“Don’t I know it, sister,” he says, jostling his head back and forth, and snapping in mid-air in true, stereotypical fashion.
I shake my head, reaching for my Tarot card deck to pull today’s cards. I’m curious what messages I’ll receive today. Even if I can’t get any psychic impressions for myself, I’ve found the cards to be helpful in at least discovering trends.
“She in here?” a man’s voice filters in from the shop.
“Diana doesn’t take walk-ins without a referral,” Ren replies.
“I’m not a walk-in, I just need to talk to her for a minute,” the man says.
“Honey, don’t they all? Look, how about you tell me your—hey,” Ren says as the door to my reading room bursts all the way open.
“Diana,” Blake says, a bright smile beaming across his face.
“Blake,” I reply, setting my cards aside and standing up. “What are you doing here?”
Renaldo quirks an eyebrow and gives Blake the once-over from behind his back.
“Nice ass,” he mouths at me, pointing.
I widen my eyes, and shoo him with my hands. He, of course, closes the door only part-way so he can stand outside and eavesdrop.
Sighing to myself, I return my gaze to Blake.
“I feel like we got off to a rocky start,” Blake says, shoving aside my large amethyst cluster and rose quartz to place his perfect ass on the opposite side of my glass table.
“Oh, yeah?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I, uh—yeah, a little,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay,” I say, waiting.
“Granted, we did find Esther. I mean, what could be better than that? Overall, I’d say we made a pretty good team,” he grins, the hint of a dimple emerging beside the edges of his goatee.
My hand slides up over my face.
Christ, he has dimples. How did I not notice this before?
“Yeah, we did. Which is why I’d say our partnership has officially come to a close,” I mutter, shoving him off the desk. “So, pretty sure you can go on your merry little way and I’ll go on mine.”
“Well, see…there’s a problem,” he continues, “the perps—”
“Got away,” I finish for him.
“So, you’ve heard?” he says, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table instead of his ass.
I glance at his hands, then back to his face.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Well, aren’t you the least bit interested in helping get these guys behind bars? I mean, if your abilities are really a thing, you could be the one to crack this open quickly,” he says.
“Blake, you might be getting paid to go hunting for these guys, but the last time I checked, I wasn’t employed by the police department, or you, for that matter. I have a business to run, and clients I need to contend with. I can’t go on a wild goose chase just because you want to—what? Get the credit?” I say, sitting back down.
“Who the hell says I’m getting paid?” Blake says, his dark eyebrows coming together.
“Oh, I guess I assumed—”
“Your abilities are still off with me, I see,” he says, doing air quotes when he says the word, ‘abilities.’
It’s true, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m just throwing in the dark when it comes to my observations and assumptions.
“Well, that doesn’t change anything—” I say, swiping my hand in the air dismissively, “there are plenty of assholes like those guys out in the world. I can’t go hunting down every last one just because I have abilities beyond what others do. Besides, I don’t know if I could take dealing with it day after day.”
“Yeah, but if you could put just one of these bad guys away so they can’t hurt another kid, isn’t it worth it? I mean, sure—you have a point. There are lots of assholes out there. But they’re faceless assholes. These sick ones shot up my damn Rover and were taking part in child trafficking.”
I shudder.
“I’m sorry, Blake. The answer is no. So, perhaps it’s time for you to leave.”
He holds his ground, still hunching forward on my glass table.
“Okay, look. I respect your decision. I do. So, maybe we could, I dunno, go out for coffee or something instead?”
My eyes widen at the audacity. He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side from the moment he bumped into me on the street and he wants to go out for coffee?
“She’d looooove to,” Renaldo says from the doorway.
My eyes flash from Blake to the doorway. In the small crack of the doorway, Renaldo peers inside, tipping his right shoulder, and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“Butt the hell out, Ren,” I spit back.
“C’mon, Diana. It’s just coffee,” Blake reiterates. “I promise, no shop talk.”
Turning to Renaldo, I say through gritted teeth, “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”
I hold up my pointer finger, trying to decide whether or not to turn it into a fist. Instead, I press it against my lips. Hard.
Part of me—an annoying part—is sorta thrilled he’s asking me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice to look at. As stupid as it is, it’s been a while since I went out on a date. It’s damn hard to make a real connection with anyone when you can hear their every thought. The other part of me is too smart for my own good. Of course his request is meant to soften me up so I’ll eventually say yes to helping him track down the bad guys. C’mon.
The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. I mean, do I have dumbass stamped across my forehead or something?
I take a deep, cleansing breath, trying to center myself before I completely lose my shit.
Squaring off with Blake, nostrils flaring like a raging bull, I stare deeply into his eyes. I need him to understand I’m deadly serious and if he won’t listen to my words, perhaps he’ll get the freakin’ idea another way. I refuse to move my gaze, or even blink, until he squirms uncomfortably.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but as I said, our partnership is over,” I say in a low, controlled voice. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to find the door, I’d like to get back to work.”
“Honey, your next client isn’t due for another hour,” Renaldo chimes in from the other room.
