So, a friend of Linas, huh? He moves toward the register, dropping his towel on the counter in a wet, sandy thud. Never heard her mention you before.
Well, we werent exactly friends. I shrug, hoping it didnt look as awkward as it felt. I mean, I met her once and she helped me withwait, why did you just phrase it like that? You know, all past tense. Is Lina okay?
He nods, perching on a stool, grabbing a purple cardboard box from a drawer and flipping through a bunch of receipts. Shes on one of her annual retreats. Picks a different one each year. This time its Mexico. Trying to determine if the Mayans were right and the world will end in 2012. Whats your take?
He looks at me, green eyes curious, insistent, boring right into mine. But I just scratch my arm and shrug, never having heard that particular theory before and wondering if it applies to Damen and me. Is that when well head for the Shadowland, or will we be forced to wander a barren Earththe last two survivors responsible for repopulating the landonlyirony alertif we touch, Damen dies
I shake my head, eager to escape that particular thread before it can really take hold and mess with my head. Besides, Im here for a reason and I need to stick with the plan.
So how do you know her? If you werent exactly friends.
I met her through Ava, I say, hating the feel of her name on my lips.
He rolls his eyes, mumbling something unintelligible and shaking his head.
So you know her? I look at him, allowing my gaze to travel his face, his neck, his shoulders, his smooth tanned chest, making my way down to his navel, before forcing myself to look away again.
Yeah, I know her. He pushes the box aside, gaze meeting mine. Just up and disappeared the other dayinto thin air from what I can tell
Oh, you dont know the half of it, I think, carefully watching his face.
called her house, her cell, but nothing. Finally did a drive-by to make sure she was okay and the lights were on so its clear shes been dodging me. He shakes his head. Left me with a bunch of angry clients, demanding a reading. Who wouldve thought shed turn out to be such a flake?
Yes, who wouldve thought? Certainly not the person who was foolish enough to place her deepest darkest secrets right into her greedy, outstretched, hands . . .
Still havent found anyone good enough to replace her though. And let me tell ya, its pretty much impossible to give readings and take care of the store. Thats why I stepped out just now. He shrugs. Surf was calling and I needed a break. Guess I left the door open again.
His eyes meet mine, sparkling and deep. And I cant tell if he truly believes he left the door open, or if he suspects me. But when I try to peer into his head to see for myself Im stopped by the wall hes erected to safeguard his thoughts from people like me. All I have to go by is the brilliant purple aura I failed to see beforeits color waving and shimmering, beckoning to me.
So far all I got are a stack of applications from amateurs. But Im so desperate to get my weekends back, Im ready to toss their names in a bowl and pick one just to get it over with. He shakes his head and flashes those dimples again.
And even though part of me cant believe what Im about to do, the other part, the more practical part, urges me on, recognizing the perfect opportunity when its standing before me.
Maybe I can help. I hold my breath as I wait for his reply. But when my only response is a set of narrowed lids accompanied by the slightest curling of lips, I add, Seriously. You dont even have to pay me!
He squints even further, those amazing green eyes practically disappearing from sight.
What I meant was you dont have to pay me all that much, I say, not wanting to come off as some weird desperate freak who gives it away for free. Ill work for just over minimum wagebut only because Im so good Ill be living off the tips.
Youre psychic? He folds his arms and tilts his head back, gazing at me with complete disbelief.
I straighten my posture and try not to fidget. Hoping to appear professional, mature, someone he can trust to help run his store. Yup. I nod, unable to keep from wincing, unused to confiding my abilities to anyone, much less a stranger. I just sort of know thingsinformation just sort of comes to meits hard to explain.
He looks at me, wavering, then focusing just to my right as he says, So what exactly are you then?
I shrug, fingers playing with the zipper on my hoodie, drawing it up and down, down and up, having no idea what he means.
Are you clairaudient, clairvoyant, clairsentient, clairgustance, clairscent, or clairtangency? Which is it? He shrugs.
All of the above. I nod, having no idea what half those things mean, but figuring if its got anything even remotely to do with psychic abilities, then I can probably do it.
