Page 71 of Witch You Would
“Good,” Emelia said. “Now go win so you don’t have to sleep in my bathtub.”
We said our goodbyes, but I was already gone, plotting my next move.
Step one: find Leandro. Step two: grovel and hope he’d forgive me.
Chapter 15
Gil
Knowing I would have trouble sleeping, I had a couple of edibles and one of my emergency meds. By the time I woke up, theclock on the nightstand said it was after eleven. My eyes felt a little gritty, my head a little foggy, but at least I’d gottenmore rest than in the past week or so. I’d also successfully avoided all the unhappy thoughts that had started piling up nowthat I was conscious.
We’d almost lost again. Being saved from elimination by two spell wrecks in a row meant that, unless we got lucky at someoneelse’s expense or we upped our game hugely, we wouldn’t make it to the final round.
We absolutely couldn’t count on Dylan and Zeke or Felicia and Charlotte fucking up. It was true that magic could be ficklebecause of its intrinsic reliance on various individual casting conditions, despite some consistently repeatable methods.Anyone could spark a pre-made charm or potion, anyone could learn to craft their own spells based on known theories and practices,but anyone could also make unforeseeable mistakes. Especially with spells created from scratch.
Still, I had my suspicions. They were about my height, supersnobby, and could have modeled for a fashion magazine. If I was right, she’d bumped Doris into the table, and that had knocked over Penelope’s potion.
It still hurt that Penelope had assumed it was my fault. I’d thought we were vibing—not in the gross Isaac way, but in thegood, on-the-same-wavelength way. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe I wanted to believe she was catching feelingsfor me, when it was pure lust.
Breakfast was over, so I ordered room service. It was good to be a Spellebrity. I had the hotel attendant leave the food outside,then covered my mustache-free face with my shirt, and yoinked the tray inside. While I chugged coffee and scarfed a thousandmini-waffles and an entire pig’s worth of ham, I planned my day.
Step one: check texts, voicemails and emails, including the stuff that had auto-filtered into the “not important” folders.Mostly that was ads, but also anything from an email I hadn’t added to my white list.
Step two: text Sam and/or Ed to see how things were going withMage You Lookstuff. I doubted anything was on fire, and if it was, they’d probably handled it. There might be good news, though. I sureneeded some.
Step three: call Grandpa Fred to see how he was doing and beg him for advice.
Maybe that would be step two.
Grandpa Fred was pretty much the model for my life and career. He’d always talked to me like I was a grown-up, instead of like my ideas and goals needed to be deflated and trashed like old birthday balloons—even when my brilliant plan was to become a dinosaur robot when I grew up. He helped me think throughthings instead of shutting me down and ordering me to do what I was told. And he never put conditions on his time and attention the way my parents did.
Ugh, my parents. I should call them, too. Step four? I had talked to them before filming started, figuring that would giveme a solid week before one or both wondered what I was up to. My dad had his own life, but freaking out was basically my mom’shobby, and she’d use any excuse to indulge.
Step five: talk to Penelope. Hopefully Grandpa Fred would help me figure out what to say to her.
I felt like I’d be breaking character no matter what. Leandro Presto would have no problem accidentally spilling a potion.He would laugh it off and say it had all worked out. After the other night, he might even try to kiss Penelope until she forgotwhat she was mad about.
But then what? She’d be kissing a character, not a real person. Leandro, not me. And the more that idea dug its claws intomy brain, the worse I felt for leading her on. Lying to her.
Sometimes I wished I’d never started being Leandro Presto. The good parts were worth it, but the bad parts... The bad partswere tough. As an adjunct professor, I had the same low pay and lack of benefits, the same stress of wondering whether I’dhave a job next semester. But at least I could date anyone except my students.
Well, I didn’t have students anymore since I’d quit for the show, so no worries there.
Enough. Voicemails and texts, oldest first. Memes from Sam, motivational quotes from Ed. Spam, more spam, the alumni association begging for money I didn’t have. Long message from mymom about how if she had an emergency I wouldn’t know because I never answer my phone.
Emails next. Sam and Ed were on top of Leandro Presto business, nothing to worry about. My regular email was, as expected,mostly spam and ads. A note from my agent about the direct deposit for my show income—hell yeah. Bills set to autopay. A coupleof questions forDoctor Witchthat I could answer later.
Then I found one from Penelope Delmar. Subject line: Hi this is me from Espinosa’s Spell Supplies!
I dropped my phone like it was on fire. It bounced off the bed and hit the floor with a thud, face down. Panic spiked in myveins. Did I break it? As long as I didn’t look, it might be okay, or it might not.
Don’t be a chicken, Gil. I climbed down and picked it up, turning it over. No cracks. Enchanted phone cases for the win.
I opened the email, my stomach tight.
Dear Gil,
I’m writing this in a hurry I won’t be able to check email for a while but I wanted to tell you I got fired from Espinosa’s.I don’t know what my boss might do if she reads our emails but just in case she sends something weird or rude I wanted youto know it wasn’t form me. And you won’t be able to email me there anymore.
