Page 3 of Crazy Thing

Add to that the fact that Ronan’s obnoxious sportscar is parked in my favorite spot. Again. My tire drops into a massive pothole as I roll across our parents’ front yard. And then my luxury sedan gets a generous mud bath when I angrily whip the car into the space between Nolan’s and Archer’s vehicles.

Fucking fantastic.

That’sthe kind of day I’m having.

I climb out of my car and slam the door. Then I’m stomping off down the muddy path behind the small ranch where my five exasperating siblings and I grew up. I’m slipping, sliding, and trudging through the bushes in my designer shoes as I make my way down to the local waterfall.

The waterfall is within walking distance from my childhoodbackyard. Usually, I consider myself lucky to have grown up so close to that natural wonder. But with the mood I’m in, it’s the last place I want to be right now.

At some point, one of my Italian Berluti shoes gets stuck in the thick mud.Are you kidding me?I’m forced to cling to a tree like a clumsy idiot to avoid falling on my ass. Growling, I hop around on one foot to free my shoe and shove it back onto my socked foot.

Then I slip, slide, and trudge—a little bit slower—through the woods.

Can this day get any worse?Why, yes. Of course it can.

As I push through the bushes with one hand, I’m firing off text message after text message with my other hand, berating my incompetent assistant for yet another critical mistake. I’ve resorted to text messaging her now because I have an itchy, burning throat, and yelling at my lackadaisical assistant all morning hasn’t exactly been helping matters.

I mean, how hard is it to manage my calendar? She’s had slip-ups before, but this time, the woman screwed up a critical appointment, making me miss a deadline, and ultimately, lose out on a sizable real estate opportunity put together by Liam Kline.

Now, my fellow billionaire investor and our fellow billionaire investor colleagues are all looking at me sideways. Like they thinkI’mthe incompetent one. I’m going to have to do countless hours of work to get back into their good graces.

In other words; it’s all a shit show.

After the third consecutive text message I send her, my phone rings loudly, echoing off the trees.

“This is unacceptable!” I bark out as a greeting to my assistant. “Do you have any idea how much money you just cost me?! You cannot—”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she interrupts me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brightz, but I’ve meditated on this whole ‘employment situation’,and I had a revelation.”

“A revelation?” I echo her, my voice vibrating with rage. “And would you stop calling me ‘Mr. Brightz’?!”

“Working for you isn’t in alignment with my highest good,” she goes on.

I almost slip in the mud again. “What!? Your highest good? What are you even talking about?”

The phone is quiet for a second. Then my assistant speaks. “I quit,” she says conclusively. “Later, Brightz.”

Then nothing.

Silence.

She’s already hung up on me.

Another growl rips from me and I instantly regret it as pain surges up my throat. My fingers leap up to massage my achy larynx.

I’ve been sicka lotlately. It makes no sense. I just keep coming down with all these weird symptoms. It’s one thing after another. If it’s not my throat, it’s my knees. If it’s not my knees, it’s the overwhelming headaches.

But I’m starting to suspect that I’m not actually ‘sick’. I’m starting to suspect that I’ve been…cursed.

I know it sounds crazy but that’s the most likely scenario here. This is Starlight Falls, after all.

My hometown isdifferent. It’s a 5000-person town in Middle-of-Nowhere, Iowa. And the witchy, spell-casting ladies around town have made no secret of the fact that I amnottheir favorite Brighton brother.

I’m pretty damn sure they put a hex on me.That’s the only thing that could explain my recent health problems.

I swear under my breath and stuff my phone into my back pocket. So I don’t fling it off a cliff.

Finishing the treacherous hike down the trail, my attention shifts to the dozens of people who are gathered along the edge of the water.

---