But youre not mediumistic, he says, as though its a fact.
I can see spirits. I shrug. But only the ones that are still here, not the ones whove crossed I stop, pretending to clear my throat, knowing its better not to mention the bridge, Summerland, or any of that. I cant see the ones whove crossed over. I shrug, hoping he doesnt try to push it since thats as far as Ill go.
He squints, gaze roaming from the top of my pale blond head and all the way down to my Nike clad feet. A gaze that makes my whole body quiver. Reaching for a long-sleeved tee stashed under the counter and yanking it over his head before he looks at me and says, Well, Ever, if you wanna work here, youre gonna have to pass the audition.
CHAPTER 15
Jude locks the front door then leads me down a short hall and into a small room on the right. I follow behind, hands flexed by my sides, staring at the peace sign on the back of his tee and reminding myself that if he does anything creepy I can take him down quickly and make him regret the day he ever went after me.
He motions toward a padded foldable chair facing a small square table covered by shiny blue cloth, taking the seat just opposite me and propping his bare foot on his knee as he says, So, whats your specialty?
I gaze at him, hands folded, focusing on taking slow deep breaths while trying not to squirm.
Tarot cards? Runes? I Ching? Psychometry? Which is it?
I glance at the door, knowing I could reach it in a fraction of a second, which might cause a stir, but so what?
You are going to give me a reading, right? His gaze levels on mine. You do realize thats what I meant by audition? He laughs, displaying a matching set of dimples as he swings his dreads over his shoulder and laughs some more.
I stare at the tablecloth, tracing the bumpy raw silk with my fingers, heat rising to my cheeks when I remember Damens last words, how he can always sense me, and hoping he was just saying thatthat he cant sense me now.
I dont need anything, I mumble, still unwilling to meet his gaze. All I need is a quick touch of your hand and Im good to go.
Palmistry. He nods. Not what I wouldve expected, but okay. He leans toward me, hands open, palms up, ready to go.
I swallow hard, seeing the deeply etched lines, but thats not where the story livesat least not for me. I dont actually read em, I say, voice betraying my nervousness, as I work up the courage to touch him. Its more thethe energyI justtune into it. Thats where all the info is.
He pulls back, studying me so closely I cant meet his eyes. Knowing I need to just touch him, get it over with. And I need to do it now.
Is it just the hand, or? He flexes his fingers, the calluses lining his palms rising and falling again.
I clear my throat, wondering why Im so nervous, why I feel like Im betraying Damen, when all Im trying to do is land a job thatll make my aunt happy. No, it can be anywhere. Your ear, your nose, even your big toedoesnt matter, it all reads the same. The hands just more accessible, you know?
More accessible than the big toe? He smiles, those sea green eyes seeking mine.
I take a deep breath, thinking how coarse and rough his hands appear, especially compared to Damens whose are almost softer than mine. And somehow, even just the thought of that makes this whole moment feel off. Now that our touch is forbidden, just being alone with another guy feels sordid, illicit, wrong.
I reach toward him, eyes shut tight, reminding myself its just a job interviewthat theres really no reason I cant land this thing quickly and painlessly. Pressing my finger to the center of his palm and feeling the soft, gentle give of his flesh. Allowing his stream of energy to flow through meso peaceful, serene, its like wading into the calmest of seas. So different from the rush of tingle and heat Ive grown used to with Damenat least until the shock of Judes life story unfolds.
I yank my hand back as though Ive been stung, fumbling for the amulet just under my top, noting the alarm on his face as I rush to explain. Im sorry. I shake my head, angry with myself for overreacting. Normally I wouldnt do that. Normally Im way more discreet. I was just a littlesurprisedthats all. I didnt expect to see anything quite so I stop, knowing my inane babbling is only making it worse. Normally, when I give readings, I hide my reactions much better than that. I nod, forcing my gaze to meet his, knowing whatever I say wont hide the fact that I choked like the worst kind of amateur. Seriously. I smile, lips stretching in a way that cant be convincing. Im like the ultimate poker face. Peering at him again and seeing this isnt quite working. A poker face that is also full of empathy and compassion, I stammer, unable to stop this runaway train. I mean, reallyIm justfull of it I cringe, shaking my head as I gather my things so I can call it a day. Theres no way hell hire me now.
