Crystal Magic - Starfall Grove Book 1
Copyright © Sheri Dwyer 2023
Chapter Three:
(Please keep in mind this is not the final version, so is subject to change and may contain small errors.)
Crawling out of bed early the next morning, Jasper stumbled to the kitchen in search of coffee to help him wake up for what was going to be a busy day. Idly scratching his chest, he put a paper filter into the brewer’s basket, then turned on the tap and filled the carafe with cold water. Letting out a huge yawn that cracked his jaw and made his eyes water, he poured the water into the top of the machine, then went to the fridge and pulled out the bag of grounds he kept in the freezer and began scooping them into the drip basket.
Coffee went flying when loud banging on his front door scared the crap out of him.
Jasper squinted at the clock over the stove. Six-thirty. What kind of idiot knocked on someone’s door this early in the morning?
The kind of idiot who knocked barely a second later.
Scowling at his front door—whoever was there could bloody well wait until he’d had his coffee —Jasper looked at the grounds covering his counter and floor then glared at the door again. He’d better be able to make a pot or someone was going to die. Peering into the bag he’d crushed in his hand, he thought there might be enough. Barely. He’d have to scoop up the grounds covering the counter to make up the difference, but at least there’d be no bloodshed.
He almost changed his mind when whoever was at his front door pounded on it again, this time hard enough to rattle the picture hanging on the wall next to it. For fuck’s sake. Slamming the bag to the counter, Jasper hurried to the door and yanked it open. “What do you—”
A microphone was shoved into his face. “What can you tell me about the billboard on Canyon Drive?”
Jasper blinked at the strange woman standing on his front step. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The digital billboard on Canyon Drive. Sexual poses of you and an unidentified man have been streaming on it for the last two hours.” She pushed the microphone further into his face. “Do you have any comment?”
He stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Sexual poses? “I don’t…what?”
Hearing his name, Jasper looked up, his eyes going wide when he saw the reporters gathered in front of his house. Two news vans from the city’s rival news stations, Channel Six and SGTV, were parked on the street. Cameramen from both stations and a reporter he recognized from Channel Six were standing at the end of his walkway. Next to them were Stan, Lou, and Fred, three seniors who had gotten together to buy a police scanner, who moonlighted as reporters for extra beer money.
When Stan saw Jasper looking, he waved his cane in the air and almost fell over, saved only by Lou and Fred grabbing hold of him.
“What’s with them nekid pictures, Jasper? Does your mother know you have a tattoo on your bum?”
Jasper reflexively reached a hand behind him to cover the tattoo. How did Stan know about…wait. Naked pictures of him? The microphone was shoved in his face again, almost bumping his nose. Pushing it aside, he frowned at the woman reporter who was watching him with a predatory glean in her eyes. Suddenly feeling like a mouse about to be eaten by a lion, Jasper started to back up.
Stan shouted again, this time joined by Lou and Fred, their voices jumbling together so he couldn’t understand what any of them were saying. Both cameras swung in his direction, red lights glowing, then the reporter from Channel Six began coming up his walk. The woman reporter, who he now recognized from SGTV’s weekly wrap-up show, stepped closer, her eyes roaming over Jasper’s chest, then dropping lower.
Which is when it hit him he was standing there in only his boxers.
His favorite, well-worn, almost see-through boxers.
One hand came up to cover his naked chest, the other lower to cover the front of his shorts. “Excuse me,” Jasper mumbled and stepped back, blocking the reporter with his elbow when she tried to follow him in—which surely had to be against journalistic rules—then closed the door in her face, quickly locking it. Then he threw the deadbolt for good measure.
Staring at the dark brown wood, he wondered what in the hell was going on. Had she really said there were images of him having sex with some man streaming on Canyon Drive? Then Stan’s question about the tattoo on his butt, which he should know nothing about, echoed in his mind.
Jasper let his head thunk against his door. Fuck. He was never going to live this one down.
Two cups of coffee later and feeling much more alert, Jasper was resolved about two things. First, no matter what someone was trying to do to him, he wasn’t going to let this morning’s incident or any fallout from it prevent him from getting his store ready to open on schedule, and second, he was going to find whoever was harassing him and stop them before they could do anything else, even if that meant hunting Lucas down and shaking the name out of him.
Of course, he’d have to get out of his house first.
Using a fingertip to push the curtain aside, Jasper peered through the small opening and saw the reporters were still waiting out front. So no going that way unless he was willing to risk giving them another soundbite for the evening news.
