  “I’ll show you,” Tori said. “After your gig.”

  It was past two by the time they got back to Tori’s. Tori’s sides still ached from all the laughing she’d done while Johnny was onstage. He had real talent. He was as relaxed telling jokes to strangers as he was goofing around with his family—his family minus Nick, anyway. He’d gotten more applause than the other three acts combined.

  He watched with hooded eyes as Tori set the box containing the spell kits on the sales counter. “Got any love spells?”

  She looked up at him. “Yes, actually.”

  “So why don’t you cast it on Nick?”

  She looked away. “Bad karma. The witch I got them from made me promise never to cast a love spell for a specific person. And to never, ever cast one for myself.”

  “So in other words, a spell to attract someone else’s faceless dream man might be okay, but one that’ll slam sense into my brother’s thick head is a no-no?”

  “Something like that,” she said as she undid the tie on a bag. “Here’s your spell. Blue is for good luck.”

  She slid the contents of the kit onto the counter. This time there was just one item packed with the candle—a scallop shell. She scanned the instructions. “It says to cast the spell near a large body of water, preferably an ocean.”

  “Well, isn’t that lucky? We’ve got one of those right outside.” Johnny tugged her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “Let’s go.”

  The contact was unexpected, and more intimate than it should have been. Tori went still.

  “Wait,” she said as he pulled her toward the door. “It also says you have to put something that symbolizes your wish into the shell before the spell is cast.”

  He thought for a moment. “Do you have a newspaper?”

  “Yes, but it’s a couple days old.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She found a copy of the Press in the kitchen. Johnny turned to the page with the television schedule and ripped out the entry for Franklinville Hospital.

  “ ‘Will Dr. Marshall survive?’ ” Tori read over his shoulder.

  Johnny let out a breath. “God, I hope not. The good doctor is a sanctimonious asshole. And the guy who plays him is a rotten actor. How he got the part, I’ll never know.”

  “His face?” Tori suggested. “His body?”

  “Then you’ve seen FH,” Johnny said with a rueful laugh.

  “Hasn’t everybody? Dr. Grant Marshall is Hot with a capital H.”

  “Shit, you, too?” He tossed the newspaper to the floor. “Damn it, who am I fooling? I’ll never get the part of Dr. Marshall’s replacement. I’m too skinny, and not nearly good-looking enough. Who the hell cares if I can act?”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not that hard on the eyes. And I don’t think anyone could ignore your talent. You were fantastic tonight.”

  “I love you, too, babe.” His tone was light, but the teasing spark had faltered. “You know, Nick thinks I should quit the auditions and concentrate on my ‘real’ job.”

  Tori didn’t doubt that for a minute.

  Johnny put his palms on the kitchen table and leaned toward her, his expression more intense than she’d ever seen it. When he spoke, his voice actually vibrated. “Nick doesn’t understand. He never did. He thinks the stand-up gig and the auditions are a distraction. But I hate the construction business. The only reason I can work for Santangelo Construction during the day is because of the comedy and the acting. If I didn’t have that, I’d wind up in a padded cell.”

  “Then why work for Nick at all?”

  “Because of Ma. She wanted me there. She says Nick needs family to watch his back. But you know what? It’s not true. Nick doesn’t need anybody. Nothing gets past him. He’s a friggin’ machine.”

  Tori opened her mouth, but didn’t get a chance to reply. Johnny’s color was rising. He straightened and pressed a fist to his palm, cracking his knuckles.

  “I’d be lying if I said that’s the only reason, though. I went to work for Nick because I’ve always wanted to make him proud of me. You don’t know what it was like after our father died so suddenly. Ma was a mess. Dad left a lot of debts. Our house was newly built, and mortgaged to the hilt. Santangelo Construction was leveraged past its worth. But Ma couldn’t handle anything more emotionally taxing than getting up in the morning and going through the motions of living. We were in real danger of losing everything; did you know that?”

  “No.”

