Repossessed (3 page)

What kind of boss allowed working conditions like this? With a frown, Tessa strolled across the worn carpet to the water dispenser. The water was the cleanest thing in the room. After grabbing a fingerful of dust, she confirmed the paper cups had likely been used by the first settlers to New York. Using a tissue from her purse, she cleaned it.

She poured in a few drops and nearly dropped her cup as a tall glass of witch’s brew walked through the door behind the counter. After placing his overflowing box of items onto a free spot on the floor, their eyes met and a moment of recognition hit.

She’d seen this guy before.

His backside, anyway.

Tessa faked a sip from her cup, but her eyes rebelled and traveled where a lady shouldn’t be openly gaping—at all.

He shifted from one leg to another. “Can I help you?”

Did he catch her staring this time? She fingered her bracelet and spouted a mantra in her head,
“Desperation isn’t attractive unless it has on a shorter skirt.”

Tessa’s inner business maven jumped in. “Hi, my name’s Tessa Dandridge.” She reached to shake his hand. He didn’t take it. “That kind gentleman behind the counter told me I should talk to you in regards to the Honda Civic your company repossessed recently.”

His stony face never twitched as she pulled back her hand. He finally spoke after a brief moment. “I’ll get the paperwork. The Municipal Supernatural Building is located—”

“Look, you seem like a nice guy.” Tessa pasted her most brilliant smile on her face in the hopes of winning him with kindness. “I know how the Municipal Supernatural System works. I don’t have the time to wait in line before I get the car back. How about I write you a check for the debt right now and you can pass it along to the company so I can retrieve my car.”

A devilish smirk broke out on his face as he ran his fingers through his black hair. A few messy strands rested over his ears and forehead. As his tattooed arm came back down, the biceps clenched. Tessa blinked a few times to distract herself. A part of her imagined him as tasty steak sizzling on the grill. And she wanted to take a bite.

“Even
if
I wanted to fetch your car, I can’t. It’s in Limbo.”

“Well, if you put it there, I’m sure you can just…” She gestured with a swirl of her hand. “…pull that puppy right out.”

“Limbo doesn’t work that way. I have the power to add items, but in random places. Now as to a quick retrieval, you’re at the mercy of the dwarves at the Supernatural Municipal Building. They ultimately control access to Limbo.” He crossed his arms, daring her to reply.

“I see, well, if you could hand me—” She barely uttered a word before the older man behind the counter directed a pile of papers in her direction.

Thoroughly dismissed by two repo men. Now that was a first.

As Tessa watched his retreating back, she tried to buck up and go over a mental list of the positive points in her life—other than the missing scroll. She had friends. She had a place to live. And her business burned through money like crazy. Positive thinking wasn’t her strong point this evening.

Those warlocks who’d brushed her off didn’t help her mood either. Maybe she should’ve emphasized how dire the situation was. Either way, hadn’t the guy behind the counter checked her out earlier? Wouldn’t he want to be a gentleman and offer a lady a hand?

Entering the cab, she brooded. Her grandmother wouldn’t have had these kinds of problems. Yet, with confidence, her Grandma Kilburn had pushed her into the world of matchmaking three years ago.

She could hear her now. The memories from her graduation dinner never faded. “Straighten up in your seat, Tessa,” her grandmother had said. “Surviving in the real world isn’t an exact science, you know.”

On the day after her college graduation, Tessa enjoyed dinner with her family, all the while ignoring the stench of burnt lamb her mother prepared. To hopefully impress Grandma. No matter how much her mom tried, even the best-casted spells on the pots and fine china couldn’t cover the sad truth that her mom couldn’t cook.

Her mom refused a caterer, hell-bent on staying in the good graces of Grandma Kilburn by cooking the meal herself.

A huge grin spread across Aunt Lenore’s face as she pushed her plate of pumpkin cookies toward Grandma’s matriarchal seat at the head of the table. Tessa’s other four aunts and mother lined the sides of the fifteen-person dining room table set with Tiffany china. They cowered like advisers from an ancient Chinese emperor’s court awaiting the next royal decree.

