The Deal

The Evil Eye

Harry

"Did you see what that Roux girl was wearing today?"

"Yeah, it looked like something out of my grandma's closet!"

"It probably came from her grandma's closet! They're both so weird!"

"I hear that her grandma talks to dead people. And Mrs. Jenkins caught Nova yelling at her mother the other day."

"Didn't her mum like, die?"

"Exactly!"

I have to walk away from the group of teenage girls and their high-pitched voices. They come to the gym almost every day, go on the elliptical for maybe twenty minutes and then spend the rest of the time talking shit about someone or something.

But, this is the first time I've heard them bring up Nova.

I can't say I'm surprised, nor can I say this is the first time I've heard people talk about Nova or her grandma.

I mean with their Halloween shop and their crystals and tarots and magic eight-balls and shit they're kind of asking for it in a town like this.

People in this town just love to speculate and talk about how the two can see dead people and cast curses and predict things before they actually happen.

Half the town believes they are witches and the other half think they're certifiable.

Me? I literally couldn't care less.

I just ignore the whispers I hear every now and then, never interjecting to stand up for Nova and never interjecting to agree with their rude remarks either.

But, that doesn't mean I like to hear about it.

Nova may be a little weird and her Nan a little frightening, but I personally don't care. They could be actual witches and I still wouldn't have an opinion.

Everyone's got something.

The first day I moved to town I knew about that family, about her mum and about their superstitious lifestyle. It was the first thing the realtor talked to me about after I signed my lease. Funny how he only brought it up after I had already signed the contract.

That's what I get for moving into a small town where paint drying could make the news.

Even when I became Nova's trainer I was warned that she may be a little weird, warned not to get on her bad side.

But, again, it doesn't bother me because it's none of my business.

Yeah, she can be strange as hell and I may not agree with her beliefs or superstitions, nor do I even believe in ghosts. But, I don't really need to either.

That's the beauty of our arrangement.

Still, though, those girls and their judgmental attitudes really get on my nerves, so I walk away before I tell them to use the equipment or get the hell out. If there is one thing I've learned over the last hellish five years, it's to take my anger out on inanimate objects, not people.

But, I've barely gotten in five punches on the punching bag when I see my boss walking towards me.

Mr. Zappia is a stout Italian man with little manners and a lot of love for money. He's got more hair on his back than he does on his head and a mustache that could rival any porn star or pedophile.

"Just the man I wanted to see," I stop my movements, wiping the sweat from my brow and pushing back a few hairs that had fallen out of my bun, "What happened with your last few appointments with Ms. Roux?"