WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1) Page 7

  I held out my hand to shake his. “Thanks, man. Enjoyed the chat.”

  Simon shook my hand. Ivan and I stood up just as people were filing in to be seated for dinner. “Later.”

  As I rounded the end of the table to find a seat, he called after me. “I hope you win!”

  I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Since we’re already right in front of the head table, let’s snag two chairs.”

  I nodded. “Back of the class never wins.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. Lucky you knew that music stuff.”

  “Why? It didn’t get us any new info.”

  “Disagree. I, for one, will feel okay about whatever I wear tomorrow night knowing clothes have nothing to do with winning.” He pulled out a chair. “How’d you know all that stuff anyway?”

  “My dad is an aficionado. He converted the garage into a room that might as well be a guitar museum. He plays, but never got the chance to try to do it professionally. Family came along when he was young. Luckily for us he was more serious about responsibility than heart’s desire.”

  As soon as I’d said that out loud the phrase heart’s desire resonated through my mind like a bone-deep vibration. I’d never thought much about heart’s desire before, but now that it was part of my consciousness, seemed like I couldn’t think of anything else. My dad would have loved to play music for work. Maybe he would have liked to be Simon. I don’t know.

  We were sitting in the two premier seats front and center, like eager geeks in calculus, waiting to see what would happen next. We watched the winners file in, greet each other, and take their seats. Good old Kellan stood at the centermost chair and gave the appearance of someone in charge.

  When everyone was seated, he tapped his glass with a spoon. The noise didn’t die down gradually. Silence was abrupt.

  “Dinner is about to be served, gentlemen. Don’t expect tailor-made menus like what you enjoyed at Orientation. This is local fare, but I expect you’ll like it. Don’t be shy. Eat as much as you want. The witches have made this a calorie-free zone for tonight. No amount of fat, salt, or sugar will have any effect on your girlish figures.”

  Immediately I heard murmurs behind me, guys turning to each other and asking, “Do you think he’s serious? Is it really a calorie-free zone? Can they do that?”

  I turned back toward the dais. Kellan looked down at me sitting right in front of him and winked, which of course left me agonizing over whether that was a good wink or a bad wink and trying to dissect whether or not there was any such thing as a ‘bad wink’. Then I started thinking the wink might have been indicating that the calorie-free thing was a joke. God. I wished he hadn’t winked.

  Kellan continued. “While the food is being passed around, I’m going to kick things off by officially welcoming you to Win a Witch Weekend. I hope you’ve had a chance to look around Wimberley. It’s not New York and we like it that way.” The guys on the dais all clapped and nodded in agreement so, naturally, the contestants followed suit.

  I had to admit the guys on the platform all seemed relaxed and pleased to be winners. I guessed from the Win a Witch Weekend reference that meant that each of them had won his own witch. And since none of them seemed to be blind, that meant it had turned out okay. I guess it would have turned out okay if they were blind, but you know what I mean.

  “Wimberley is a special place for special people,” Kellan went on. “That’s why artists are pulled here like there’s a creative vortex at work. We even have a few winners who are into the arts.” He looked down the table. “Like Simon over there, whom you saw in the Orientation video.”

  Simon didn’t smile or wave or stand up and take a bow, but he did push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “Winners are as diverse as the people you’d find on any street corner.”

  I looked around and thought, Yeah. On the street corner where the convention for models and rugby players just broke for lunch.

  “As you know, the ball is tomorrow night. By the time the clock strikes twelve, you’ll know if you’re one of the very lucky few to be welcomed into this brotherhood.” I heard the murmur of voices behind me, but they were silenced as soon as Kellan began speaking again. “Regardless of the outcome, we want you to have a good time while you’re here. So after dinner you’re invited to sign up for one of the activities we’re sponsoring tomorrow during the day.”

  The room filled with wait staff and heavenly aromas as platters of Texas barbeque and sides filled the room. Each person carried something different, stopped in front of us with a serving spoon, ladle, or meat fork depending on what they presented, and allowed us to serve ourselves. In order of appearance, if I remember correctly, was beef brisket, turkey breast, fresh pork, barbeque sauce, potato salad, green salad, macaroni in white cheese, pinto beans, corn on the cob, jalapeno cornbread and/or warm butter rolls.

  Since there was no longer any danger of my abs ever being scrutinized by a camera close-up, I took some of everything. That was a feat even considering that they gave us platters instead of plates. I looked behind me. There were a whole lot of happy, happy guys. Maybe that whole thing about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach has merit.

  Right behind the food came people with iced hourglass carafes of sweet tea. Each one of us got our own. Call me selfish, but I was pleased about that. I grabbed the neck of the carafe and poured into the empty glass by my platter. There was no way most of the guys in that room could appreciate the quality of that sweet tea. I knew immediately that it’d been made in the sun with real sugar because that’s exactly the way my mama does it.

  Yes. I know that one glass of tea exceeded recommended sugar doses for a month, but what can I say? I agree with recent science. It is an addictive drug. Every southerner knows that. But it’s still legal.

  Looking at the meal in front of me, I had my doubts that it wasn’t planned with me in mind. ‘Cause damn. Ambrosia couldn’t be better.