“Daisy, why do you wear that awful sweater all the time? You’ll never find a good man wearing something so matronly,” Grandma scolded. Her transparent graying form stirred. Not good to rub a rich ghost the wrong way.

As usual, Aunt Daisy would smile as if Grandma had told a great joke and reply, “Oh, Mom. I haven’t met the right guy yet.” She straightened the neckline of the over-sized forest green sweater as she used the fork in her right hand to stab her salad.

Aunt Daisy worked with a tax firm that rubbed elbows with Chicago’s supernatural elite, but based on the fashion choices Daisy made from day-to-day, Tessa would have to agree that her aunt plunged headfirst into spinsterhood.

Tessa might’ve inherited money from Grandma’s undead will, but she sure as hell hadn’t inherited her barbed tongue.

“Gertrude.” Grandma turned to Tessa’s mom. “Why ever don’t you have a graduation cake for Tessa? I’m too dead to eat, but I don’t see why everyone else has to suffer from your cooking.”

“Well, I—”

“You act as if you never planned an event before.” Grandma Kilburn addressed Tessa’s father. She kept everyone on their toes. “Jacob, have the cook run out to the store and fetch my granddaughter a cake.”

Her dad nodded with a smile, but Tessa tried to be the peacemaker. “Grandma, I don’t need a cake. There’s plenty of food and Aunt Lenore made your favorite cookies.”

“All right, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Aunt Daisy smiled. “Tessa, are you sure you won’t reconsider the business analyst position?”

During her junior year, Tessa spent a brief summer internship at her aunt Daisy’s office. After graduation, her aunt expected her to work for them. She dreaded the thought of countless days of boring rows of numbers and ledgers.

Grandma’s transparent form darkened as the ghost addressed Aunt Daisy. A chill spread across the room. A common occurrence when Grandma got mad. “I told you she’s not joining the firm. My granddaughter’s going to New York City to start a business as a matchmaker.”

With her grandmother’s blessing and financial backing, Tessa set her plan in motion. At the time, she’d been so energized with the possibilities. She could help people and make a living at the same time. That type of prospect offered more scenarios for fulfillment than project specifications and business plans to create cost effectiveness. But even with her new business, she wanted—no, needed—companionship.

After a day like today, though, Tessa wondered if she’d ever find it for herself.

CHAPTER FOUR

Dating Tip #17: Never change into a werewolf on the first date. Some dates need time to adapt to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Furry.

Two days later, Tessa sprang the news to the entire agency.

“Ok, ladies, the Smythe Scroll is missing. That means we have no way to contact Cramer. I have a few weeks until Cramer told me he’d return. Are there any other clients that we can only contact through the scroll?”

Her morning meeting with the staff started with the most important business. Naturally, Danielle smiled in what could be considered an oh-shit moment. “I already looked up the information. Don’t worry. We need the scroll to contact seven clients.”

“And how many of them need arrangements within the next couple of weeks?”

She looked down at her notes, avoiding Tessa’s gaze. “Oh, all of them.”

“I see… How about we go through all past correspondence and any phone logs to see if we can recover any contact information? That sounds like something for you to try, Ursula.”

The intern nodded and made a note.

“Now, we need to proceed as if nothing is wrong with the agency at this point. We’ll have to suck it up and use our computerized system for all clients from now on. If the client says we need to use magic to contact him, he needs to provide an emergency number in case our spell ‘fails’ to contact him.”

They nodded in agreement.

“I think we may be able to establish some contacts through networking,” Danielle suggested.

Over the past two days, Tessa had gone from angry to frustrated to determined. A lost Smythe Scroll wouldn’t be the end of her business. There had to be some way to retrieve the scroll before Cramer, or any of the other six clients, wondered why her agency hadn’t contacted them.

A pain bit into her stomach, but she held herself in check. Even though she couldn’t shake away a single thought: All of her hard work to establish her business might’ve been for nothing. Maybe she should’ve set up shop in small-town Illinois. She snorted. Not as many bachelors, but at least the rental space costs would be manageable.

Once the meeting ended, Tessa escaped to her office for some privacy. Her assistant followed, always a hovering and protective friend.

Danielle closed the glass door behind her.