  He expelled a sharp breath. “I don’t know how Nick held it all together. He was only two years out of high school, but he refused to declare bankruptcy. He took over Ma’s finances and worked like a dog to keep the creditors at bay and straighten things out at Santangelo Construction. And in the middle of it all, Cindy up and left him. Alex did his part by getting a scholarship to the police academy, and Zach enlisted in the navy straight out of high school so we’d have one less mouth to feed. I was only nine when Dad died—what the hell could I do? Leigh was sick and crying all the time, so I told her jokes.” He made a sound in his throat. “Somehow, Nick pulled all of us through. And he was only twenty, and a single father, with a daughter who was in the hospital with asthma attacks about once every month. He grew up fast.”

  Tori was stunned. “My God. I didn’t realize.”

  “By the time I was eighteen, somehow Nick had scrounged up enough money to send me to a state college. Ironic thing was, I didn’t want to go. But Nick and Ma insisted, so I went. I can’t tell you how pissed Nick was when I dropped out and moved to Hollywood.”

  “I’ll bet he wasn’t pleased,” Tori agreed. But she didn’t think Johnny heard her.

  “I thought after all the school productions I’d starred in, it would be a snap to get an acting job. God, you wouldn’t believe what an idiot I was.” He picked up the newspaper he’d flung on the floor and tossed it back on the table. “It wasn’t easy coming home with my tail between my legs after I’d run out of money.”

  “I can imagine it wasn’t.”

  Johnny’s head came up suddenly, as if he’d just remembered Tori was there. He gave her a wry grin. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to bore you senseless with my emotional baggage. Your homecoming had to be rougher. At least I didn’t come home for a funeral.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Tori said. “I miss Aunt Millie. She was my only family, and I enjoyed my visits with her in the nursing home. She never made me feel guilty that I wasn’t around more. I thought she’d always be here for me.”

  He touched her cheek with his fingertip. “I’m sorry.”

  They stood there for several heartbeats, gazes locked. Then Johnny seemed to remember himself. A sheepish look flitted through his eyes and his hand dropped.

  “Hey,” Tori said, her voice too bright. She picked up the candle and the forgotten scallop shell, and located her matches. “Where’s that Franklinville Hospital TV listing?”

  Johnny opened his fist. “Right here.”

  “Put it in the shell.”

  They walked to the beach with a good two feet of space between them. The stretch of shore was quiet except for the crash of the surf.

  She thought of Nick, working through his grief at his father’s death while trying to save his home and provide for his mother and siblings, and deal with his wife’s desertion and his daughter’s health issues. No wonder he was so driven, so serious. So cautious.

  They arrived at the ocean’s edge. She set the candle into the wet sand and put the shell with its scrap of newspaper next to it. Johnny built up a curved wall to act as a wind block.

  “Is the tide coming in or going out?” Tori asked.

  Johnny examined the shoreline. “Coming in, I think.”

  “Good.” Bending, she lit the blue candle, murmuring a prayer as the flame caught and burned. Johnny stood next to her. He was so close she could feel the rise and fall of his breath.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “We wait for a wave to extinguish the candle
and take your wish out to sea.”

  “That’s all? Aren’t you going to chant bad poetry? Or maybe get naked?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  Laughter bubbled into her throat. Just then a wave rushed them. The surf splashed their ankles, spraying high over the sand wall Johnny had built. The flame went out. As the water receded, the scallop shell went with it, disappearing in a swirl of white froth.

  “That a good sign?” Johnny asked.

  “The best,” Tori told him.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Sometimes, it takes a family member to point out the obvious.

  “Tori’s having a baby,” Nick told Alex over cheesesteaks at Atlantic City’s White House Sub Shop. Too late, he realized he should’ve waited for his brother to set his coffee down. The cup cracked against the tabletop, hard, sloshing burning coffee over the side.

  “Ouch! Shit,” Alex said, shaking droplets off his hand.

