Page 18 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

“Well done. But you’ll want evidence, won’t you?”

Good point. I’d need evidence that this weirdo made him cancel, because I was her puppet master, and my wishes were her command.

“Fine.” I closed my eyes again. “And I wish that he’ll immediately call me up to take me out for a milkshake instead.” I leaned back in my chair and watched her.

Estelle closed her eyes and inhaled, her lips curving up in a smile. She looked positively happy. Glowing, really. I didn’t know what her makeup and skincare routine was, but I wanted it for myself.

Ha. I should wish for it.

Seconds later Estelle said, “Done.”

I lifted my palms to the sky, waiting. A few long beats passed. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket. Narrowing my eyes at Estelle, I pulled out my phone to check its screen. My smugness dropped. It was James.

My body went cold, and I whispered, “What kind of sick joke is this?”

I scanned the room, on the lookout for hidden cameras or microphones. Was Trish actually Estelle’s accomplice and not her rival? Because there was no way this was really James calling me. It had literally been less than a minute since I’d made my wish. They had to be spoofing his number so it would look like him on my caller ID.

“Well?” Estelle said encouragingly. “Answer it.”

With sweaty, trembling fingers, I fumbled with the on-screen button to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, so…my date,” James said slowly, as though uncertain why he was calling me.

Like he was under a spell. Like mind control was occurring.

I swallowed and stared at Estelle.

Or maybe this phone call was just another layer of deep fake—they were simply synthesizing Trish’s voice to sound like James, and they didn’t realize he usually sounded confident and upbeat. Warm and friendly, and as though he had all the time in the world to focus on you. Just you.

I shook my head. This whole fairy godmother thing was getting too conspiracy theory for me. If I kept this up, within an hour I’d be wearing a tinfoil hat and burying coffee cans of cash out in the woods. This had to be nothing more than a nice stack of coincidences lining up in their favour.

“Yeah, it looks like it’s not happening tonight,” he continued. “Did you want to go for a milkshake?”

For the second time today, I tossed my phone as if it had become too hot to hold, and it clattered across the table, then tumbled off the edge and into Estelle’s lap. She lifted the phone and placed it on the glossy wood surface between us.

“Hello? Char?” James’ voice carried to me.

“How did you do that?” I whispered.

“I’m your fairy godmother,” Estelle whispered back, arms out, her expression radiating happiness.

I scowled and lifted the phone to my ear, one eye on the crazy woman sitting across from me. “Where would we go?”

“Peter’s.”

My phone felt too heavy.

How did Estelle and her hoodlums know that was my favourite place? No, that was common knowledge. Plus, while deep diving into my life, they surely would have hacked my bank accounts, viewed my numerous Peter’s Drive-In transactions, or even just hacked my phone’s GPS and noted how often I landed there.

“Or,” James added dryly, “we could go somewhere ‘fancy’ like Earl’s, except tonight’s water leak could be problematic.” He paused a beat, his tone turning wry and playful. “Or is somewhere like Earl’s not real-woman enough for you?”

CHAPTER4

~ James ~

Something wasn’t right with Char. She’d lied to me earlier about her walk-by. But most importantly, she was always up for milkshakes, and she’d just abruptly ended our call with a quick ‘text you later’ after what sounded like a scuffle with her phone, along with a whispered conversation.

Was she actually on a date? Because if she was, and had to whisper about me to some dude and fight over her own phone, I wanted to find the man and give him a good shake before punting him out of her life. A woman like Char deserved better than that. All women did.

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