“See?” Blake says, pointing and nodding at Ren. “Plenty of time for a quick cup.”
“Are you deaf and stupid? I’ve tried to be nice, but get the hell out,” I say, my voice elevated to the point of cracking.
Blake chuckles. It’s a deep, boisterous laugh bordering on infectious if the timing were right—which it definitely is not.
“What in the hell are you laughing at?” I spit.
“You. Anyone ever tell ya, you try too hard?” Blake says, smirking.
I snort, double-taking at the comment. After a moment, I shrug.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Try too hard at what?”
He leans in close, his dark eyes pulling my gaze into them, and the heat of his breath sending an odd chill through me. His cologne—the one more suited to him, and not whatever nonsense he used the day we met—wafts around us. It’s a heady aroma, and despite myself, my heart flutters traitorously.
“At being a hard ass. It’s all an act. You know it. I know it,” he whispers, tucking a strand of my pink bangs behind my ear. “The question I wanna know is, why are you so desperate to push people away?”
I swallow hard.
His touch, as simple a gesture as it is, stirs something I’d rather leave unstirred. Especially when he’s so close to hitting the nail on the head.
“It’s not complicated. People are stupid and rarely worth my time,” I say, making a face.
“Says the woman who spends her days helping people,” Blake fires back, still holding my gaze.
“I’ve said the same thing,” Renaldo calls from the store front.
I sigh, exasperated.
“Would you please, mind your own damn business?” I call to him.
“Are you kid
ding? Honey, this is better than daytime TV right now,” Ren calls back.
Blake licks his lower lip, a hint of a smile threatening to emerge.
“I’m asking you one final time…Please leave,” I say as nicely as I can without walking around my desk to knee him in the groin.
“Alright, alright, I’ll go,” he says, finally standing up straight and holding his hands in the air.
“Hallelujah,” I mutter under my breath.
“But I’ll be back,” he says, shooting me a grin. “I’ll get you to say yes.”
“Don’t friggin’ bet on it,” I snort.
“I don’t have to. I can already foresee it,” Blake says, as he turns around and saunters out.
My eyes shift to his backside as he walks past Renaldo, tipping his head in acknowledgement, and disappears through the front door without another word.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, regret unfurls from inside my stomach…stretching and making room for full-on panic.
He’s right. I don’t even need to use my own abilities to know he’ll eventually win if he’s persistent enough.
Dammit.
7
“DID YOU SEE THE ASS on that man?” Renaldo says, once the door swings shut. He fans himself furiously. “Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm.”
I bury my face in my hands.
The last time I allowed myself even a glimpse of an opening for a relationship it ended up in flames. We’re not talking little candle type flame, either. We’re talking apocalypse, end of the world kinda flames. It took me half a century to get over it.
“I mean, seriously,” he continues, “if I wasn't taken, I’d have coffee with him. Then drag him back to my place for some—”
I hold up a hand, “Please stop there.”
“Lord woman, your bits are gonna shrivel up and die from lack of use. What excuse could you possibly have to say no to that?”
“First of all, how shallow do you think I am? Great ass or not, I gotta have more than looks. Secondly, you've seen my track record, Ren. How long have we been working together now? Ten, twelve years? Relationships and me are unmixy things. Always have been, always will be,” I say, straightening the items on my table, and putting them back where they belong.
“First of all, it's been thirteen years, six months, and sixteen days. And honey, all the past relationships not working out are all meant to lead you to the path where it will,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“Seriously, you have to stop eavesdropping in on my sessions with clients,” I say.
“How else am I gonna get relationship advice?” he says, leaning on the door frame. “Besides, it’s good advice.”
“I know it is, which is why I use it. But I dunno, I'm different. Those rules don't apply to me,” I say, scratching my head. “I wish they did, though.”
Renaldo rolls his eyes, “Right, I forgot. ‘Ms. Diana, the one cursed to walk alone.’ Please,” he says, swiping a hand in the air. “You’re more melodramatic than I am.”
“No, it’s accurate.”
In all honesty, he has no idea. It’s been thirteen years—but he’s never, not once, asked why I look the same. Why I never seem to age. Why I tell everyone I’m in my twenties and have been the entire time we’ve been working together.
If I told any of them my real age—at least the age I know from when I started counting—they’d flip their ever-loving lids.
“If you ask me, you need to get your scrawny butt back into the world. Mr. Cute Ass might be just the ticket. Doesn’t have to be anything more than a date. I mean, you only gotta commit to a cup of coffee—not lifelong servitude,” he says.
“I totally didn’t ask you for your advice. So, how about we drop this and move on with the rest of the day?” I say, batting my eyelashes.
Ren’s eyes widen, and he holds his hands up, backing away.
The doorbell dings again as someone enters the shop.
“Whatever you say, Ms. Grumpy Pants,” he mutters as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Grabbing my coat, I walk out the back door to get some air. The small garden in the back is pretty minuscule, but the gorgeous flowers do wonders for lifting my spirits. The array of colors are pretty awesome, too. I love how my landlord Sebastian didn’t go with a single color choice, but instead opted for as many as he could stand. He’s a good guy.
