Little Red Riding Witch

011: Meeting at The Goat

[Rosalyn]

I’m freezing my ass off standing outside a bar that is not ironically called The Goat that is so popular on a Saturday night that it has a line around the door. Apparently, Karaoke Night is a local favorite. I guess there isn’t a lot to do in a sleepy, country town like this, especially for college kids. There is no shortage of overpriced restaurants that close down before 8 p.m., but real hangouts are scarce. This is nothing like LA.

Also nothing like LA, this weather. It is FREEZING. Well, not technically, but 57 degrees feels like winter when I’m used to 80+ degrees at night in summer, especially in late August. Apparently in Arcata, August often means fog and sometimes rain. They blame it on living next to the coast but I call bullshit. LA is near the coast too and it doesn’t fog over in August.

Why did I move here again?

Oh, yeah.

I wrap my little red cloak around my shoulders a little tighter against the chill. I’m wearing a borrowed white velvet minidress from Slone that fits more snuggly than I’d like. It looks amazing, the cream color making my skin look rosier than it is, but my curves are far more rounded and full than her very slender frame, so the skirt hikes up a little higher than I feel comfortable having it. Slone tried to convince me that I looked fine. In fact, her exact words were, "Damn girl, you look hot!" but I'm not 100% convinced. I mean, she's my best friend so of course she'd lie. Either way, I'm standing in line and feeling overdressed compared to everyone else in jeans and t-shirts wondering how she convinced me to walk outside like this. At least my panties are cute, because I’m sure someone will see the red lace thong at some point when I try to sit down or pick anything up off the floor.

I try to think about anything but how much my feet hurt (I hate heels) or how cold I’m feeling (why didn’t I wear tights?!) as we wait for our turn to have our IDs inspected. Slone is talking to someone ahead of us in line but I’m not paying any attention. Instead, the memory of my lunch with Axel, and the kiss we shared, warms me from the inside out as I imagine what might have happened next if he hadn’t ended our embrace and rushed off.

Sigh. I wish that moment could have lasted a bit longer.

“Earth to Rosie,” a pale hand waves back and forth before my eyes, trying to grab my attention. “Can you show the dude your ID so we can enter already?”

I blink. Somehow without me noticing we made it to the front of the line. A weirdly hairy man was looking down at me with a half grin and an outstretched hand.

"Sorry," I murmured as I show him my ID.

"Happy Birthday," he responds as he places a bright orange paper bracelet around my wrist, signifying that I am old enough to drink. "Welcome to The Goat."

"Thank you...I guess," I reply as Slone pulls me inside.

My first impression was "How cute." This place is darling. It has lots of little vintage details with classy lighting fixtures and non-standard seating. The craft cocktails at LA prices give just enough of a bougie vibe that I know I'm going to like this place. We grab a table and nosh on some overpriced but delicious bar appetizers while we wait for the rest of her "coven" to arrive.

I'm still having a hard time believing that Slone is an aspiring member of a local coven. As if joining covens, like some kind of after school club, is a real thing that people do. I am not convinced that this is a good idea either, but she insists that we figure out what happened this afternoon in the woods. I'm pretty sure what happened was a 2021 cabernet and second-hand smoke from the dude smoking weed on our way in.

Because which one makes more sense? The idea that maybe we were a little drunk and hallucinated or the idea that I am a real live witch with magical powers. Whooooo~

We don't have to wait long before we are joined by 5 other "witches" who pile into our booth. They all give names that are either crystals, botanical plants, or have some other connection to nature or mythology. I'm not kidding. Marigold, Jasper, Antigone, Rainy, and Juniper all squish in next to us, each dressed in some version of boho chic like my friend Slone, who came in a black linen jumper with a leather harness and matching boots. I'm the only one there in a dress, and the one showing off the most skin, which just makes me feel like some kind of offering...or sacrifice.

As introductions are made around the table, I take a few drinks from a grapefruit-flavored gin and tonic and attempt to make small talk with a group I hardly know. I've never been very good at small talk. I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong thing or share more information than I mean to share, so the safest thing I've found to do in social situations is to sit and smile. This seems to be working until Marigold, a lovely woman in her late 30s with sunkissed skin and frizzy blonde hair, holds a tan hand out for me to shake. "Hi Rosalynd, It's lovely to meet you. Slone has been talking about you forever."

"Really?"

"Yes," she nods sagely. "It's no surprise to us that you turned out to be a witch, and a true born one at that. The way Slone described you, and your friendship sounded like you two are truly kindred spirits." She smiles with perfectly white, straight teeth, "Your aura," she is utterly serious as she says this, without a hint of sarcasm, "is radiating power." The other ladies at the table nod their heads as well, agreeing with Marigold.

"I'm sorry," I inquire, confused. "True-born witch? What does that mean, exactly? Also, are you the leader of this" I try not to cough as I swallow another drink of my cocktail, "coven."

“Nah, she’s just like us,” Juniper intercedes, her red curls bouncing as she responds. “Our coven leader is still on his way. Although, leader is more of a formal term. He’s really just another point on our star, just like all of us.”

The other witches nod as if this is common sense.

I blink back at them, not sure how I should respond.

“She seems to be confused.” Her twin brother, Jasper interrupts. Leaning forward, his long red hair shields his face as he adds, "Slone did warn us that she is an unbeliever."

The group nods in unison again. It's actually starting to feel a bit creepy, the way they all agree in sync like a bunch of pointy hat-wearing bobbleheads. Not that any of them are wearing pointed hats at the moment.

"A true-born witch," Marigold explains, returning to the original topic of discussion, "Is someone born with power. You don't have to learn the craft as some of us do," she pauses to give Slone a sad look. Slone pretends not to notice, sitting taller. "You are naturally just attuned to the flow of energy around us. It's like being a different species. You aren't exactly human, but you aren't exactly not human if that makes any sense."

"No, it doesn't" I admit, shaking my head and holding my hands in front of me in confusion. How can someone be human and not human at the same time?

"Maybe I can explain it better," Rainy. a dazzlingly beautiful brunette with almond-shaped brown eyes and high cheekbones smiles excitedly, bouncing in place and raising her hand as if she were in a lecture and not in a bar. "It's like..."

"Why don't you let me explain, Ms. Star."

Everyone stands and bows at the man speaking behind me.

“Is this the young woman you were mentioning to me earlier?”

There is something familiar about his voice.

“Yes, Gideon,” Antigone speaks up, her ebony skin sparkling in the overhead lights. “This is Slone’s friend, Rosalynd.”

“Rosalynd" His arrogant voice hisses, rolling my name around on his tongue as if it were poisonous candy, both sweet and dangerous. So that’s your name.

I stand up and turn around to get a good look at the man who smells strongly of sage and something else…lavender?

Sandy blond hair, and piercing chocolate brown eyes framed in thick black glasses. His collared shirt is crisp enough to cut your finger.

"You!" I shout pointing a finger.