  With the wait staff in retreat and everybody chowing down, Kellan got to his feet again. “I was saying that we have a few activity options available during the day tomorrow. First is canoeing on the Blanco River. If you’re signed up, a van will pick you up tomorrow morning around nine. The spot where we’ll put in is about five and a half miles west. You don’t have to be experienced and everything you need will be provided. The entire trip including a stop for lunch and the ride back to your hotel is about six hours, which means you’ll have time for what they call a ‘toes up’ around here. I highly recommend taking advantage of the sunscreen offered if you want to be comfortable and look like yourself at the big event tomorrow night.

  “You’ll be floating downstream so not much paddling will be required, but if you’re not used to it, you may hear from your arm muscles when it’s over. It’s fun though and seeing things from the river is a whole different perspective.

  “Second, if we have tennis players, Stefan will organize a match. Transportation, lunch and anything else you need, including shoes and racquets, will be provided. If we have a small group, we’ll play at the high school here. If there are more, we’ll run down to New Braunfels and play at the John Newcombe Tennis Ranch.

  “Third, we have a tour going to San Antonio to see the Alamo and the Riverwalk. It’s about an hour’s drive each way. A bus has been reserved, but it’s more likely the trip will be by minivan.”

  The winners, most of them, laughed and exchanged looks so there was no doubt that was an inside joke.

  “Fourth, horseback riding in the hill country. Again, you do not need experience. You could put your grandmothers on these horses. They’re as safe as rocking chairs. However, a word of caution; if you’re not accustomed to riding, you will be sore where your ass meets the saddle.

  “Fifth, if you’re into geology, we can get you a VIP pass to the Canyon Lake Gorge. It’s a new geological find that opened up suddenly in 2002 when the lake overflowed. Has dinosaur prints and some pretty incredibl
e rock formations. Anyway the policy is researchers only, but we can get you past the guards if you want to go.

  “Last, if you’d rather just lounge around and socialize with other contestants, this area has been reserved for you through the day tomorrow. You can come here for food, drinks, free wifi, and just hang out. It’s not necessary to sign up for lounging.

  “Be sure to save room for dessert because they’re serving fried fruit pies. Yes. You can eat them with your hands.” Kellan picked up a piece of paper and read. “Also Texas chocolate pecan pie, rum pound cake, and blueberry cobbler.”

  Save room? Did he see the size of the platters they brought us?

  I had just shoved a spoonful of Southern potato salad into my mouth and was wondering if I could get dessert to go when Ivan said, “So what are you going to do tomorrow?”

  Truthfully, I’d been so caught up in the food, I hadn’t given it much thought.

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Either just hang out here or do the canoe thing.”

  Ivan looked aghast. “Well you can’t just hang out here!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’d be missing out on an experience! That’s why not. You only get so many chances in life to do real things. When you’re old, what are you going to say? I hung out in a tent with free wifi?”

  “By real things you mean things that aren’t electronic?”

  He pursed his lips and frowned. “I guess that is what I mean.”

  “Ivan. You get those chances every day. You may not be offered a canoe trip on a river, but you can look up from your phone or walk out on the street whenever you have the desire, or willpower, as the case may be.”

  “That’s not the same thing.” He almost pouted. Oddly, it was appalling and appealing at the same time.

  I smiled after taking a big bite of cornbread. “Okay.”

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “I’m not arguing.”

  “You have that look.”

  “Ivan, you don’t know me well enough to know my ‘looks’.” I turned in my chair and looked at him straight on. “Are you gay? Because the competition…”

  “No! I’m just saying that hanging back in a tent is a chickenshit approach to life. “

  Finally. He managed to say something that made sense.

  “Yeah. You know what? You’re right. I guess I’m going canoeing for the first time tomorrow.”

  “Really?” He brightened. “’Cause that’s what I’m doing.”

  I chuckled under my breath. “Well, it’s a small world.”

  The ringing of a spoon against a glass brought my attention back to the dais. “I hope you all enjoyed dinner. If we don’t see you again until tomorrow night, good luck. Maybe next year you’ll be occupying one of these chairs. Signups for activities at the tables they’ve just set up outside.”

  When that seemed to be the end, everybody clapped. A few people bolted up from their seats like they were afraid their activity would be full if they didn’t stampede the exit.

  Ivan stood up. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Hell, no,” I said. “I’m waiting for dessert.”

  “Dessert! You couldn’t possibly eat anything else without delivering the grand puke of all time.”

  “I’m getting it to go.”

  “Okay. I’ll sign you up for canoe.”

  “Thanks, Ivan. That’d be great.”

  Looking around the room I saw that about ten of us had lingered due to the tantalizing promise of fried pies, chocolate, pecans, and cobbler.

  When the waiter, who happened to be a trim fortyish woman, stopped in front of me with a tray of desserts, I said, “Wow. It looks as good as it sounded. Can I get it to go?”

  She smiled. “Of course, sir. What would you like?”

  “What kinds of fried pies do you have?”

  “Apple, peach, and cherry.”

  “I’ll have one peach pie, a slice of chocolate pecan, and just a dab of cobbler just to sample the experience.”