Though at least this time he’d be wearing clothes.
Deciding to try another route first, Jasper set his empty cup in the kitchen sink, then went to his bedroom to get his phone. After ordering an Uber, using Spencer’s address next door for the pickup, he pulled on his favorite jeans and a coral and aqua t-shirt. Shoving his wallet into his back pocket and phone in his front, Jasper grabbed a ball cap off his dresser and pulled it low on his head, then looked around for his sunglasses to finish off his disguise. Not seeing them in his room, he did a quick search of his house, finally finding them, for some unknown reason, in the back of the fridge.
Jasper put them on, then looked at himself in the mirror and snorted. This wasn’t going to fool anyone who knew him. Then he shrugged. It seemed to work for actors in Hollywood. So who knows, maybe it would work for him too.
Grabbing his keys from the bowl next to the front door, he took one more look through the front window—the reporters were still there—then slipped out the back. Moving quickly, he snuck over to the hedge separating his and Spencer’s yards, thankful he didn’t have to try scaling the tall fence that had been there before he and Spencer had torn it down and replaced it with shrubs when his best friend had moved in next door.
Putting Jasper’s world back in balance.
Their parents had lived next to each other when he and Spencer had been born, so they’d been best friends practically from the womb. Growing up, they’d done almost everything together; from learning to ride bikes for the first time, to trying out for the basketball team—Jasper had easily made it, but Spencer, who hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, hadn’t—then the volleyball team—which Spencer had made but Jasper hadn’t since his face was a ball magnet—then signing up for the chess club—which both of them found mind-numbingly boring—to dating girls and experiencing their first kiss—which is when both of them realized girls were fine as friends but they really didn’t like kissing them—they’d been inseparable.
When Jasper had decided it was time for him to move out of his parent’s house, Spencer had helped him look for a new home and celebrated with him when Jasper had signed the papers on the cozy little two-story he’d fallen in love with. Then Spencer had rolled up his sleeves and helped Jasper move his belongings into his new home.
The moment the property next to Jasper’s went on the market, Spencer had quickly placed an offer. Within two months they were living next door to each other again, which they’d both missed. Something Jasper was grateful for now as he slipped from between the cedar bushes and crept around to the back of Spencer’s house, out of sight of the street where the reporters were gathered.
He was passing under the bedroom window when it opened and Spencer leaned out.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Shhh,” Jasper whispered, holding his finger in front of his mouth as he stood. “I’m trying to get away from the reporters.”
Spencer blinked. “What reporters?”
“The ones in front of my house.”
“Why are there reporters at your house?”
“They want to talk to me about some pictures on the billboard on Canyon Drive.”
“Oh my god. That’s you?” Spencer shouted.
“Would you keep it down,” Jasper whisper-yelled, glaring at him.
“Sorry,” Spencer said, speaking quieter. “It’s just, the news has been going on about the porn on the billboard for the last couple of hours. I didn’t realize it was you.”
Porn? That sounded a lot worse than just naked. “How bad is it, Spence?”
“Uhm, not good.” Spencer scrunched up his face as he gave Jasper an apologetic look. “It sounded like there were a lot of shots that make it pretty clear what you are doing. They, uh, apparently don’t hide much.”
Jasper closed his eyes and sighed. Opening them, he said, “Stan was asking about my tattoo.”
Spencer winced. “Oh, shit. If he knows, everyone’s going to know it’s you by noon.”
“Yep.” Including his mother. Jasper would have to call and let her know before she heard about it from someone else.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Go to my shop.” When Spencer looked at him in surprise, Jasper shrugged. “There’s not much I can do, not without knowing who’s behind it. So I’m just going to focus on getting my store ready for the opening.”
“Good for you. If it was me, I’d probably go into hiding.”
Which is most likely what the person doing this to him expected. Fuck that. “I’m not going to let some asshole push me around.”
Spencer laughed. “They have no idea who they’re messing with, do they?”
No, they did not. But they were going to find out.
Spencer looked him over critically, then leaned down and flicked the rim of Jasper’s ball cap. “I don’t think this disguise is going to get you very far. You want me to smuggle you out of here in my car?”
Jasper shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. I already called for a ride.” He pulled his phone from his pocket when it buzzed and looked at the screen. “Actually, it’s coming down the street right now.”
“You’d better go then.” Spencer pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go create a distraction to help you make your escape.”
