WhiskeyBottleLover Page 4

  “Fifty years? But you don’t look much older than thirty.” She curled up in the corner of the couch, tucked her legs tight against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Side effect of the curse. Time goes on, things progress but I stay the same.”

  “So you’re how old exactly?”

  Hayes shrugged. He stopped counting after the first one hundred years. “One hundred and sixty, give or take. Don’t really know for sure and don’t care.”

  She sat quietly for a moment, turned her head and frowned. “You called it a curse. Does that mean you haven’t always been a, um—”

  “Genie,” he offered. Yeah, she still hadn’t bought the story. “No, I was a normal man goin’ about livin’ my life.” Those days were faded shadows now. Nothing more than wisps of memories he couldn’t call forward, no matter how hard he tried.

  Another stretch of silence and then she asked, “The old couple I bought the bottle from, were they your last,” she frowned, bit her bottom lip and then said it, “masters?”

  “Don’t really know for sure. All I remember is the last guy to release me wished for bizarre things and then I went back into the bottle until tonight. Thanks for that, by the way. You have no idea how lonesome and boring it gets in there.”

  A beeping sound startled him. Hayes jumped up, nearly knocking over the chair. The woman, she eased off the couch and came around it slowly.

  “It’s just the oven. My dinner is done.”

  He looked toward the oven and then made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Sorry ’bout that. I’m not familiar with modern devices.”

  “It’s okay.” She took it slow, approaching as if he were some wild animal she needed to move carefully around.

  Hayes decided to go easy on her and put distance between them. When she opened the oven door, the aroma hit him like a ton of bricks. It smelled incredible and made his mouth water. Real food. Home-cooked food that satisfied a man’s stomach. How long had it been since he tasted anything substantial?

  She grabbed a towel and then reached in and touched the glass pan. Instantly she yelped, jumped back and grabbed her hand. Hayes pointed at the pan and it floated from inside to the top. The door shut and then he moved toward her.

  “Let me look at that.” The woman backed away with fear in her eyes but he ignored her, reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. A small, delicate wrist with cool flesh against his warm palm and he couldn’t believe he was actually touching a woman. “That’s a nasty burn.” He laid the tip of his finger over the damaged flesh and in seconds it healed.

  “How’d you, what,” she looked up at him, surprised. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like seein’ people in pain.”

  She stood there, staring at her finger in silence and then sighed. “Do you eat? I mean, can you eat?”

  “Sure. I don’t really need it to live but I can still enjoy food.” Was she offering to share? Did anyone ever share their meal with him over the last two centuries?

  “It’s not much but I’ve got plenty. That is, if you’d like.”

  “I’d like. I’d like a lot. Thank you, ma’am.” He waved his hand toward the stove and the pan blinked to the table.

  “Hot pad,” she shouted. “Hot pad. Pick it up a second.”

  Hayes did and she slid a thick piece of material beneath it. He lowered the pan and smiled. “You should have used that to take it out. You wouldn’t have hurt yourself.”

  “My name is Chance,” she said, staring at the table as if trying to comprehend what just happened.

  “Chance?”

  “Yes, that’s my name. Stop calling me ma’am.” She jammed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Dishes are in the cupboard.”

  It took a moment but then it clicked. She wanted to test him, that or confirm in her head what he could do. No big deal. He waved his hand and two dishes appeared on the table along with utensils. “Anythin’ else you’d like, Master?” He meant it as a small joke but her eyes grew wide and she plopped down in a chair.

  He grew a bit concerned when her flesh turned pasty white. “Are you sick?”

  She swallowed hard. “This can’t be happening. It isn’t real. Genies aren’t real, much less Southern-talking genies wearing clothes from the eighteen hundreds. I must be losing my mind.”

  He didn’t like the sound of her tight, strangled voice. Sitting down slowly beside her, Hayes placed his hands on the table where she could see them. “I’m sorry, Chance, but it is real. Genies are real. It doesn’t matter where they’re from. Can’t say I blame your doubt though. I don’t remember much from my past anymore, but I do remember thinkin’ the same thing.” A huge mistake on his part, one he’d never make again.

  “They’re just legends,” she whispered.

  “Yep, and legends are grounded in some sort of truth.” The knowledge he learned as the shackles grew into his bone was hard to stomach. Dragons did exist at one time. Fairies were real and still lived among humans. The list went on. Evil did walk the earth along with true and righteous good. There had to be a balance and somehow he factored into that.

  “So, what, you were just living your life and bam, you wake up inside a bottle, destined to grant wishes to people? It doesn’t make sense to me.” Chance leaned back in her chair and stared at him, waiting.

  Hayes thought about telling her the truth, how he was tricked into the bottle, but what did it matter? In a short time he would be back inside and waiting for the next person. Depending on what she wished for, her life would go on without a hitch and he’d soon be forgotten. “It doesn’t have to make sense, darlin’. It just is. You better eat while your food is warm.”

  He sat there, uncomfortable under her scrutinizing stare, but kept his lips sealed. She wouldn’t be the one to free him. He knew that all the way down to his old bones. Chance had a good life and he would not screw it up any more than he already had.

