by Amy Cissell
“Sir, you need to leave,” the bartender repeated. “You can come back and settle your tab tomorrow.”
“Who’s gonna make me?” he taunted.
“I will,” she responded.
Three more guys, all dressed identically to the first, stood up behind him. They looked equally sauced, and Sandy felt her stomach tightening with nerves.
“You and what army?” the drunken angel asked, roaring with laughter.
“She doesn’t need an army when she has me,” Andy said, striding around the bar and right up to the first guy. “You will leave, and you will leave now. This is the last time you’ll cause trouble in my bar. I’ve watched you, and you are not the kind of customers I care to have. This is your last warning.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh my god, those guys are idiots,” Sandy whispered. She didn’t know why she was sure that Andy could handily get rid of four large, drunken trouble-makers, but she had no doubt he was up to the task.
“This,” Andy said. He reached out and cuffed the first guy in the neck, causing him to crumple to the floor. Three more quick movements and three more bodies hit the ground.
“Brandy, call the cops if you haven’t already,” he said.
“On it. They’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Just enough time to get these idiots out of here.” Andy drug them out, one at a time. By the time he got around to dragging out the instigator, he was coming to.
He blinked groggily. “You shouldn’t have done that, Andras. Now I know you and soon, everyone else will, too.”
“Grow up,” Andy said. “If you run fast enough, maybe you’ll outrun the cops. Otherwise, you and your friends will end up spending the night in jail for a drunk and disorderly.”
“And if I press assault charges against you?”
“Then you bring attention to yourself, too. Let me know how you want to play it.”
The guy stumbled to his feet and out the door.
“My apologies, folks!” Andy boomed. “I know that group of jackasses has made trouble here before, but they won’t be back. They’ve earned themselves a permanent ban. To make up for the disturbance, Brandy and I are gonna come around with a pint of Broken Halo Bitter for each of you, on the house.”
A cheer spread spontaneously through the pub as Brandy started pouring pints.
Andy stopped by the booth where everyone but Morgana had squeezed in to start passing out beers. “Heads up to the new girl,” he said. “Your ex-husband just walked in the bar, and he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight. If he even tries to start anything, I’ll give him the same treatment I gave those punks, but he won’t shake it off as quickly as they did.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Sandy said, trying to wash down the bile that rose in her throat with a long sip of bitter.
“We’ve got your back,” Paska reassured her. “He still thinks I’m a cop, right? He’ll be too scared to start anything but an insult match.”
Misty pulled off her gloves. “Introduce me. I want to shake hands with him. Maybe he’ll give me something—a place to start.”
Aaron caught sight of Sandy and her friends, and marched right over, stopping long enough to grab one of the free beers Brandy was walking around with.
“Still slumming?” he asked.
“Hi Aaron,” she said. “I’d like to introduce you to my friends. This is Paska—you met him before, remember? And you know Vincent. The rest are Ceri, Jezebel, Drew, and Misty.” Each nodded as Sandy said their names, and Misty held out her hand. Aaron instinctively took it. “Guys, this is Aaron—my ex-husband.”
“You can leave now,” Paska said. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m sure it’s not to apologize, so get out.”
“Fine. It’s not like I want to hang out with you guys anyway. Your costumes are stupid, and what are you supposed to be anyway?” He directed his question to Vincent.
“He’s the one ring!” Misty said, indignantly.
“What one ring?” Aaron asked.
“Oh my god, doesn’t he know Lord of the Rings?” Ceri asked.
“I don’t think so,” Sandy said. “He hated everything he deemed ‘nerdy.’”
“Wow, you are so trading up,” Drew said. “Nicely done.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you talking about?” Aaron sputtered.
“Please leave,” Sandy said. “No one wants you here, and you can’t hurt my feelings by insulting my clothes, my makeup, or my nerd cred. Unless you have good news for me and our divorce is final, there is no reason for you to be here.”
Aaron looked like he was going to protest, but then Andy appeared. “I believe my best customers just asked you to stop bothering them. Finish your drink and get out, or I will kick you out.”
“You can’t do that. I have a right to be here.”
“I have the right to refuse service to anyone, and since douchebag isn’t a protected class, the law is on my side on this one. I’ve changed my mind about letting you finish your beer. Leave now.” Andy grabbed the beer from Aaron and stared him down. Sandy watched Aaron’s fists clench and release before he turned and walked out without another word.
“Thank you,” she said to Andy.
“No problem. I like kicking people out. If you guys want to work Misty up about our sad lack of Long Island Ice Teas, I could probably find a reason to kick her out, too.”
Misty stuck her tongue out at him, then froze, tongue extended. Drew had also gone still. Joseph and Bill had just walked into the pub. They made their way to the bar, sat down, and said something to Brandy. Neither Drew nor Misty moved, and Sandy was transfixed watching them. She exchanged glances with Ceri and Vincent, then shrugged, picked up her beer, and raised it in the air.
“To us! The best-dressed group of nerds in Oracle Bay.”
Everyone clinked glasses and drank deeply, then sent Andy back for another round. Sandy looked around the table and realized that for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt content.