Pacing the garden like a labyrinth, my mind circles the conversation with Blake.
Was I too hard on him? Should I have said yes? What would come of it? What’s the worst that could happen?
I cringe.
I know all too well the worst—I could become attached. Ultimately, that leads to having to let him go. Who in their right mind would want to be with someone who never ages and lives…well, as far as I know…forever?
It’s not often I think about my immortality anymore. It’s best left to the side, ignored. But it certainly pops up from time to time—days like this. If only I knew why…maybe then I’d be able to counteract it. Or understand it. But every time I try, the results are disastrous. Like, land people in the hospital, disastrous.
“Your next client is here. Want me to tell them you need a minute?” Ren asks, poking his head outside.
“No, why would you say that?”
“Because you’re doing that walking thing you do,” Ren says, circling his finger around.
“I’m thinking,” I say, heading back.
“Oh really?” he says, grinning. “Did something I say resonate?”
I shove him aside as I step in.
“Give me five minutes to prep, then send them in, would you?”
“Knew it,” he grins triumphantly.
“Just do it,” I say, spinning him around and pushing him out of the reading room.
My god, his ego would explode if I told him I actually was mulling it over.
Taking a few moments to center myself, I breathe deep and close my eyes. I inhale the scents of frankincense and myrrh, allowing them to transport me into a calmer mental space. One where I can be more present for my clients, and less focused on myself.
I flip the switch on my desk, signaling Renaldo I’m ready. I dim the lights and relight the candles around the room. After a couple of moments, a small, meager man walks in. His timid stature is immediately disarming, but he’s hiding something—or trying to conceal it, anyway. His name is Lenny and he steals from his boss. He then uses the money to go to the strip club on Fridays.
“Please, have a seat,” I say, pointing to the chair opposite my reading table.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, grabbing the chair and taking a seat.
I take my position opposite him, quietly setting out the table before use. I place my Tarot to one side, a couple of crystals to the other. His eyes widen, but he says nothing.
“There’s a lot we need to cover,” I begin, “so I’m going to get straight to it. I wouldn’t worry so much about your boss and instead, start worrying about the coworker who’s been watching you.”
Lenny’s eyes widen, and he bites the side of his cheek.
“But that’s not why you’re really here,” I say, staring deeply into his green eyes. They’d be pretty if he weren’t so mousy looking and unkept. His dishwater blonde hair has been over-combed across the top of his head, and his outfit is disheveled. Almost as if he’d been roughed up in the parking lot—but I already know it’s because he doesn’t pay attention to such things. The concept of dressing nicely is pretty much lost on him. It’s part of why his addiction continues to circle around.
Lenny shakes his head.
“No, I—er—I don’t know what to do. It’s sorta been a—”
A man with short, curly red hair flashes into my mind. His smile is infectious—as is his boisterous laugh. There’s something special about the man, and Lenny knows it. That’s why he’s fallen in love with him.
“Oh, right,” I say, nodding.
Doesn’t happen often in this small town, but with R
en in my circle, it happens more than you might think.
“So you’re wondering if he’s noticed you, too?” I say.
Lenny’s green eyes go as round as saucers, but he bites his lip and nods.
Part of him is ashamed. He doesn’t understand how the feelings were aroused for this man—he’s always been heterosexual, or at least he thought he was. But now—it’s thrown everything he’s known into chaos. He can’t sleep; he’s tied up in knots as he tries to reconcile his feelings.
“The first thing I need you to do is find someone safe you can talk to. Being attracted to another man—there’s nothing wrong with it and I’m guessing you have years of programming you’ll need to unlearn before those knots in your stomach unclench. Do you have anyone you could turn to?” I ask.
“D-do you count?” he asks, making a face.
I shake my head, “No, and yes. I mean you need to get into depth with someone. Perhaps a therapist to help you work through your feelings. This anxiety isn’t doing you any good.”
“But, how do I get him to notice me? Or—how would I even know if he’s interested?” he asks, his voice reduced to a hushed whisper.
“You’ll know, Lenny. Trust me,” I say holding out my hands, palm side up.
He reaches out tentatively, placing his hands in mine. I close my eyes, trying to get a better feel for the orange-haired man. He’s about the same age as Lenny, but much more outgoing. He’s spent time with Lenny—yet the situations are odd. Like it’s a weird cross between a work relationship and something more. There’s a definite energy pull, but the other man’s confused, too. He’s not sure whether or not to try to reach out to Lenny. He’s noticed how he’s gone downhill lately, and it’s concerning him. He—Andrew—his name is Andrew—he doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to Lenny.
“I’m not sure where his feelings are for you right now, but he certainly knows you exist. I’m picking up on a lot of platonic love and friendship, but at the present time, that’s all,” I say, opening my eyes.
Lenny smiles, tears on the verge of welling over.
“He knows I exist?”
“Yes, he really does,” I say nodding.
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