  “What kind of name is Chance for a woman anyway?” he asked as she served the lasagna.

  “I was found by chance in an abandoned building. Left to die, I suppose, or maybe my mother had died and couldn’t return to me. I have no idea. Anyway, I became part of the system and the woman who handled my case named me. Apparently she was into unique names.”

  “Left to die?” He couldn’t fathom it. Not this beautiful, vibrant woman. “How old were you?”

  “Not even a year old.”

  “No family took you in?”

  “Yeah, for a while until I got a little older and then I started getting shuffled around from one family to another. Most of them were polite, fed me, clothed me, put a roof over my head, but something was missing.” She shrugged, picked up her fork and took a bite of her food. “When I turned eighteen I walked away from the system.”

  Hayes mulled that over a bit. She had no family, no one to miss her if she suddenly vanished. A prime candidate to take his place. No, he couldn’t do it. Life had already been hard for her.

  “I’m truly sorry about your past, Chance. Have you found what was missin’ yet?”

  “No.” She continued to eat without adding any further commentary.

  Silence stretched between them and Hayes didn’t mind. He savored each bite of real food, good food, and committed it to memory in case he didn’t get the chance to eat again for a long while. If he learned anything from this poor excuse for a life, it was to appreciate every little thing that came along.

  “What about you? Did you have family?” she asked and then took a sip of wine.

  Hayes pulled on those memories hard but could bring little forward. “I did at one time. The eighteen hundreds were hard, dangerous. What I remember is bein’ alone for a good bit. Just me workin’ where I could, gettin’ by. The bottle fades a lot of memories. I suppose it’s a good thing.”

  “Why?”

  She honestly looked stunned at that. He shrugged. “If I had family, people who cared about me, peo
ple I loved, it would be torture to know they’ve already lived and died without me. It’s hard to miss what you didn’t have.”

  “That’s true,” she whispered.

  When she got up to clear the table he held out his hand to stop her. “Let me.” In a split second the dishes were clean and put away. Even the leftover food found its way into the refrigerator. “The least I can do for the hospitality. Thank you for sharin’, Chance. It’s a rare treat for me. Now I’ll return the favor.”

  Chance gasped when a big chocolate cake appeared in the center of the table. He didn’t know why he chose that but it appeared to be the right thing. After the sudden shock her eyes sparkled and she dipped her finger into the icing and tasted.

  “Oh wow, that’s good.”

  A knife appeared in his hand. He cut a slab, placed it in front of her and grinned like a damn fool as she dug in. Did people understand that the little things were this important in life? That a simple cake could bring a person joy? He doubted it. His experience with wishes showed the greedy side of people.

  “What will your first wish be?” He hated asking. It meant stepping closer to being locked up in the bottle again. Still, she had a life to live and he needed to move forward in his search to find the right person to wish him free.

  “I don’t know. I never wished for anything.”

  Hayes laughed. “Sure you have. Everyone wishes for somethin’. New clothes, a bigger house, more money, love.”

  “Nope. I learned very young if you wanted something, you did what you had to do to get it. I can’t recall a time when I actually sat down and wished for something.”

  “Not even a family to call your own?”

  Without missing a beat, she responded, “Nope. I do a good job taking care of myself. I don’t need anyone. As for a house, I like this one. It’s simple, cozy and suits me. Clothes have never been my thing and money is only a state of mind as far as I’m concerned. As for love, never experienced it so like you said, you can’t miss what you never had.”

  Well, hell. He never ran into anyone this content with their life. “You have to make three wishes, Chance.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She leaned back in her chair and put her slim hand over her flat tummy. “I’m stuffed. Thank you for the cake. I haven’t indulged like that in a long time.”

  “You’re welcome.” This had to be the first time anyone showed appreciation for something he’d done.

  Chance rose from the table, took her glass of wine, wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. Hayes took care of the dishes and covered the cake so they could enjoy it later. Unsure what to do next, he strolled into the other room.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “What happens if I don’t make a wish?” she asked, motioning for him to sit. “I mean, what if let you out and simply walk away? What happens to you?”

  The knowledge rushed from his invisible shackles, filling his brain with the consequences. He would fade into oblivion and she would be forced to take his place. His miserable existence would end but hers would simply begin. “Nothin’ pleasant for either of us,” he muttered.

  “Tell me, I want to know.”

  Curious as to how she would react, he answered, “I would fade into oblivion, poof, gone.”

  Chance frowned. “That sucks.”

  “For me, yeah. I may not enjoy this life but the hope of bein’ free keeps me goin’.”

  “You can be freed?”

  Did he detect a hint of excitement in her voice? “Yep.”

  “How?”

  Hayes shook his head. “Don’t matter, Chance. It’ll never happen so I don’t think about it.” Lying left a sour taste in his mouth, especially with her, but he’d gone the route of high hopes and the crash, well, he didn’t like how it felt. “Ya know, if you have things to do I won’t take offense if you do them. Pretend like I’m not here, that is until you’ve decided on your wishes.”

  She sat her wineglass down and ran her hands through her hair. He liked the way it fell in a silky cascade, the way the light shimmered off the auburn highlights, a truly beautiful woman with many assets. In his time she’d be married to the wealthiest man, living a good life and wanting for nothing. Yet here she lived alone and quite content with her life.

