Suddenly Psychic

by Melanie Baxter

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  Forbidden Publications

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Melanie Baxter

  First published in 2008, 2008

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  SUDDENLY PSYCHIC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  AUTHOR INFORMATION

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  SUDDENLY PSYCHIC

  MELANIE BAXTER

  Copyright © 2008

  Cover Art by ML BENTON © 2008

  Editor—DENYSE LOEB

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned.

  Published by Forbidden Publications, JANUARY 2008

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  SUDDENLY PSYCHIC

  by

  Melanie Baxter

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  This book is dedicated to its ‘soul group'. My fabulous Chris who dared me to write it, Dad who kept me going, Mum who had a sixth sense about it, Viv and Jane who cackled and critiqued, and Johnny who laid the almighty karmic egg, without so much as a squawk.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  The Defining Moment

  "I was three years old when my third eye opened,” Madame Pungenti spoke slowly. Her green sari rustled as she leaned forward and drew back her coarse black fringe.

  I gulped when she revealed the bulging, bright red birthmark in the middle of her brown forehead. Her heavy breasts were draped on the low table, her brown eyes fixed on mine as she waited for a response.

  "It looks like it might have a touch of conjunctivitis,” I blurted, trying to ignore Tanya, who sat next to me, her shoulders shaking. “Perhaps you should get it looked at by a doctor?"

  If I hadn't been so cheeky, maybe my life wouldn't have turned upside down from that day on. It wasn't entirely my fault though. I mean, it wasn't even my choice to be on the end of Blackpool Pier with ‘Madame Pungenti’ peering into my clammy palm anyway. I was dragged along by my best friend.

  "Come on, Amber. I wanna find out who we'll pull tonight.” Tanya had persuaded me into the red palmist tent by promising to buy me drinks all night. With an icy wind whipping at our hair and plastering my skimpy cotton skirt to my legs, the shelter of the tent didn't seem like a bad idea, even if it did cost twenty pounds each.

  "Hindsight is more powerful than foresight” so my Harvey says, but I'm not so sure I agree. Thanks to the Indian clairvoyant, whose onion-smelling tent was as ‘pungenti’ as her name, I was catapulted into a psychic adventure that took me on a whistle stop tour of occult delights, not to mention a sprinkling of astrology, Tantric sex, true love, betrayal, and psychology along the way. Oh yes, Madame Pungenti has a lot to answer for.

  You're probably wondering what I'm on about. Well, I'll tell you how it happened, but you have to empty your mind first. No prejudgments or second guessing. If you're willing to open your mind to what I'm about to tell you, you could glean something from my mistakes. Or at least get a signpost to your own truth along the way.

  For starters I have to say that Blackpool was hardly the holiday break I would have chosen. Escaping the London crush was all very well but Blackpool in January? Still, Tanya had won a weekend for two at work and she could be pretty persuasive when she tried.

  "You're comin’ to Blackpool girl,” she had screeched on the phone.

  "I am?” I jerked the receiver back from my ear.

  Tanya has always been loud, lively, and as luscious as a juicy plum. Men find her pretty overpowering though, and I can understand why. Everything about Tanya is big. Her wacky personality, her wild black hair, even her hippo laugh. When Tanya laughs, which is often, you can't help yourself laughing along. It seems to have a cathartic quality of its own. It's one of the reasons I like her. That, and the fact that she takes life in her stride with those long legs of hers.

  Anyway, within minutes of announcing she'd won this prize, she'd swept aside my excuses and was round at my flat, throwing out the contents of my wardrobe on to my rumpled duvet. She rummaged through the clothes, grabbing anything she thought I should pack. Pudding, my black cat, kneaded his claws into my pillow uncertainly until Tanya shoved him away to make space for more clothes.

  "Go on, you great lump."

  Pudding flumped down from his favorite spot, licked his shoulder a couple of times, then padded towards the kitchen with his stomach swaying and his tail aloft.

  "And don't you stick your pencil sharpener at me boy!” Tanya yelled at his bottom. “You're not really trying to use that cat as an excuse, are you, Amber?” She held up a sparkly, silver vest to the light and looked at it critically. “He's fat enough to survive an ice age let alone you being away for a night or two. And as for your job, stuff ‘em I say. You've been working for that dodgy racket far too long anyway."

  "But I've only been with them two months.” I snatched the vest from her.

  She stuck out her pierced tongue and picked up a short, red dress from the jumble of clothes instead. “Exactly. Two months too long. Call themselves a bloody cleaning company? Cleaning out ol’ grannies and the like, you mean. Bob's Cleaning? More like ‘Bobby'll clean you out'. You shouldn't be pedaling that crap door to door. I'm embarrassed for you. Come on, a weekend away and you'll be a new woman. You need to come temping with me, girl, is what you need. You'd love it."

  "Enough!” I held up my hands. “I'll come. Just leave my clothes, will you. Let's go for a drink before I throttle you."

