Page 5 of Cursed Love
“I’m fine,” he snapped, his upper lip curling in a sneer as he stared at Brandy. His cold glare glowed briefly, and she looked around them. No one else seemed affected by whatever glow she thought she saw.
Erika handed him his cup with a quick reminder that it was hot and moved on to the next order. Mr. Suit removed the lid, and steam billowed from the black espresso before he brought it to his lips. In one swift move, he poured the entire drink down his throat. Brandy watched with a mix of horror and surprise as he finished. He sneered at her before walking out of the shop, leaving his trash on the counter.
“That was weird,” one of her workers whispered to another. “I wonder who threw the newspaper at him.”
“How did he drink that?”
“That was like one hundred and fifty degrees!”
Her employees whispered the same things she wondered. “Erika?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“What about a newspaper?” she asked and smiled at the customer waiting for her.
Erika turned her back to the machines. “I swear a newspaper flew from the stand over there and hit him in the head. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do we have a ghost in here or something?”
“Ghost?” she asked, noting no one else had tuned into their curious exchange.
“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed all the weird things happening lately. Machines turning on by themselves… jugs, pens, cups… all of them have been moving by themselves. It’s getting pretty creepy,” Erika whispered.
Brandy had noticed the same things and saw how scared Erika really was. She nodded and squeezed Erika’s shoulder. “Yeah… it is,” she said, unable to tell the girl more. The last thing she needed was to have anyone quit, so she gave her a reassuring smile and returned to the register.
The humming around her body lessened with the man’s departure, but she still didn’t feel normal. Then again, she hadn’t felt like her usual self since her birthday.
Chapter 3
The toilet seat, schedule, a chair, a cup, and some change were a few things that moved for no rhyme or reason. It seemed it was happening more often with each passing day. Mr. Suit had not returned, but a woman who was immaculately dressed had.
Brandy reacted similarly to the woman as she had the man. They were both cold and scary as hell. Intimidation rolled off them like a red carpet at an awards ceremony.
Individuals like these were the worst people on the planet. They thought their shit didn’t stink. Metal rods were implanted firmly up their asses as they sneered at the rest of society. So, when this latest fine example of humanity had entered the café, Brandy was able to pull up her invisible suit of armor to handle it. Sure, her body had lost its mind. Her internal alarm warned her of the danger, but she refused to let the plastic Barbie doll know she was affecting Brandy.
Like the man, this woman also ordered an espresso, said few words, and drank the scalding liquid with no problem. What she didn’t do was leave a mess or throw down money to avoid the risk of touching Brandy.
However, two separate bags of coffee had flown off the shelves. One fell on the floor behind a customer, and the other traveled about four feet before one of the baristas caught it.
Outwardly, Brandy had put on a façade of concern and chalked it up to whatever excuse would roll off her tongue. Inwardly, she was freaking out.
The moving objects were everywhere. Each day, it happened more often. She noticed they seemed to move when she was afraid or angry. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but Brandy was pretty sure she was at the root of it all. She didn’t know how or why and couldn’t prove it either. She had no control over any of it. If she told anyone, they would have her locked up faster than you could say powers.
As the last one to leave, Brandy shut off the lights and locked the door. The streetlights illuminated her path and a breeze caressed her clammy skin. Walking home the short distance provided her the ability to unwind. Although, if the strange happenings continued she’d have to consider using her car. Brandy pulled out her phone as she walked down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment. She swiped through her recent contact and found Andrea. Her finger hovered over the number as she debated making the call.
Andrea was her best friend, and setting aside the fact she was married to James, Brandy’s brother, Brandy told her everything—except this one thing. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who could tell her she hadn’t lost her mind. Someone who would give her a large dose of chocolate before checking her into a mental facility.
Her body tingled, and after a few more steps, an invisible energy crawled over her skin. Brandy dropped the mental debate and looked around. She didn’t see anyone, but once again, the eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone was there.
She slipped her hand into her purse and picked up the pace. Her heart pounded against her sternum, and fear crawled up her throat with the need to call for help. The problem was she didn’t know who to call or, worse, what the problem was. She could imagine the call now…
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“I’m being followed!”
“Can you describe the person following you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