  Her smile told me that she was having fun with my order. I guessed that not many contestants asked for some of everything to go after eating for three. Or four.

  “Five minutes, sir.”

  “Take your time.”

  The past winners were lingering around the dais chatting as amiably as if they were fraternity brothers. There was probably nothing remarkable about that. Not only did they live in a small town, but they had witches in common. What was remarkable was that I felt a twinge of envy.

  I’ve never been a grouper. No. I don’t mean the fish. I mean the sort of person who joins groups, needs groups, and feels happiest when they’re in the middle of a group. In fact it was the first time I ever recall thinking that there might be something for me in the easy camaraderie I was witnessing.

  A body appeared in front of me, blocking my view, but offering a white paper sack with handles. When I looked inside, I was stunned to see that they’d included a cloth napkin and stainless flatware.

  “Will that do, sir?”

  I looked up and smiled. “This has to be the only to-go service in the world that doesn’t send you home with paper napkins and plastic sporks.”

  She nodded and walked away at a things-to-do pace.

  I ambled outside to see how the activity signup was progressing.

  “Willem.”

  I stopped when I heard a voice call my name from a few feet behind me. It was Kellan.

  “I hope you forgive me for pretending to be a contestant earlier. Just like you guys come to get information from us, we get to take a look at the new crop of hopefuls.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Nothing to forgive. Now if I’d said something that had disqualified me, that would be different.”

  He smiled in his congenial way. “It’s tough to read actors. You seem like an okay guy, but you could be acting.”

  I laughed at that. “Just to ease your mind, I never landed a single acting job. Not in ten years. If I was any good at it, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Oh?” His chin angled to the side. “How did you end up here?”

  “I was standing in line for the last audition I was ever going to try for. The guy next to me in line handed me a card, said try the witches, and the rest is history.”

  Holding out his hand, he said, “That’s a new one. I’m a collector of stories. Yours is unique.”

  I shook his hand. “Happy to oblige.”

  A look of curiosity crossed his face. “You from Texas?”

  I shook my head. “Alabama.”

  He grinned. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Canoe.”

  “Good choice. Popular choice. Raider’s in charge.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Watch out for him. He thinks turning other people’s canoes over is hysterical.”

  “Wow. Thanks for the tip.”

  Kellan gave me a manly slap on the shoulder and walked off.

  I didn’t see Roger or Ivan or any of the others I’d met at the bar or Orientation. There was still a line at one of the tables. I stopped one guy leaving.

  “Which activity is that for?”

  “The canoe thing. It’s the most popular.” He looked back at the line. “By far.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I had just finished off the pecan pie and lay back on the bed to watch TV and rub my stomach like a happy Buddha statue, when I heard a knock at the door. I took the precaution of looking through the peephole even though I felt as safe as if I was still in my mother’s womb.

  Looking up and down the hall, I could see that someone had left their delivery and disappeared. There was a bundle wrapped in brown paper and tied with corn shuck twine. There was also a card with my name on it.

  I closed the door, locked it, placed the package on the bed and unwrapped it like a Christmas present. I never would have guessed what it was in a hundred years. A black long-sleeve, wick-away moisture shirt in my size, dry-on-the-fly camouflage cargo short pants that came to th
e knee in my size, and black pull on water booties, also in my size.

  At that point I should not have been amazed that they knew so much about me or that they were prepared to produce precisely what I needed when I needed it.

  “Hmmm,” I said to the room, as if that covered it.

  So I went to sleep and dreamed of beautiful witches dressed like “I Dream of Jeannie”, moving in and out of a white tent where I lay on Persian rugs with tons of pillows, smoking something from a pipe. Each was carrying a platter of constantly changing delectable delicacies and encouraging me to try more. It was a perpetually moving line that seemed to have no end.

  I had set the alarm for eight just to be sure that I had time to shave and look halfway awake. Maybe get a coffee in the lobby downstairs.

  The clothes and booties fit perfectly and, if you ask me, didn’t look too bad on me either. I stuck my phone, wallet, and room key in one of the cargo pockets, zipped it up, and headed down. It was eight fifty and would have been excruciatingly early if I was on my old L.A. lifestyle schedule. But I wasn’t. I was a new man in hungry pursuit of Plan B and that was noteworthy for two reasons. First, I had no Plan C. And, second, I didn’t really know what Plan B was. I just knew it was focused on the concept of heart’s desire. And what could go wrong with that? Right?

  The Charmed Horse Hotel had a coffee bar open in the mornings with a barista who could challenge any espresso artiste anywhere in the world. Yes. That includes Italy. I haven’t been to Italy, but I feel certain enough to make that claim.

  I took my steaming cup of pseudo self-actualization out onto the porch to wait for the van. There were seventeen other guys already waiting, wearing clothes that were similar, but not identical.

  At least there’s that.

  In other words, the hotel’s entire weekend occupancy was going canoeing on the Blanco River with a mad Viking who wanted to turn us over in the water. Christ.

  They were standing around on the front porch decking trying to look cool while eyeing each other suspiciously. Ivan wasn’t there, but I didn’t expect to see him since he’s staying somewhere else.