Jasper eyed him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”
Spencer grinned, then smoothed out his face, trying to look innocent, which might have been believable if not for the twinkle in his eyes. “I think it might be a good time to water the lawn. With my power sprayer. And if it goes into your yard and gets those pesky reporters all wet…” He held up his hands. “Well, your grass needs to be watered too.”
Jasper snorted, easily imagining Spencer dousing everyone and then claiming it was an accident. But he didn’t want his friend to get himself into trouble. “It’s fine, Spence. I’ve got this.”
“If you’re sure.” When Jasper nodded, he said, “Alright. But if you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know.” Rapping his knuckles on the vinyl siding, Jasper scooted to the corner of the house. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, he sprinted for the Uber that was just pulling up. Diving into the backseat, he told the driver to step on it.
Having obviously watched one too many Fast and Furious, his driver took off with a squeal of tires—an impressive feat for a Focus—and zoomed past the reporters. It took them a moment to realize Jasper was in the car, then they raced for their vehicles and started to give chase. When they went around the corner and he lost sight of them, Jasper faced forward and grinned at the reflection of the Uber driver in the rear-view mirror. Then he did a double-take. “Clem?”
The Uber driver stared at him for a minute, then broke into a big smile. “Oh, hey Jasper. I didn’t recognize you in those glasses and hat.”
Good to know they actually worked. “I’m in disguise.”
“Hiding from those reporters?” Clem asked, pointing his thumb behind him.
“Yep. Nice driving by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“So when did you start working for Uber?” Jasper asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the top of the front seats.
“About three months ago. Maisie wanted to take dance lessons,” Clem said, glancing over his shoulder at Jasper as he spoke about his younger daughter. “And what with Lorraine being laid off again, we didn’t have enough to cover it.”
Jasper nodded, getting it. Lorraine was the nicest person in the world and a fantastic mother, but she had a hard time keeping a job. Not because she wasn’t skilled or a good worker, but because she and electronics didn’t get along. At all. As the great, great, a thousand times great-granddaughter of Elektra, if she didn’t keep her storm power locked down at all times, things had a tendency to explode around her. Especially electrical equipment.
So if her control slipped the slightest while she was using a computer or a phone, all that was left was a smoking ruin.
And her control often slipped when she sneezed.
And Lorraine was subject to seasonal allergies.
Hence her being laid off again.
“I’ll keep working on a crystal combo to help dampen her powers,” Jasper said. “I thought I’d figured it out the last time.”
“We did too,” Clem said, stopping at a red light. He turned in his seat and gave Jasper a rueful smile. “The purple charm worked for a couple of months. Then she exploded her boss’s computer.”
Jasper winced. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Clem sighed. “It was just before Christmas too.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll keep trying.”
“I appreciate that.” He squinted in the rearview mirror, then looked at Jasper. “Those reporters caught up to us.”
Jasper turned in his seat. Sure enough, the reporters were almost on them. “Do you think you can lose them?”
“Don’t you worry, Jasper. I won’t let those damn paparazzi catch you.”
Jasper snorted at the thought of two news vans and three old men in their seventies driving a wood-paneled station wagon being called paparazzi. But if Clem could get rid of them, he could call them whatever he wanted.
Jasper turned to face the front again when Clem revved the engine.
The light turned green.
The Focus shot forward with a squeal of tires, the reporters and the station wagon in hot pursuit.
What followed next was the strangest, most law-abiding high-speed chase Jasper had ever been in—not that he’d been in any—through the streets of Starfall Grove. Clem’s little Focus zipped through the neighborhoods surrounding Jasper’s, coming out near the grocery store, then taking a hard left at Third and heading down to the river before going up Larch and driving past the elementary school.
And every time they stopped for a light or a stop sign, the reporters and Stan’s crew would catch up and fall in behind them. Then, when the light turned green, Clem would take off in a squeal of tires, and the chase would be on again.
With everyone driving within the posted speed limits.
Clem didn’t want to risk getting a ticket.
After about fifteen minutes of what had to be the slowest chase in history, which felt a lot more like they were the lead car in the Annual Spring Parade, Jasper resigned himself to the fact that they were never going to shake the reporters.
He should have had more faith in Clem, the new Uber driver who knew the streets of Starfall Grove like the back of his hand, and who still had a trick or two up his sleeve.
As they neared downtown, Clem began circling the park—which took up two full city blocks—over and over. After their fifth time around, Jasper leaned forward in his seat.
“What are we doing?”
“Waiting for 8:17.”
