Page 111 of The Witching Hours

No idea what “thing” she meant. Cass was one of those people who thought everybody knew their schedule.

ME: That’s okay. I have a spare pair and I’ve got stuff going on.

CASS: What stuff?

I didn’t even take a second to think over whether I should tell the truth or not.

ME: That vase had a genie in it who looks just like dream guy. I can’t get him back into the vase and I don’t want to make wishes because survey says that never ends well.

CASS: LOL I knew that’s why you were buying that thing. Of course you want to make wishes. I can think of a bunch and I’m not even in your fantasy. K. Later.

I set the phone down on the island and made a vow.If I get out of this unscathed, I will never complain about my life again.Then I set to work on polishing the vase again.

Forty-five minutes later I was finishing up. It was just as spectacular as I’d thought.

My uninvited, unwanted guest joined me in the kitchen while I was leaning against the island admiring my handiwork. He mirrored my pose and leaned against the island next to me. Perhaps closer than was comfortable.

“I’m certain it wasn’t any more striking when it was first forged,” he said.

“That’s a nice compliment,” I said. “I don’t suppose you like it enough to get back in.”

He looked over at me from his vantage point of several inches taller and, with a sly smile, said, “Not a chance.”

TV was only going to improve his use of the lingo. Of that I could be sure.

“How about if we flip the script?” He shook his head to indicate that he didn’t know what that meant. “It means I’ll be the wish grantor. You be the wisher.”

He sighed deeply. “I wish that was possible.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No. Oh. You mean because I said Iwishthat was possible. I see why you think this predicament is wrought with pitfalls.”

“Well, just pretend.”

“If you could wish for anything, what would it be?”

“That exercise is so foreign to my way of looking at things, I’m not sure I’m able to…”

“Wish?”

“Yes.”

“I’m having coffee. You want coffee?”

“What is it?”

I laughed softly. “An acquired taste. If you don’t like it, you can wish up something else.”

I made a pot of Big Bang dark roast coffee then we experimented with how he’d like it. He turned out to be a lots-of-sugar, lots-of-cream person.

We sipped coffee sitting on my little sun porch, inappropriately named because it was always in the shade. In Houston that’s a good thing.

“So, Mitch, tell me about yourself. I assume you were born a jin?”

“No.”

“No?” That was unexpected. “How did you become one?”

---