Page 10 of All My Witches
“I’m not sure this is the eighties,” I cautioned. “It merely reminds me of theeighties.”
“Does it really matter?” Landon rested against the pillows. “We don’t have to play, Bay. She’ll let us out eventually. She’ll have no choice. We can spend the entire day in here … in this eighties bedroom … and spend alone time together. We don’t have to look out there and see what horrible things she has planned forus.”
It was a thought, although it wasn’t one I was particularly fond of entertaining. “We’ll get out faster if weplay.”
“You don’t know that. We haven’t refused to play yet. We have no idea what will happen if we don’t engage with her ridiculousstories.”
He had a point, still … . “I’m going to look around. You can stay here. I’ll come back and tell you what’s going on when I have a better idea. You can make your decisionthen.”
Landon was incredulous. “Do you really think I’m going to dothat?”
I shrugged. “No, but I think you need to work yourself up to play this go around. It won’t hurt for you to rest while I look around and then reportback.”
Landon’s expression was grim. “I’m not playing.” He was stubborn under the best of circumstances. He obstinately grabbed the remote control from the nightstand on his side of the bed and clicked on the television. The volume was high and caused me to jolt as a voice – a voice that was oddly familiar – started tospeak.
“Previously onAll MyWitches… .”
Uh-oh.
“What’s this?” Landon furrowed his brow as he stared at the televisionscreen.
The announcer’s voice dronedon.
“Jericho Steele, an undercover police officer, continued to work his case even as danger closed in at everyturn.”
“Son of a … that’s me!” Landon jabbed at the television. “Look at that. It’sme.”
As if drawn by something outside of myself, I sat on the end of the bed and focused on the television. The man on the screen was clearly Landon, although he was dressed much differently and apparently had trouble keeping his shirt on … at least if the montage was to bebelieved.
“This isn’t good,” Imuttered.
Landon was beside himself. “Oh, what was your firstclue?”
I ignored the sarcasm and kept my attention trained on the television. The voice reminded me of my mother, and I was certain Aunt Tillie did that onpurpose.
“Jericho’s biggest problem isn’t the mobster who wants to kill him; it’s the woman who has stolen his heart.” Someone who looked remarkably like me – although with a much more expensive and impractical wardrobe – appeared on the screen. “Echo Waters is a former model, current artist, possible bar owner and potential philanthropist who married an evil man. Michael Ferrigno is a mobster known for three things: his charisma, his ruthless ambition and his pretty if conflicted wife. Oh, yeah, he’s also known for his rather impressivedimples.”
Landon snorted. “She named you Echo Waters. That is just …mean.”
“Laugh it up, Jericho,” Imuttered.
“Soap opera names arestupid.”
He wasn’t wrong. I rolled my neck until it cracked and continuedwatching.
“Jericho is determined to bring down Ferrigno no matter who gets hurt in the process. Unfortunately for Jericho, he might not be able to follow through on his promise because his love for Echo runs deep … really deep, like to the tips of his toes deep. Like if there were giant sharks living in hidden trenches at the deepest part of the ocean, we’re talking thatdeep.”
“Oh, geez.” Landon slapped his hand to his forehead. “This isunbelievable.”
I lifted my finger to silence him, intent on thetelevision.
“Joining Echo and Jericho on their journey are Cora Devane, a former spy and current fashion designer who married for money and now suffers for love,” the voice said as Thistle’s image appeared on screen. Her husband looked like an extra fromCocoonhe was so old and wrinkly. “Cora never loved Dominic Woods, but that’s okay because she gets her thrills with his son, DarkoWoods.”
I wasn’t surprised when Marcus appeared in a scene with Thistle. His handsome features looked right at home on a soapopera.
“Wait, Thistle is married to the old dude, but sleeping with his son, who just happens to be Marcus?” Landon was baffled. “That sounds about right. Wait … did she say his name was Darko Woods? Like Dark Woods? Who picks soap opera names? I mean …seriously.”
“I don’t know.” I was fascinated by the story playing out on the television, so I couldn’t spare much effort for Landon’s disgust. “Let mewatch.”