Which told Jasper nothing. But since it was 8:13, he sat back in his seat to see what Clem had planned.
He didn’t disappoint.
On what had to be their seventh, or maybe eighth, time around the park, Clem suddenly took a hard right and raced—still staying under the speed limit—to the end of the block, then took a left and another right, leaving the reporters about half a block behind them.
“Hold on, Jasper,” Clem shouted back at him. “It’s about to get bumpy.” He whipped his car to the left, taking them down a narrow alley. They came flying out of the alley and took another right, cutting off a farm truck full of produce. Squealing brakes and horns honking filled the air, but Clem kept going. Just before he reached the next intersection, Clem put on a burst of speed, possibly going five miles over the speed limit, which felt a whole lot faster when they hit the railway tracks on the other side.
Jasper braced his arms on the roof as he was bounced around hoping Clem hadn’t broken an axle with that stunt.
Unfazed, Clem slowed down, then grinned back at Jasper. “That should get rid of them.”
Jasper looked back and saw the lead news van turning out of the alley, with the others close behind it.
Clem pulled the car over to the side of the street.
Frowning, Jasper was about to ask why he’d stopped when the lights on the railway crossing arms started to flash. Then they dropped down, cutting off the reporters. A few seconds later, he heard the rumbling clickety-clack of an oncoming train. A loud whistle pierced the air. The clickety-clacking grew louder, then a train passed between them and the reporters.
Jasper grinned and turned to Clem, his fist held out. “Awesome driving.”
After a quick fist bump, Clem got them moving again.
Relieved to have lost the reporters, Jasper relaxed back in his seat and chatted with Clem as he drove through the streets at a more leisurely pace to Jasper’s shop.
But Jasper knew it would only be a matter of time until the reporters found out about the new business he was opening and tracked him down at his store. It wouldn’t surprise him if Stan and his gang, the founding members of the Starfall Grove grapevine, weren’t already on their way there to meet him.
——
As they pulled into the parking lot behind his shop, Jasper pointed to his car. “You can drop me off there.”
Clem frowned as he got closer. “Looks like you have a flat.”
“Yeah. I think I drove over a nail.”
Clem’s frown deepened when he pulled around to the other side of Jasper’s car and saw those tires were also flat. “Must have been a lot of nails.”
Jasper made a non-committal sound.
Clem put the Focus in park and turned to look at him. “This nail you run over have anything to do with why those reporters wanted to see you?”
No one could ever accuse Clem of not being sharp.
Jasper shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“You in any trouble?” Clem asked, suddenly looking concerned.
“No. At least, nothing you need to worry about,” Jasper said as he opened the door.
“Jasper—”
“It’s okay, Clem. I’ve got it handled.”
“And your car?”
“Cliff’s meeting me here this morning to pick it up.”
Clem nodded. “Good.” But he didn’t look any less worried.
Patting him on the shoulder, Jasper got out of the car. Clem rolled down his window. Jasper leaned down and gave him a reassuring smile, hoping that would allay Clem’s worry. “Say hi to Lorraine and the kids for me. And let Lorraine know I should have something for her by next week.”
“Alright. But if you need any help, call. Me and Lorraine owe you for everything you’ve done for us.”
“Sure,” Jasper said, nodding as he stood upright. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting Clem get close to whatever was happening to him. Smacking the roof, he stepped back, then waited until Clem drove out of the parking lot before going to his car and deactivating the shock field around it.
After double-checking to make sure his vehicle hadn’t been disturbed overnight—it hadn’t—Jasper headed down the side of the building toward the front entrance, slowing when he saw the empty red paint cans on the ground.
Crouching next to them, he touched the closest one, frowning when his fingers came away wet. Standing, he looked up at the side of his building and let out a pained gasp.
“No. Oh, god. No.” Stumbling forward with his hands outstretched, Jasper’s eyes moved over every inch of the mural he had specially commissioned for his grand opening. The three-dimensional crystal masterpiece, created by his amazingly talented friend Trish, had been ruined. Completely and utterly destroyed by the hateful words painted over it in red. Sex Fiend, Deceiver, Fraud, and Whore had been written over and over, covering the entire wall, red paint dripping from them like blood oozing from an open wound. The sheer maliciousness of it made him want to cry. Not because of the offensive words but for the senseless destruction of what had been a work of art.
But instead of crying, Jasper got mad.
Pulling out his phone, he called the police. Then he called his mother.
“Mom,” he said when she answered the phone. “That bastard got me again.”