  “You keep staring at me and it’s making me fidgety,” she muttered.

  “My apologies. I can’t help but marvel at the way women have changed over the years.” He especially liked the way the clothing had evolved. Women in this time wore tight-fitting shirts and trousers that accentuated their bodies. Chance had a very pleasing body. How long had it been since he held a soft woman against his hard, haggard one? Too damn many years. Best not dwell on that, it would only frustrate him further.

  Needing to remove himself from her presence for a bit, Hayes stood, stretched his legs and shoved his hands down into the pockets of his jeans. “Think I’ll do a little explorin’ for a while. Give you some time to digest all this and maybe think on a wish. If you want me to return all you have to do is rub my bottle, it’ll bring me back.”

  Chance watched him closely as he spoke and then nodded. “You won’t get into any trouble, will you? I mean, I’m not going to have to come bail you out of jail or anything?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. Even if he did find himself in trouble, he couldn’t be held in any mortal prison. Nah, his penitentiary sat on the counter smelling of old whiskey. “Don’t worry your mind about that. I avoid trouble at all cost. Remember if you want me to return, rub the bottle.” With that, he transported himself outside into the darkness.

  Hayes took a deep breath of the crisp night air and let it fill his body. Chance didn’t appear to be rushing into making a wish, so he had time to check out how much the world changed over the last fifty years. Who knew, if greed ran as rampant in this time as he suspected, maybe he could find someone to wish him free. All it would take was a well-suggested white lie.

  Chapter Four

  Alone now, Chance took a much needed, deep breath and relaxed back into the couch. She still couldn’t comprehend all this. Genies didn’t exist. They were myths, legends, stuff of fairy tales. Yet she’d seen him emerge from the bottle, watched as the mist formed him into a living man. He talked, seemed intelligent and he ate her food, for crying out loud.

  “Ugh.” Why her? Why did she have to pick up that damn bottle? She liked her ordinary life with no complications. This situation couldn’t get any more complex.

  Maybe that mist actually was a toxic concoction and none of what happened over the last hour really happened. It would make sense. She never dabbled in drugs but she’d heard stories and this sure as hell sounded like a trip. Bad, bad trip. Chance rose from the couch and wandered into the kitchen.

  Well, the cake he made appear still sat there with two pieces cut out. She didn’t make it. She went to the cupboard and all the dishes were there. She didn’t wash any of them and she could still smell the foul, sour alcohol lingering in the air. Genies didn’t exist.

  Maybe if she said it enough all this would go away. In the morning it would seem like a bizarre dream and she could laugh about it. Wouldn’t Jenny get a kick out of her vivid imagination?

  Still, deep inside she knew no matter how much she lied to herself, it wouldn’t change the facts. The man appeared in her house. The bottle leapt from her hand, hung in the air and uncorked itself. All that happened before the green mist rolled out. So that much she couldn’t push off on being drugged. Chance rubbed her temples, trying to release the tension building there.

  Okay, so the man claimed to be a genie. What did she know about them? Absolutely nothing. Easy enough to remedy. She went to her bedroom, grabbed her laptop and sat down at the table. A little research seemed to be in order.

  Two hours later she sat hunkered over, her face mere inches from the screen and her head reeling from the information she’d amassed from the internet. Some of it seemed to be pure fiction but other pieces matched perfectly
to what he’d told her. Imagine that, genies did exist, or at least the people who wrote these articles believed they did.

  She eventually came across an article that warned any master of a genie about making wishes. Items that were wished for had to come from somewhere. For example, if you wished for money, it had to be taken from a bank or another person to be given to you. In a roundabout way, stealing. Well, that didn’t sound right, not to her anyway. Others may not have a problem with that.

  Another section warned against wishing for fame. Fame didn’t exactly mean untold riches and happiness. In reality, it meant your every move would be monitored by the public, reported on for entertainment. Who the hell wanted that?

  In horror, she skimmed a section that told of masters wanting power over others. They got the power but in the end they also received everything that came with it. Hate, vengeance and ultimately death at the hands of those who were controlled. The more she read, the more she realized this genie and wishing business could be dangerous.

  Okay, she got the message loud and clear. Karma played a large part in this risky game. You got what you wanted, but tenfold. “Careful what you wish for, you might get it,” she muttered. What about the story he gave her about being wished free? Was there any truth to that?

  Her fingers flew across the keyboard but she found very little on that matter. So Hayes had reason to believe it wouldn’t happen for him. How sad. Chance yawned, laid her head down and stared at the depiction of a genie on her screen. He didn’t look anything like the man who claimed to be her genie. No similarities at all. This guy looked exotic, regal, too damn pretty for her taste. Arrogance rolled from his drawn features.

  Hayes had an antique Southern charm along with rugged masculinity. A gentleman if there were actually such a thing. She could almost see him living in the eighteen hundreds. Her eyelids lowered, slow to open again. Yeah, she bet the women of those small towns did their share of looking when he rode by. Who wouldn’t? She yawned again, blinked and this time her eyes didn’t open.