  "
Knew you'd be up for it. Can I borrow this for the weekend?” She held the sleeveless red dress up to her shaggy coat and I just knew she'd look great in it.

  "Course, now are we going out or what?"

  So that was that. Before I knew it, we were on the train out of London and on the end of Blackpool pier, in Madame Pungenti's tent. Tanya sat next to me on a low stool as the Indian woman peered into my sweaty palm, spouting about how I was about to make a career change and had an important decision ahead. While Madame Pungenti hunched over my palm, I grimaced at Tanya, but she stomped on my foot under the table so I tried to concentrate. With a sharp intake of breath, Madame Pungenti traced a finger along my palm.

  "Interesting. You have a powerful gift.” She glanced up at me with her intent brown eyes, “It is the gift to be master of your own destiny. It could bring great sorrow or great joy..."

  "Uh huh?” I glanced at Tanya who refused to look at me.

  "I am thinking I can see the significance of the letter ‘C’ in your life. This is a big influence. Does that mean anything to you?"

  "Ahhh.” I closed my eyes for a minute before meeting her stare. “I think I know what the C is. I've been thinking about curry for dinner tonight. Do you think that could be it?"

  I knew I was being rude, but being with Tanya always made me more outrageous than I really was. Unfortunately, Madame Pungenti was not impressed.

  "I am seeing that you are not listening or taking seriously what I am saying to you.” She snapped and dropped my hand.

  I bit my lip and tried to be sincere. “Sorry, no offence meant, it was just a silly joke. I am taking it seriously. In fact, I'm fascinated by the whole clairvoyant thing, I mean, how did you get into it anyway?"

  That's when she told us about her third eye, showed us her birth mark, and I made the comment about getting it fixed up at the doctors.

  "Get out of my tent!” she shouted.

  Tanya and I didn't waste any time.

  "Do you think that blob on her forehead was a fake birth mark?” I asked after we collapsed from laughing on a bench further down the pier.

  "Don't know and don't care.” Tanya gulped in the cold sea air as she clutched her side. “I'm just pissed off ‘cos I didn't get my fortune read."

  "She didn't tell me anything either, though. I mean, what a con.” The smell of fish and chips gusted towards us and a sharp stab of hunger cramped my stomach. I licked my lips.

  "Come on, Tan, let's go have some lunch. My treat.” I stood up and pulled on her arm, but she dragged me back down to the bench.

  "Hang on. Let me get me breath back. You've got some nerve, you know. If she puts a curse on us and we don't score a hit with the Blackpool boys tonight, it'll be you I'm blaming."

  "That's gypsies, not fake Indian palmists. We're just as capable of cursing her as she is of us, you daft brush.” I looked back at the tent with a snort.

  In the distance, the small figure of Madame Pungenti stood outside her red, wooden signboard with her arms folded. She was looking in our direction. Just as I gave her a cheery wave a gust of wind blew her wig off and she shrieked and ran back into the tent.

  "Did you see that?” I nudged Tanya.

  It set us off giggling so badly that we could hardly speak to order our fish and chips when we reached the end of the pier.

  That night we hit the glitzy, gaudy clubs of Blackpool. As usual, Tanya had all the boys eyeing up her sexy handkerchief top on the dance floor. Queuing for drinks, I watched her with a mixture of pride, admiration, and, I have to admit, a flutter of envy. I treasured her friendship and was used to being in her long-legged shadow, but Tanya's appeal still triggered in me the sense of inadequacy planted long ago by family dynamics. I turned away from her gyrating hips and decided to distract myself with the sleazy bloke who was trying to chat me up as I queued at the bar.

  "So what d'you do then, model or something?” His hot, beer breath blew in my ear.

  "I'm a psychic actually.” I turned and stared without blinking at his pockmarked face and gelled blond hair.

  "Wow, a cosmic chic. I'm impressed. Can you read palms?"

  He thrust his right hand under my nose, and I grasped his wrist with my fingers and started making calculated guesses. It wasn't hard, especially since I'd seen him slip off his wedding ring before approaching me.

  I shouted above the music, “I can see you've had a difficult childhood. Parents divorced when you were small?"

  "Hey, you're good. How did you know about that?” He licked his thick lips as I traced another line on his grimy palm.

  I stood on tiptoes to reach his ear. “You're married too, aren't you?” Before he could pull away I added, “Your wife doesn't understand you though, does she?"

  "Are you a friend of Helen's or something? Did she send you to spy on me?” He snatched his hand from my grasp and stared at me wide eyed.

  "No, I never met her,” I yelled. “Just a gift I have."

  "You're bloody spooky. How d'you do it?"

  "I was three years old when my third eye opened.” I tapped the middle of my forehead, trying to suppress a grin.

  "This my mate's gotta see. What ye drinking ... erm, what's yer name?"

