This was better and better. Between Jenks and the cab driver, the entire city would know I quit before I gave notice. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I muttered.

Ivy draped an arm over the seat. “Did it occur to you someone may be setting you up? Everyone knows leprechauns try to buy their way out. If you get caught, your butt is buttered.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I thought of that.” I hadn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell her. “My first wish will be to not get caught.”

“Always is,” the leprechaun said slyly. “That your first wish?” In a flash of anger, I nodded, and the leprechaun grinned, dimples showing. She was halfway home.

“Look,” I said to Ivy. “I don’t need your help. Thanks for nothing.” I shuffled in my bag for my wallet. “Drop me here,” I said to the cabbie. “I want a coffee. Jenks? Ivy will get you back to the I.S. Can you do that for me, Ivy? For old times’ sake?”

“Rachel,” she protested, “you’re not listening to me.”

The cabbie carefully signaled, then pulled over. “Watch your back, Hot Stuff.”

I got out, yanked open the rear door, and grabbed my leprechaun by her uniform. My cuffs had completely masked her size spell. She was about the size of a chunky two-year-old. “Here,” I said, tossing a twenty onto the seat. “That should cover my share.”

“It’s still raining!” the leprechaun wailed.

“Shut up.” Drops pattered against me, ruining my topknot and sticking the trailing strands to my neck. I slammed the door as Ivy leaned to say something. I had nothing left to lose. My life was a pile of magic manure, and I couldn’t even make compost out of it.

“But I’m getting wet,” the leprechaun complained.

“You want back in the car?” I asked. My voice was calm, but inside I was seething. “We can forget the whole thing if you want. I’m sure Ivy will take care of your paperwork. Two jobs in one night. She’ll get a bonus.”

“No,” came her meek, tiny voice.

Ticked, I looked across the street to the Starbucks catering to uptown snits who needed sixty different ways to brew a bean in order to not be happy with any of them. Being on this side of the river, the coffeehouse would likely be empty at this hour. It was the perfect place to sulk and regroup. I half dragged the leprechaun to the door, trying to guess the cost of a cup of coffee by the number of pre-Turn doodads in the front window.

“Rachel, wait.” Ivy had rolled down her window, and I could hear the cabbie’s music cranked again. Sting’s “A Thousand Years.” I could almost get back in the car.

I yanked the door of the café open, sneering at the chimes’ merry jingle. “Coffee. Black. And a booster seat,” I shouted to the kid behind the counter as I strode to the darkest corner, my leprechaun in tow. Tear it all. The kid was a vision of upright character in his red-and-white-striped apron and perfect hair. Probably a university student. I could have gone to the university instead of the community college. At least for a semester or two. I’d been accepted and everything.