Read Online WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) by Victoria Danann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Danann
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formal dress. I was kind of alarmed by that.
While signing the credit card slip for my burger and beer, I said, “Hey, for the, ah, Witches’ Ball, has a suggestion been made about how to dress?”
“I think they’re pretty casual, big on letting people do their own thing.”
If Roger wasn’t competing for one of two places, I would have felt secure with that answer, but as it stood, I wasn’t sure I could trust it. And I didn’t want to be the only guy in jeans while everybody else was in ball gowns and monkey suits. On the other hand, maybe individuality was what they were looking for?
It wasn’t hard to see that I could go crazy with circular arguments. So I decided to ask around at the barbeque. If I needed a tux, I’d manage to get to either Austin or San Antonio and score black tie before tomorrow night.
There was one crispy fry left at the bottom of the basket. It looked too good to go to waste. So I popped it in my mouth to join the party going on in my happy tummy and slid off the stool.
“See you tonight,” Roger said.
“Yep,” I replied and headed for the door.
Wimberley couldn’t possibly be more different from L.A. It moved as slow as molasses. A lot of people would say that like it was a bad thing, but you know what moves even slower than molasses? L.A. freeways. Big city life isn’t all that.
I strolled back to the hotel, grabbed a newspaper from the stack at the front desk, and sat down in the lobby. Seemed like a good way to get a jump on checking out the competition.
It wasn’t hard to recognize my opponents. They were all guys in their twenties and, while I knew from the video that outstanding looks weren’t necessarily a requirement, all the suitors I’d seen in person would definitely be called “hot” by the women I know.
As they came and went from the hotel, their eyes would invariably fall on me sitting there looking over the top of a newspaper. Seemed we were all doing the same thing, trying to check out the competition, look for weaknesses, some way to eke out an edge over the next guy.
After an hour of that I found myself thinking, “What’s vacation for if not naps?”
So I left the paper on the heavy wood and wrought iron coffee table and went upstairs. Before calling the number on the card I was pretty sure I hadn’t had a nap since the time when naps came with milk and cookies. Now I was about to rack up my second in a week. I stretched out on the bed and waited to see what would happen.
I must have fallen asleep pretty soon after that. When I woke, it was five o’clock, which coincidentally was the same time as the barbeque. Shit. I was making a habit of almost missing important events because of over-napping.
After throwing water in my face and running my hands through my hair a couple of times, I raced down the steps and out the front door. Fortunately it was a two minute jog. I knew where to go because I’d seen them setting up for it earlier in the day. There was a quaint-looking café that had access to the grassy river bank below, access that could be denied if you weren’t expected.
The entrance was being guarded by a djin. At least that was my first thought when I saw the enormous black guy with his shiny bald head and single gold earring. As I approached he gave me a big smile, said, “Good evening, Mr. Draiocht,” and opened the picket gate for me to pass through. “Glad you could make it. Just go down the steps. Everybody’s down by the river.”
I could hear that. A crowd of all men using conversational tones produces a distinct low rumble.
“Thank you,” I said, knowing it was an appropriate response but thinking it sounded lame anyway.
Following the sound of voices, I rushed through the café courtyard and down the steps. Several tents were set up in case of rain, but it was a nice night. In fact, it was a perfect night. Seventy degrees that would become sixty-eight when the sun went down. No wind. No insects. Just enough humidity
While signing the credit card slip for my burger and beer, I said, “Hey, for the, ah, Witches’ Ball, has a suggestion been made about how to dress?”
“I think they’re pretty casual, big on letting people do their own thing.”
If Roger wasn’t competing for one of two places, I would have felt secure with that answer, but as it stood, I wasn’t sure I could trust it. And I didn’t want to be the only guy in jeans while everybody else was in ball gowns and monkey suits. On the other hand, maybe individuality was what they were looking for?
It wasn’t hard to see that I could go crazy with circular arguments. So I decided to ask around at the barbeque. If I needed a tux, I’d manage to get to either Austin or San Antonio and score black tie before tomorrow night.
There was one crispy fry left at the bottom of the basket. It looked too good to go to waste. So I popped it in my mouth to join the party going on in my happy tummy and slid off the stool.
“See you tonight,” Roger said.
“Yep,” I replied and headed for the door.
Wimberley couldn’t possibly be more different from L.A. It moved as slow as molasses. A lot of people would say that like it was a bad thing, but you know what moves even slower than molasses? L.A. freeways. Big city life isn’t all that.
I strolled back to the hotel, grabbed a newspaper from the stack at the front desk, and sat down in the lobby. Seemed like a good way to get a jump on checking out the competition.
It wasn’t hard to recognize my opponents. They were all guys in their twenties and, while I knew from the video that outstanding looks weren’t necessarily a requirement, all the suitors I’d seen in person would definitely be called “hot” by the women I know.
As they came and went from the hotel, their eyes would invariably fall on me sitting there looking over the top of a newspaper. Seemed we were all doing the same thing, trying to check out the competition, look for weaknesses, some way to eke out an edge over the next guy.
After an hour of that I found myself thinking, “What’s vacation for if not naps?”
So I left the paper on the heavy wood and wrought iron coffee table and went upstairs. Before calling the number on the card I was pretty sure I hadn’t had a nap since the time when naps came with milk and cookies. Now I was about to rack up my second in a week. I stretched out on the bed and waited to see what would happen.
I must have fallen asleep pretty soon after that. When I woke, it was five o’clock, which coincidentally was the same time as the barbeque. Shit. I was making a habit of almost missing important events because of over-napping.
After throwing water in my face and running my hands through my hair a couple of times, I raced down the steps and out the front door. Fortunately it was a two minute jog. I knew where to go because I’d seen them setting up for it earlier in the day. There was a quaint-looking café that had access to the grassy river bank below, access that could be denied if you weren’t expected.
The entrance was being guarded by a djin. At least that was my first thought when I saw the enormous black guy with his shiny bald head and single gold earring. As I approached he gave me a big smile, said, “Good evening, Mr. Draiocht,” and opened the picket gate for me to pass through. “Glad you could make it. Just go down the steps. Everybody’s down by the river.”
I could hear that. A crowd of all men using conversational tones produces a distinct low rumble.
“Thank you,” I said, knowing it was an appropriate response but thinking it sounded lame anyway.
Following the sound of voices, I rushed through the café courtyard and down the steps. Several tents were set up in case of rain, but it was a nice night. In fact, it was a perfect night. Seventy degrees that would become sixty-eight when the sun went down. No wind. No insects. Just enough humidity