Mad About You

Sanderson guy is trying to pull the rug out from under me ?"
    "We're strictly friends," she assured him, rolling her shoulders as her underarms grew moist. "I'm sure the billboards are some kind of joke."
    "Well, he has a lousy sense of timing." Trey's voice grew softer. "Jasmine, are you sure there isn't something going on between the two of you? I can't deny that I'd be very hurt, but I'd rather know now than be embroiled in some kind of love triangle scandal."
    The warm, fuzzy feeling Ladden had evoked in her last night barbed through her chest. "Trey, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Ladden Sanderson."
    "Good," he said, his good mood seemingly restored. "But the reporters will probably shadow us tonight. Do you think you can force yourself to occasionally throw adoring glances my way?"
    She smiled into the phone. "I think I can manage that."
    "Wear something red."
    Jasmine said good-bye, then pushed a button with a shaky finger to disconnect the call. She longed for a few quiet hours to sort through the emotions ricocheting through her, but she realized nothing would be resolved until she spoke with Ladden.
    "This is it, no?" the driver asked.
    With a jolt, Jasmine looked up and saw they had indeed arrived at the city impound lot. She paid the little man, took a deep breath, and entered the government office. To her amazement, the clerk accepted her payment and released her car without comment or raised eyebrows. Feeling marginally better, she handed a copy of the release to the attendant, then walked stiffly to her car. But just as she inserted her key, a voice split the air.
    "Ms. Crowne, over here!"
    She jerked her head toward the sound, then froze when she saw a lone camera with a large lens pointed in her direction.
    "Say cheese."
    She could hear the whirring succession of photos being taken as the man twisted his shoulders for different angles. Her tongue would not move.
    At last he paused. "Care to make a statement, Ms. Crowne?"
    "About what?" she sputtered, putting on as brave a face as she could muster.
    "About how the governor's neglect has driven you into the arms of a blue-collar lover?"
    "That's ridiculous," she stammered.
    The man smirked. "Not according to the guard at the complex where you live. You really should be more discreet, Ms. Crowne."

    * * *

    Ladden gripped the steering wheel of Mrs. Pickney's car and eased it onto the shoulder of the bypass.
    "Holy Mary, Mother of God," he breathed. "I'm in the Twilight Zone."
    But the line of billboards that stretched before him were all too real. Yesterday most of them had encouraged citizens to vote for Governor Trey McDonald. Today they all announced that the governor's girlfriend was being pursued by an idiot.
    He climbed out of the car on shaky legs, still unable to believe his eyes. How had this happened?
    Ladden raked his hand through his hair. A shudder of fear traveled his spine as the words he'd muttered last night on the way home finally came back to him. I wish Jasmine could see how crazy I am about her.
    He swallowed hard, shaking his head. No way.
    There were no such things as magic lamps and mobile carpets and genies and wishes. Yet his paper's headline taunted him. A wise second wish, Master. He leaned heavily against the car. He was absolutely, positively losing his mind.
    "Greetings, Master."
    Ladden jerked his head around, straightening when he saw the skinny homeless man from his store, swathed in yards of pale fabric and still sporting his black turban. The man looked completely at ease, as if he often passed time at the base of a billboard. Ladden's mouth twisted—the oddball probably did.
    "You," he said, striding toward the man, "have some explaining to do."
    The man grinned, revealing white, gapped teeth. "Your lady saw the signs this morning. She was quite surprised."
    Ladden's stomach lurched. "No more surprised than I was." He tried to keep his voice calm. He was, after all, dealing with a maniac. "Or, I wager, her boyfriend," he added dryly. Then he frowned. "How do you know she saw them?"
    Another grin. "I was with her, of course."
    "Of course," Ladden said.
    "My last master wasted his wishes foolishly," the man said with a sad face. Then he brightened. "But you... you are a good man with a big heart and—how you say—a big head?" He tapped his finger to his temple.
    Ladden pursed his lips. "I hope you mean smart."
    "Ah, yes—smart," the man affirmed. "A wise master. Have you thought about your