From her desk Tessa glanced at Danielle and tried to smile. Things would only get worse around here. All she was doing was shuffling money from one place to another. Hiding out until she cornered and caught the big fish that could save her business. Maybe she needed to try harder to reel in that sucker.

She traced her fingers along a piece of paper as a spark of an idea came to her. Didn’t Rob dump repossessed stuff in Limbo? Couldn’t she follow him around until he opened the doorway to where she needed to go? He had to be the big fish she needed to get out of trouble! She couldn’t contain the crazy giggle from her lips. She’d be insane to do it, but her options were limited.

“Tessa, do you need a moment—” Danielle began.

“—I’m fine, Dani,” she said. “No need to call the men with straight jackets yet.”

Danielle lowered her eyebrows with suspicion, then patted Tessa’s shoulder and left the room. Tessa quirked a grin. Now she had a definite plan to find her scroll. She checked her computer and blocked out a half hour in the afternoon for an important phone call. It was time to talk to a potential client.

Clive of Clive’s Magical Repossessions.

Later that evening, at a quarter-past eleven, Tessa stood outside the Nigerian restaurant in Brooklyn. She was in a prime position to catch free smells as the strong aroma of spicy scents tickled her nose each time the door opened.

When she first arrived outside of Clive’s Magical Recovery, she questioned her logic. A woman for Clive in exchange for letting her tag along on repo jobs. Great. But how the hell could a witch with French tips pull off this ruse?

Four hours ago, she’d laid out two outfits on her bedspread and thought to herself,
which one best looks like a repo chick on the hunt
? Courtesy of an hour and a half of “Repo Man: Stealing for a Living” episodes on her DVR, she’d oriented herself to the grittiness of the repo business. In every situation the repo men, and women, encountered irate people oblivious to the fact they neglected to make their payments. The reactions ran the gamut from the crying soccer dad to the knife-wielding pimp.

So she selected some jeans and a pair of sneakers. Then she checked herself in the mirror. There was no way she looked tough. She screamed socialite with her jewelry, makeup and hair. For good measure, she’d ditched the jewelry.

Rob left his office, and she walked up to him.

At first he was silent and stared her down with his frigid facial expression, perhaps hoping she’d turn and bolt in the opposite direction. Tessa straightened her back and took a step forward. Her head reached his chin, and she had to tilt hers upward to check out his expression. His mouth formed a hard line, and she could faintly hear him grinding his teeth. This wasn’t good.

“Good evening, Rob,” she managed.

“C’mon, before I change my mind.” He pivoted in the opposite direction. Tessa followed and tried to keep her eyes from straying to view how finely his blue jeans fit over his ass. He had a weathered brown satchel over his shoulder that rested on his trim right hip. A black t-shirt completed his repo man ensemble.

Thanks to her call earlier with Clive, Tessa now had a new client and an opportunity to follow Rob a few times a week. Clive forewarned her of the dangers involved, but she swatted his concerns away. She had a few offensive spells under her belt. She could handle a disgruntled dwarf or bitter valkyrie who hadn’t made payments on a loaned item.

Three blocks later toward 3
rd
Street, Rob stopped at Starbucks. Was this their first collection point? The twenty-four hour establishment was full of magical and non-magical patrons reading books, using laptops, or eating a late-night snack.

The willowy, dark-haired nymph behind the counter giggled at him when he reached the counter. “Who’s the tag-a-long, Rob? She looks scrawny.”

He pursed his lips. “Don’t start, Arielle. Give me a double black this time.”

The nymph offered him a sly smile as her thin fingers prepared the coffee. The other patrons couldn’t see her delicate hands as they flowed over the counter with magic trailing like strands of silk blowing in the wind. Dryads, like the one in front of Tessa, usually frolicked in Central or Prospect Park. To see one filling orders at a local Starbucks was a bit offsetting. Perhaps her tree had been relocated to the big city and she was making the best of it.

Rob reached into the pocket of his jeans. Tessa expected him to turn in her direction to ask what she wanted, but he paid for his drink and headed for the door. Her mouth dropped open.
What an ass.

“Hey, I would’ve liked something to drink,” she growled to his back. A short snort was her reply.

He reached for the handle and paused as he had a change of heart.
How kind of him.
“You got five minutes.”