I got the impression that it might not have taken a spell to get him to sit naked in the park and ribbit at people. His mama must have dropped him on his head one too many times when he was a baby. "We're even now. You bought me a drink, so all's square. Now, have a nice life, and stay away from strange lily pads. What happened to you, anyway? Did you lose a bet?"
He looked sheepish. "Something like that. But now I feel like the winner, for it brought you to me." He twitched his wrist, and a red rose appeared in his hand. He then presented the rose to me with much ceremony. Great. Now I had a crazy stalker who had magical powers. "Please take this as a token of my devotion."
"Wow. Thanks. But really, this is too much. We're completely even now, okay? You don't have to do anything else. Now, I have to go. 'Bye." I dashed out of the bar before he could do anything else. After this weekend, going to work Monday morning was going to feel practically humdrum, even at Magic, Inc.
Owen was already on the platform, leaning against a pillar, when I got to the subway station Monday morning. He looked much better than he had the last time I'd seen him. The dark shadows were gone from beneath his blue eyes, and his skin had a healthy color to it. Baseball must have agreed with him.
"How was the game?" I asked. "I hear the Yankees won."
He studied the toes of his shoes and turned pink. "What makes you think I had anything to do with that?"
"Sounds like someone has a guilty conscience. I didn't say anything about how the Yankees seem to have won. But you know, it does explain a lot."
"I take it you don't approve."
I shrugged. "I'm a Texas Rangers fan, and they used to be the Senators—you know, from Damn Yankees —so you get the picture."
"Sorry about that. And it wasn't like we did anything major. We just improved the umpire's eyesight a little bit."
"Yeah, sure." He grinned at my teasing tone, and as the train pulled into the station I realized it was the first time we'd talked about something other than work. He was still breathing, he wasn't any pinker than normal, and he hadn't passed out during a whole conversation that had nothing to do with business. He was even looking me in the eye. That pretty much proved that his interest in me didn't extend beyond friendship. Pity.
As we clung to a pole together on the train, I asked, "Are you a big baseball fan?"
"I don't know if I'd call myself a big fan, but I like it. It's so—" He groped for words. "—normal, and that's not something I feel often."
His eyes looked troubled, and I wondered if magical ability might be as much curse as it was blessing. Hoping to make him smile again, I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "I guess that's when you're not casting spells on the umpires." It worked.
He grinned and turned a rather becoming shade of pink.
That evening, I hovered around my office a little past quitting time, hoping to causally step out into the hallway just as Owen walked by so we could go home together. Maybe I'd learn another personal detail about him. Unfortunately, he didn't show. He must have been back to work on finding a counterspell. Reluctantly, I headed home alone.
When I came aboveground at the Union Square station, I was glad he wasn't with me. At first I didn't pay much attention to the guy standing by the station entrance, playing a guitar and singing. Then I heard my name. He was singing Barry Manilow's
"Mandy," but just saying, "Oh, Katie" over and over again in tune with the music, or rather, out of tune with the music. Afraid of what I'd see, I turned to find Jeff, the Naked Frog Guy, beaming at me. Still strumming and singing, he lowered himself until he was down on one knee. Please, don't let him propose, I prayed.
He had a look of utter devotion on his face that reminded me of Cletus, the not so bright but incredibly friendly black Lab we'd had when I was a kid. Unfortunately, Cletus wasn't too discriminating. He'd give that same look of devotion to family members or burglars, whoever was willing to rub his tummy. I suspected this guy was much the same way. It had to be a result of the spell. I tried to remember how the frog prince spell went in fairy tales. Did my breaking the spell mean he was doomed to be
in love with me forever? This would be a whole lot more fun if he just had to grant three wishes for me.
I figured I had a couple of options. I could ignore him and keep walking, running the risk that he'd follow me. Or I could stop and tell him to give it a break, which might or might not do any good if he was under a spell. I decided that having a short conversation here was better than having my own personal troubadour following me through the streets of New York.