He slides to the edge of his seat, leaning so close I struggle to breathe. So tell me, he says, gaze like a hand on my wrist, holding me in place. What exactly did you see?
I swallow hard, closing my eyes for a moment and replaying the movie I just saw in my head. The images so clear, dancing before me, as I say, Youre different. I peer at him, his body unmoving, gaze steady, allowing no clues as to whether or not Im on track.
But then, youve always been different. Ever since you were little youve seen them. I swallow hard and avert my gaze, the image of him in his crib, smiling and waving at the grandmother who passed years before his birth now etched on my brain. And when I pause, not wanting to say it, but knowing that if I want the job, then Id better get to it. But when your fathershot himselfback when you were tenyou thought you were to blame. Convinced your insistence on seeing your mother, who, by the way passed just one year before, somehow sent him over the edge. It was years before you accepted the truth, that your father was just lonely, depressed, and anxious to be with your mother again. Even so, sometimes you still doubt it.
I gaze at him, noting how he hasnt so much as flinched, though something in those deep green eyes hints at the truth.
He tried to visit a few times. Wanting to apologize for what he did, but even though you sensed him, you blocked it. Sick of being teased by your classmates and scolded by the nunsnot to mention your foster dad who I shake my head, not wanting to continue, but knowing I must. You just wanted to be normal. I shrug. Treated like everyone else. I trace my fingers over the tablecloth, throat beginning to tighten, knowing exactly how it feels to long to fit in, all the while knowing you never truly can. But after you ran away and met Lina, who, by the way, is not your real grandmotheryour real grandparents are dead. I look at him again, wondering if hes surprised that I knew that but he gives nothing away. Anyway, she took you in, fed you, clothed you, she
She saved my life. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, long tanned fingers rubbing at his eyes. In more ways than one. I was so lost and she
Accepted you for who you really are. I nod, seeing the whole story before me, as though Im right there.
And whos that? he asks, hands splayed on his knees, gazing at me. Who am I really?
I look at him, not even pausing when I say, A guy so smart you finished high school in tenth grade. A guy with such amazing mediumistic abilities youve helped hundreds of people and asked very little in exchange. And yet, despite all of that, youre also a guy whos so I look at him, lips lifting at the corners. Well I was going to say lazybut since I really do want this job Ill say laid-back instead. I laugh, relieved when he laughs along with me. And given the choice youd never work another day. Youd spend the rest of eternity just searching for that one perfect wave.
Is that a metaphor? he asks, a crooked smile on his face.
Not in your case. I shrug. In your case, its a fact.
He nods, leaning back in his chair, gazing at me in a way that makes my stomach dance. Dropping forward again, feet flat on the floor when he says, Guilty. Eyes wistful, searching mine. And now, since there are no secrets left, since youve peered right into the core of my soulI have to ask, any insights into my futurea certain blonde perhaps?
I shift in my seat, preparing to speak when he cuts me right off.
And Im talking the immediate future, as in this Friday night. Will Stacia ever agree to go out with me?
Stacia? My voice cracks as my eyes practically pop out of my head. So much for the poker face I was bragging about.
Watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, those long, golden dreadlocks contrasting so nicely with his gorgeous dark skin. Anastasia Pappas, aka Stacia, he says, unaware of my sigh of relief, thrilled to know its some other horrible Stacia and not the one I know.
Tuning in to the energy surrounding her name and knowing right away that its never gonna happenat least not in the way that he thinks. You really want to know? I ask, knowing I could save him a lot of wasted effort by telling him now, but doubting he really wants to hear the truth as much as he claims. I mean, wouldnt you rather just wait and see how it plays? I look at him, hoping hell agree.
Is that what youre going to say to your clients? he asks, back to business again.