  "Amber. That's a double vodka and orange for me and a southern comfort and lemonade for my mate, Tanya."

  After that, the night was mine. Thanks to my newfound aptitude for palmistry, I had four blokes eating out my hand, buying me drinks all evening, and lapping up all the ridiculous advice I was giving. While Tanya was doing a weird Mediterranean mambo on the dance floor with some Greek bloke named Titus, I was, for once, out of her shadow. I was the center of attention and liking it. Liking it a lot.

  Much later, after Tanya had exchanged tongues and phone numbers with Titus, and I'd had enough drinks to make the lights spin, we splashed back through the neon lit puddles to our hotel. In our room, I told Tanya what I'd done.

  "You told him what, girl?” She squealed. “He was gonna be a monk? Don't say he believed you?"

  "Well, yeah, he was one of those born-again types and was probably drunk enough to believe anything."

  "Oh, my God, Amber. You gotta do this, girl. You gotta start charging for it, I mean. Give old Madame Pungenti a run for her money, I reckon. Go on, I dare you."

  "A dare? That's so unfair. You know I can't resist a challenge.” I scowled at her, but inside I felt strangely excited. Setting myself up as a fake psychic would probably be huge fun, and I might make some money along the way.

  "Okay, you're on. Why not.” I flopped down on my bed. “But whatever you do, don't call that Titus bloke again. He danced like he had a pea stuck between his buttocks."

  "Oi!” she screamed, “whadya on about girl? He's bloomin’ George Clooney with knobs on..."

  "I didn't know George had a monobrow and a wiggly butt.” I dodged the pillow she threw at me.

  "So what?” She cocked her perfect eyebrow at me. “He's got money ‘n drives an Alpha."

  "See him again if you like,” I threw my tights at her. “But the day you marry a bloke named ‘Tight-arse’ will be the day I die."

  And with that we had a full blown pillow fight until the couple in the next room banged on the wall and shouted obscenities.

  The next morning, we slept late and had to make a mad dash for the train home. Tanya slept most of the way with her head jogging on my shoulder. I started thinking about Madame Pungenti and what had happened in the night club. It wasn't just the dare from Tanya that was attractive. It was the buzz of power I'd felt when I was giving advice. It made me feel sort of ... significant: an experience that I wanted to indulge again. That and Madame Pungenti seemed to be creaming it in from the tourists. I mean, forty pounds in an hour wasn't bad. Perhaps it would impress Harvey. The familiar tingle in the pit of my stomach intensified as I allowed my thoughts to linger on his sea green eyes and practical hands. Hands that had invented hundreds of prototypes as House Of Innovation's head of gadgetry. Hands that had brushed mine often as
we shared a friendship that I longed to transform into more.

  I chewed my bottom lip as I pondered yet again how to make myself irresistible to a sexy super brain like Harvey. I would need every ounce of wit, skill, and creativity to hook a guy so far out of my usual league. My job doing door-to-door sales for a dodgy cleaning company was hardly an impressive start. A psychic would be much more intriguing.

  By the time I'd got back to my flat, I'd made up my mind. I was going to begin a new life; a life that would involve developing a third eye quicker than you could say “psychic sausages."

  That night, when I finally tumbled into bed too tired to even shove Pudding off my stomach, I remember feeling a glow of gratitude towards Madame Pungenti. She had inspired me. Despite the fact that I was about as clairvoyant as a calculator, I was determined to become the best psychic in London.

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  Chapter Two

  Sowing the Psychic Seeds

  "I knew it was a bad idea, you going to Blackpool with Tanya,” Harvey groaned when I told him of my brilliant plan. “What other crazy schemes has she put in your head?"

  "It's my idea, thank you, and if you're going to be all fuddy-duddy about it, I won't share all the money I'll be making.” Even though he couldn't see it, I pouted at the phone.

  "You wish.” He laughed and added in a low voice, “Look, how about I come round tonight and you can tell me all about it then?"

  "Alright then. ‘Round sevenish. Oh, and bring me something nice,” I said as the image of his lopsided grin sprang to mind.

  Tanya was great, but I'd had a big dollop of her recently, and, for an academic genius, Harvey was pretty damn sexy. He didn't take any nonsense either. When he told me off, or corrected me on something, wow, that really got me going. Shame he wasn't mine ... yet.

  An evening class, ‘Life Art For Beginners', had drawn us together, I suppose you could say. We found a mutual hatred for the highly artistic but tyrannical Miss Bust. She was so obsessed with Van Gogh that she had moulded several clay ears in his honor. We had sat next to each other and exchanged looks over her dramatic exclamations at our useless attempts at still life. The third session took our friendship up a notch. Miss Bust said she had something we could really get our teeth into. On her cue, a ninety year old geezer emerged from behind the screen with a proud grin on his face, knackers swinging round his ankles, and a very nasty looking rash on his todger.