“I’m not sure how, exactly, you’d like me to fix your marriage.” I shrugged. “I might suggest, as a starter course, that you stop cheating on your spouse. Then she likely won’t feel the urge to wander into shops like mine in search of… more drastic measures.”
“I’m not talking about fixing my marriage!” he snarled. “I’m talking about my…”
“Equipment?” I supplied again, no less sweetly.
His teeth clenched. He did not respond — he didn’t seem able to speak at that moment, so thick was his fury — except for a shallow nod of assent.
“I’m afraid I can’t fix you, sir.” I tilted my head as I eyed him. “Judging by your anger issues, not to mention your apparent infidelity problems, I’m guessing only a licensed psychiatric professional can do that.”
“You’re going to fix me. So help me, you will. If you don’t…” He leaned over the counter, vengeance in his eyes. “You will regret it.”
“Sir, I’d like you to leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere, bitch.”
We were back tobitchagain.
“Well, unless you’re here to buy something, you can’t stay.” I paused a beat. “You wouldn’t perchance be interested in a piece of citrine? It’s supposed to boost confidence and positivity which, honestly, it seems like you could use right about now.”
I wasn’t about to squander a potential sale. And, to be candid, I really needed to unload the citrine. Two full boxes had been collecting dust in the storeroom for months. I’d have to find a creative use for them — perhaps passed into the hands of future shoppers with a BOGO promotion. (Buy-One-Get-One-Urine-Yellow-Rock-Free!All sales final.)
Shockingly, the man did not seem tempted by my offer. His expression darkened and his voice grew almost desperate. “You’ve cursed me! This spell of yours has ruined my life. And if you don’t undo it, I’m going to ruin yours.”
I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “Spell? Are you serious? I don’t cast spells.”
“Then what do you call that?”
He jerked his chin toward the bottle. He seemed unwilling to touch it again, as if doing so would somehow unleash even more dastardly consequences upon his manhood. Which was hilarious, seeing as the bottle held nothing but water with a few drops of marjoram essential oil, a sprig of rosemary, and a teeny, tiny shake of itching powder. A concoction that smelled divine — and, okay, I admit, may cause minor crotch-itch in one’s cheating spouse — but by no means would keep a man’s flag at half-mast.
“Um…” I shrugged lightly and contemplated his question. “A holistic approach to incentivize monogamy?”
“Don’t be cute with me.”
“You think I’m cute?Aw! That’s good to hear. I’ve been really struggling with my bangs, you see, they’re still growing out—”
“Shut the fuck up! God! You fucking women. Goddamn fuckingwomen. You all think think you can just waltz through life without any consequences. That you can toy with a man’s…” He shook his head vigorously. “I’m telling you right now, there will be repercussions for this. I’ll make you regret you ever opened up shop. I’ll make you regret you everbreathed, bitch!”
Despite my outward composure, I did in fact have a threshold for being insulted and threatened — and I was approaching it.
Rapidly.
“Sir, while I do sympathize with your… lack of lift-off… like I said before, there’s nothing I can do for you. Seeing as you aren’t a paying customer and I’ve asked you to leave, you are now technically trespassing here. If you don’t turn your tail around and walk out that door like the almighty goddess Gloria Gaynor advises… we’re going to have a problem.”
He absorbed this in silence for a few seconds, holding his breath. His face, already eggplant-purple, went plum. Then his beefy hand lifted and his finger was right in my face, an inch from my nose, waggling with menace. “I want to speak to your manager!”
“I’m the owner. You’ve already reached the top of the totem pole, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’ll call the police!”
“And tell them what?” I tried, I really did, but in the end I could not quite contain my bemused smile. “That you cheated on your wife so she went to an occult shop and bought a magical potion to wet your wick?” I waved my hands in the air in what I hoped was a witchy way. “A purchase she made, might I add, of her own free will, from an upstanding, tax-paying business owner — that would beme— who you then threatened, unprovoked, in full view of a dozen witnesses, at her place of business?” My lips pursed. “Oh, yes. I’m sure our local PD will be just tripping over themselves to help you, sir.”
He blew out a ragged breath. While I spoke, his eyes had glossed over with what looked like real, actual tears. If he were even slightly less of an asshole, I might’ve felt sorry for him. As things stood, though, I was beginning to think his wife should’ve gone straight for theCHEATER’S KARMAbottle instead of the more mildJILTED JUICEshe’d opted to begin with.
“Please leave, sir,” I requested yet again, my voice as thin as my patience. “Now.”
He was silent for another long stretch, then burst out, “You don’t understand! Before this, I never had a problem! Never! I was a dynamo! Women begged for it! I had stamina you wouldn’t believe! I could go for hours, every time! All night long! I rocked worlds! I brought down the house! But… over the past few weeks…. out of nowhere…” He pressed his eyes tightly closed for a long beat, as if not wanting to even think about what he’d endured. “I thought something was seriously wrong with me. Then, I found this jar in her bedside table. And I knew.I knew!It wasn’t me, it wasthis!It wasyou!”
My eyes flickered down to his paunch, then slowly traversed back up to his face. Holding his gaze, I allowed my nose to scrunch in disbelief.