Chapter Twelve
Sandy’s text alert went off mid-reading the next morning. She’d opened later than usual due to the fact that she’d stayed out so much later than usual and woke thirsty, headachy, and alone. The last bothered her the most. Vincent had walked her home, brushed her cheek with a kiss, and left. She thought about Drew’s advice to just grab him and plant one on him, but chickened out, and the moment was gone.
Maybe he wasn’t as into her as she was into him.
“Ma’am? Madam Alexandra?” the woman’s voice permeated the fog of Sandy’s woolgathering, and she shook herself back to the present.
“I am so sorry. Let me turn my phone to silent mode, and we’ll continue.”
Try as she might, Sandy couldn’t concentrate today. Her customers didn’t seem to notice, but she wasn’t reaching that part of her that made her qualified to be part of the psychic’s union. When she finally closed for the evening, she remembered her phone and went to check her messages.
She had seven. Three from Drew, two from Misty, and one each from Vincent and Aaron.
She read Aaron’s first to get it out of the way.
“Because you have chosen to flaunt yourself all over town without respect for our still-valid marriage, I have no choice but to cut you off financially and refuse your request for alimony. I will see you in court.” Sandy cracked a grin. She was pretty sure that ‘walking in on your husband mid-coitus’ trumped ‘a few dates after separation’ in any judge’s book. And since she’d not asked for alimony, that was a pretty hollow threat.
Next, she opened Misty’s texts. “Meeting tonight, my place.”
“Why aren’t you checking messages?”
“Fine, be that way. Wine’s on you. Bitch.”
Sandy laughed and texted a quick reply. “I’ll be there. What time? And your house, your wine. Those are the rules.”
Drew was next: “Want me to pick you up at seven?”
“Are you dead? If you don’t answer in ten minutes, I’m doing a wellness check.”
Sandy checked the timestamp on the message. Twenty minutes ago. She texted back. “Not dead, working. Something you apparently know nothing about. See you at a quarter to seven.”
The last message was from Vincent. “Leaving for Portland immediately. Something came up. Call you tomorrow? I’ll miss you.”
Sandy’s heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. Had something really come up, or was he looking for an excuse to bail? Aaron’s drama certainly didn’t make a new dating relationship any easier. It was no wonder he hadn’t popped in in person to say goodbye. No one likes a drama llama.
The bell rang, and the hinges squeaked. Sandy wiped her eyes and headed out to the main room. She’d turned off the neon signs and flipped the door sign to closed, but she hadn’t locked it. Some customers were overly optimistic.
Drew was standing in the main room, looking around. “You need some furnishings. This place would make a Spartan suggest an interior decorator.”
Sandy surprised herself and Drew by bursting into tears.
In a flash, he was by her side and pulling her into a hug. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? Misty was just kidding about the wine thing. Morgana would never let her hear the end of it if she broke the rules.”
“Vincent’s gone,” she sobbed.
“Vincent? I thought you thought he was just okay?”
“I liked him and never even got to kiss him, and now he’s gone!”
“It’ll be okay. What did he say when he came by? Is that why it took you so long to answer my text?”
“He didn’t come by. He texted me.” Sandy showed him the text message.
“That was a dick move on his part,” Drew said. “But maybe something about his case really did come up. He says he’ll call and that he’ll miss you.”
“That’s what everyone says,” she wailed.
“They most certainly do not. Well, maybe the ‘I’ll call you’ bit, but not the rest. And he didn’t ghost you.”
“It’s because of Aaron.”
“Well yeah. I thought we’d established that. Aaron is the jerk who made all of this possible. But, if you look at it another way, Aaron is the jerk who made all of this possible.” Drew waved his hands to encompass the room. “Without him, you wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t have met Vincent, and most importantly, you wouldn’t have met me.”
Sandy sniffled and smiled a watery grin. “I guess. You think he likes me?”
“I saw the way he looked at you last night. Of course he likes you. Plus, the man dressed up like the one ring to fit in with your Halloween costume. He wore lamé. That right there is definitive proof that he’s into you.”
“Then why didn’t he say goodbye?”
“The only way you’re going to find out the answer to that question is to ask him when he calls. Have you replied to his text?”
“Not yet.”
“When did he send it?”
Sandy checked the time stamp. “Just after noon.”
“That was over six hours ago. He probably thinks you’re not that into him. You’ve been out enough times that he’d expect a quick text back. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Sandy typed, erased, and retyped several times before settling on a message. “On my way to Misty’s. Home by eleven. Talk then? Hope all’s well.” She paused for a moment before hitting the send button.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now let’s get to Misty’s. She never told us what she got from her handshake with Aaron last night…wait a minute? Did you sleep with him? Is that why you’re so upset?”
“What? No! Of course I didn’t sleep with him. He’s terrible.”
“I meant Vincent.”
“Nice non-sequitur. I didn’t sleep with him, either. I slept alone. Unkissed. Untouched. Alone.”
“No wonder you’re grouchy. What happened to seizing the moment and making the first move?”
