“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 I’m right there.
“And who’s 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 you’ve helped hundreds of people and asked very little in exchange. And yet, despite all of that, you’re also a guy who’s so—” I look at him, lips lifting at the corners. “Well I was going to say lazy—but since I really do want this job I’ll say laid-back instead.” I laugh, relieved when he laughs along with me. “And given the choice you’d never work another day. You’d 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, it’s 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 you’ve peered right into the core of my soul—I have to ask, any insights into my future—a certain blonde perhaps?”
I shift in my seat, preparing to speak when he cuts me right off.
“And I’m 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 it’s some other horrible Stacia and not the one I know.
Tuning in to the energy surrounding her name and knowing right away that it’s never gonna happen—at 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, wouldn’t you rather just wait and see how it plays?” I look at him, hoping he’ll agree.
“Is that what you’re going to say to your clients?” he asks, back to business again.
I shake my head, looking right at him. “Hey, if they’re fool enough to ask, then I’m fool enough to tell.” I smile. “So I guess the question is, how big of a fool are you?”
He pauses, hesitates for so long that I worry that I took it too far. But then he smiles, right hand extended as he rises from his seat. “Fool enough to hire you. Now I know why you wouldn’t shake hands the first time around.” He nods, squeezing my hand for a few seconds too long. “That’s one of the most amazing readings I’ve ever had.”
“One of?” I lift my brow in mock offense as I reach for my bag and walk alongside him.
He laughs, heading for the door and glancing at me when he says, “Why don’t you stop by tomorrow morning, say around ten?”
I pause, knowing there’s no way I can possibly do that.
“What? You prefer to sleep in? Join the club.” He shrugs. “But believe me, if I can do it, you can too.”
“It’s not that.” I pause, wondering why I’m so reluctant to tell him. I mean, now that I’ve got the job what do I care what he thinks?
He looks at me, waiting, gaze adding up the seconds.
“It’s just—I have class.” I shrug, thinking how class sounds so much older than school, like I’m in college or something.
He squints, looking me over again. “Where?”
“Um, over at Bay View,” I mumble, trying not to wince when I say it out loud.
“The high school?” His eyes narrow further, newly informed.
“Wow, you really are psychic.” I laugh, knowing I sound nervous, stupid, coming clean when I add, “I’m finishing up my junior year.”
He looks at me for a moment—too long a moment—then he turns and opens the door. “You seem older,” he says, the words so abstract I’m not sure if they were meant for me or for him. “Stop by when you can. I’ll show you how to work the register and a few other things around here.”
“You want me to sell stuff? I thought I was just giving readings?” Surprised to hear my job description expanding so quickly.
“When you’re not giving readings you’ll be working the floor. Is that a problem?”
I shake my head as he holds the door open. “Just—just one thing.” I bite down on my lip, unsure how to proceed. “Well, two things actually. First—do you mind if I go by a different name—you know, for the readings and stuff? I live with my aunt, and while she’s totally cool and all, she doesn’t exactly know about my abilities, so—”
“Be whoever you want.” He shrugs. “No worries. But since I need to start booking appointments, who do you want to be?”
I pause, not having thought this through until now. Wondering if I should choose Rachel after my best friend in Oregon, or something even more common like Anne or Jenny or something like that. But knowing how people always expect psychics to be about as far from normal as it gets, I gaze toward the beach and choose the third thing I see, bypassing Tree and Basketball Court as I say, “Avalon.” Immediately liking the sound of it. “You know, like the town on Catalina Island?”
He nods, following me outside as he asks, “And the second thing?”
I turn, taking a deep breath and hoping he’ll listen when I say, “You can do better than Stacia.”
He looks at me, gaze moving over my face, clearly resigned to the truth if not exactly thrilled to hear it from me.
“You have a serious history of falling for all the wrong girls.” I shake my head. “You do know that, right?”
I wait for a response, some recognition of what I just said, but he just shrugs and waves me away. Still watching as I head for my car, having no idea I can hear him when he thinks: Don’t I know it.
CHAPTER 16
The moment I pull into the drive Sabine calls my cell, telling me to just go ahead and order a pizza for dinner since she has to work late. And even though I’m tempted to tell her about my new job, I don’t. I mean, obviously I need to inform her, if for no other reason than to spare me the one she’s lined up, but still, there’s no way I can admit to getting this particular job. She’ll think it’s weird. Even if I omit all the stuff about getting paid to give readings (and believe me, I’d never dream of mentioning that) she’ll still think a job at a metaphysical bookstore is strange. Maybe even silly. Who knows?
Sabine’s far too reasonable and rational to ever get behind such a thing. Preferring to live in a world that’s sturdy and solid, that makes perfect sense, versus the real one that is anything but. And while I hate always having to lie to her, I really don’t see how I have much of a choice. There’s just no way she can ever learn the truth about me, let alone that I’ll be giving readings under the code name of Avalon.
I’ll just tell her I got a job somewhere local, someplace normal, like a regular bookstore, or a Starbucks perhaps. And then of course I’ll have to find a way to back the story up in case she decides to follow up on all that.
I park in the garage and head up the stairs, tossing my bag onto my bed without even looking, then heading for my closet as I yank off my tee. Just about to unzip my jeans when Damen says, “Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here enjoying the view.” I cover my chest with my arms, heart beating triple time as Damen lets out a low, sweet whistle and smiles at me.
“I didn’t even see you. I didn’t even sense you for that matter,” I say, reaching for my tee again.
“Guess you were too distracted.” He smiles, patting the space right beside him, face creasing with laughter when I pull on my shirt before joining him.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, not really interested in the answer, just glad to be near him again.
“I figured since Sabine’s working late—”
“How’d you—” But then I shake my head and laugh. Of course he knows. He can read everyone’s mind, including mine, but only when I want him to. And even though I usually leave my shield down, making my thoughts accessible for him to view, right now I just can’t. I feel like I need to explain, tell my side of the story, before he can peek in my head and draw his own conclusions.
“And since you didn’t come by after school—” He leans toward me, eyes seeking mine.
“I wanted to give you some time with the twins.” I pull a pillow onto my belly and finger the seam. “You know, so you could get used to being together and—stuff—” I shrug, meeting his gaze, knowing he’s not buying it, not for a second.