  “Sorry,” Nick mumbled. He yanked a napkin out of the holder and shoved it in Alex’s direction.

  Alex eyed him as he mopped up the mess. “You wanna run that by me again?”

  “Tori’s planning on getting pregnant,” Nick clarified. “She was expecting a year ago, with her ex, but she lost the baby and they split. Now she wants to get pregnant again.”

  “And you’re okay with that? I thought you didn’t want any more kids.”

  “Apparently, I’m not going to have anything to do with it. She’s decided to use an anonymous sperm donor.”

  Alex stared at him for a beat, openmouthed. Then, “And you’re going to let her?”

  Nick exhaled. “What right do I have to stop her?”

  “Well, for starters, you’re seeing each other. That should count for something.”

  Nick picked up his Coke, even though he’d already finished the bottle. “Sure, we’re seeing each other. Or rather, having sex.”

  He grimaced. “Okay, so it’s great sex—mind-blowing sex, if you have to know. But it’s not like we’ve been talking commitment or anything.” He set the bottle back down and started fiddling with the saltshaker. “Damn it, Alex, I like Tori. I like her a lot. But a baby? Now? Hell. I’m not ready to think about getting married again.”

  “Last I checked, marriage wasn’t a requirement for fatherhood,” Alex said dryly. He plucked a fresh napkin from the holder, took his pen from his breast pocket, and started doodling.

  “So…what, you think I should play stud for Tori? Knock her up and leave her to have my kid as a single mother?”

  Alex looked up. “Did I say that?”

  “Damn it, Alex, no child of mine is gonna be raised anywhere but under my roof. How the hell could Tori ask that of me?”

  Alex drew another series of lines on his napkin. “Did she ask? Before she settled on the donor plan?”

  “Not in so many words, no. But she hinted. I got pissed and walked out.”

  Alex studied him. “You serious about her?”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said honestly. “I’ve only known her a few weeks, but she’s the first woman in a long time that…Hell. Maybe there’s something there, if we give it time. Six months, a year…”

  “Tell her that, then. Ask her to put off the pregnancy.”

  “I tried to, but she’s got reasons for wanting a baby soon.” He explained Tori’s health problem. “She won’t take hormones, won’t have surgery. She figures pregnancy’s her cure.”

  Alex grimaced. “You know, if Tori does get pregnant, everyone will assume the baby’s yours.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I’ll look like the world’s biggest asshole. And she’ll be carrying another man’s child.” Nick slammed the table with his palm. “Goddamn it.”

  Alex pushed his drawing over to his brother. Nick picked it up. Alex had drawn Nick standing between a brick wall and a large boulder.

  “What are you going to do?” Alex asked.

  Nick crumpled the napkin in his fist. “Not much I can do, is there?”

  Leigh rushed into the shop, late for work.

  “Sorry,” she told Tori, breathless. “I was with Jason.”

  Tori stopped refolding the tie-dyed T-shirts a pack of vacationing teenagers had left in a wrinkled heap the day before. “How are things going between you two?”

  Leigh avoided her gaze. “About the same. Oh,” she added, pulling an envelope from her pocket. “I almost forgot. Dad left this on the kitchen table this morning. It’s got your name on it.”

  Tori took the envelope, her heart tripping at the sight of her name in Nick’s bold handwriting. She’d been hoping he’d call, but maybe it had been easier to put his feelings in writing.

  No. Apparently, he had nothing to say, because the single item inside the envelope was a bank check. It was drawn on his personal account, in the amount of two hundred and forty dollars. The exact amount Tori had paid the boutique manager for Nonna’s stolen necktie.

  Heat rose, flushing her cheeks. “Didn’t you tell your father to deduct this from what I owe him on the shop?”

  “Yeah. I did. He said you didn’t owe him anything.”

  Little red starbursts appeared in Tori’s vision. “Excuse me a minute.”