“I chickened out when he kissed my cheek. Again.”
“Girl, you have got to step up. He’s clearly not going to do it for you.”
“Looks like my chance to do that might have fled to the city.”
“You might have to chase him down to get your kiss, but I’ve seen the way you two sizzle around each other. It’ll be worth it.”
Sandy grabbed her coat and shrugged into it. “Shouldn’t I let him fly away free to see if he comes back?”
“What kind of bullshit is that? Chase him down and tell him how you feel. If he doesn’t know what he’s missing, he can’t make the right decision, and we all know that the future of this whole town depends on his decisions.”
Misty handed Drew and Sandy each a glass of wine as they walked into the dining room.
“You know, when you recruited me to be a part of your gang, you were very specific that the meetings were monthly,” Sandy said. “This is turning into an every other day kinda thing.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures!” Misty replied. “And wine is my desperate measure of choice.”
“Vincent left town,” Drew reported, settling on the couch between Jezebel and Paska.
“Hey!” Sandy said. “That’s my news!”
“It’s old news,” Misty said. “He texted me this morning to let me know.”
Sandy tried to quash the pang of jealousy that she hadn’t been the only person Vincent had communicated with. Maybe he was kissing all the psychics’ cheeks, too.
“Don’t look like that,” Misty said. “He’s my boss, and we’re in a very tricky situation right now. He didn’t say why he was leaving, only that he’d be back in a couple days and Sandy’d have more information.”
“I don’t have even that much information,” Sandy said. “But we’re supposed to talk later tonight.”
“Since there’s nothing more there, and speculation will get us nowhere, let’s talk about the oozing slime that is Sandy’s ex-husband,” Jezebel suggested.
“Who says speculation will get us nowhere?” Misty demanded. “We are psychics. Speculation is our stock and trade. Can we or can we not see into the future?”
“I can,” Paska said. “I know what’s going to happen.”
“Here we go again,” Ceri groaned. “He does this all the time. Says he, and only he, can reliably see the future with no external prompting like the rest of us require, but never shares so as to ‘not influence events’”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“and then whenever he feels like it, he’ll cross his arms, lean back, and say with ridiculously pompous solemnity, ‘It is as I have foretold.’”
Misty, Drew, and Jezebel laughed, and even Morgana cracked a smile, but Paska just looked at Ceri and said, “Do not mock what you don’t know, child. Someday that will come back and bite you in the ass.”
Ceri rolled her eyes. “Bring it, old man.”
“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Morgana asked. “Unlike the rest of you, I actually had plans tonight and don’t intend to spend the rest of the night with the lot of you. Misty, if you have real, relevant information that will further our cause, spit it out. Otherwise, I’m going home.”
“Fine, spoilsport.” Misty glanced at Sandy. “This directly relates to you, and I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but if you have any further information that could help, I’ll ask you to share it.”
“I don’t have anything else. I didn’t know he was even capable of something like this, but I can’t come up with any other answer than he’s responsible—not only for the crime itself but also for framing Vincent. He’s hated him for years, although I’d never met him before last week. And the car, his assertion that he didn’t need to report the ‘bonus’ he received for whistleblowing as income…none of it makes sense unless he’s responsible.”
“Wait until you hear what I have to say before deciding you don’t have any more
information. He’s definitely guilty. His mind is a cesspool of pettiness and mild guilt, as well as a healthy fear of getting caught. One face was at the forefront, and the only impression I got from all of it was that she is the linchpin that holds together his frame-up job. That face was not yours, Sandy, but I did get a sexual vibe from it. Can you describe for me the woman you caught him with?”
Sandy took a deep breath against the sharp pain she knew was coming at the mention of Aaron’s betrayal, but it never hit. She let out the breath in a whoosh and thought back to what she’d seen that day. “She’s shorter than me, lighter skin. Blond pixie cut. A butterfly tattoo on her lower back and a Chinese symbol on her butt. Oh, and she’s in the IT department…” Sandy’s voice trailed off as something hit her. “Vincent said that the only people who knew he was looking into the missing money were the folks in IT that he’d asked to do computer audits of everyone in his department. If Aaron was sleeping with someone from IT, she could’ve told him—or even helped him set Vincent up.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Misty cautioned. “But that does sound like the woman Aaron had tied up in his thoughts. Not literally tied up, of course. And I didn’t get the picture of her tattoos like you did, but it seems likely she’s the one.”
“What do we do with this information?” Sandy asked. “How does it help?”
“We need to get it to Vincent—via you,” Misty said. “Hopefully he’ll know who she is and can either find her himself or talk to whoever’s in charge of investigating…I don’t know anything about police procedure. I should watch some Law and Order to try and brush up so I can be more helpful.”
“I’m not sure television police shows are that good of a real-life resource,” Drew said.
“It’s better than nothing, though, right?”
“I’ve watched a lot of CSI, but those are usually murders. I’m not sure I know anything outside of how fast the forensics lab can turn around DNA samples and find fingerprint matches,” Sandy said. “However, if you need someone to wear sunglasses and be mildly witty, I am here for the team.”