  She escaped to the kitchen and punched in Nick’s cell number. One ring, two, three…after the fourth, it switched over to voice mail.

  Tori made a sound of exasperation and dialed his office number.

  “Nick’s here,” Doris told her. “But he’s in an important meeting right now. I’m holding all calls.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be free?”

  “I’m not sure, Tori.”

  Tori hesitated, then forged on. “Well, then, maybe you could help me. I’ve misplaced the invoice Nick gave me for the work on my shop. Could you make up another one?”

  “Oh, it would be no problem, dear, but I don’t know anything about your job. Nick told me not to open an account for you. He said he’d handle it.”

  Tori hung up, fuming. Johnny was right. Nick seemed determined not to take money from her. In exchange for what they’d done in bed? The thought made her ill.

  Maybe that was why he didn’t have a problem walking out her door without a word.

  “I’m going out,” she announced to Leigh as she reentered the shop. With tight, angry motions, she gathered her purse and car keys from under the counter.

  “Tori! Wait a minute.”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned. “What?”

  Leigh was waving Nick’s check at her. “You forgot this.”

  She drove all the way to Atlantic City before she realized she had no idea where Nick’s office was.

  It took her twenty minutes to locate a pay phone. God. Was she the single cell-phone-less person in America? She finally hit pay dirt at a grimy gas station, where—amazingly—the Yellow Pages were still attached to the graffitied shelf below the telephone.

  A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of a brick office building in an older section of town. As luck would have it, Nick was just coming out the front door, briefcase in hand.

  His dark eyes widened as she got out of the car. “Tori. What are you doing here?”

  “This.” She marched up to him, ripped his check in half, and threw both pieces at his head.

  He watched the paper flutter to the pavement. “What’s going on?”

  “How dare you send me a check for Nonna’s tie!”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “What, is it a crime for a person to pay his bills?”

  “What about my bill, Nick?” Her voice rose shrilly. “When are you going to send that? Or do you already consider yourself paid?”

  He stared. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “I am not paying for the renovations to my house with sex, Nick.”

  He couldn’t have looked more stunned if Tori had slapped him. “You think I did all that work for sex? Oh, for chrissakes. You should talk.
You’re the one paying for stud service.”

  She was momentarily rendered speechless. Then, “You are such a jerk! I can’t believe you just said that.”

  His expression was unreadable, but she saw his eyes flick toward her stomach. “So, have you gone and done it yet? Are you pregnant with some stranger’s child?”

  She couldn’t look at him.

  “Well? Are you?”

  “Is that why you haven’t called these last few days?” Her stomach cramped, and she pressed her palm there, willing it to relax. “You don’t want me to have your child, but you don’t want me to have anyone else’s baby, either? That’s hardly fair, Nick.”

  He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tori, you’re killing me with this, jumping into this baby thing half blind. If you’d just stop to think it over logically…”

  A sudden, quiet stillness settled over her. Colin had said those exact same words. If you’d just stop and think logically, Tori, you’d realize an abortion is the best thing for both of us….

  It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. Tori struggled to find her voice. “It’s none of your business if I’m pregnant or not.” Her hands shook as she fumbled in her purse for her checkbook.

  “What do I owe you, Nick? Tell me, and I’ll write you a check. Then everything will be even between us.”

  He stared at her. “Okay. Fine. You want to even things up? The going rate for all the work I did is ten thousand dollars.”

  Tori gaped at him. “I don’t have that kind of money!”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I haven’t sent a bill?”

  “I can give you a thousand,” she said, scribbling. “I’ll pay the rest as soon as I can.”

  Nick sighed. “Look, Tori, I don’t want your money.”

  “I want you to take it.” She shoved the check at him. “Please.”

  He looked at the check, then at Tori. “You’ll need it for the baby,” he said quietly.

  “Please, Nick. I don’t want this debt hanging over me.”

  He stared at her, and she at him, for what seemed like forever. Until she became aware of a figure moving between the parked cars on her right.