One Tequila Read online

  Janelle sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, just tell me if I'll be okay if I leave Theo,” she said, annoyance lacing her voice.

  I read through the cards again and then closed my eyes. The cards were telling me that she shouldn't leave him. But I also could tell that she didn't want to hear that answer. In situations like this, I always deferred to the cards.

  “This particular layout is suggesting that you might be happier if you stay with Theo,” I said gently, and saw anger flash across Janelle's face.

  “You would say that,” she spit out, pushing back from the table.

  “Excuse me? I didn't pull the cards, you did,” I pointed out.

  “It's because you don't want me to go out with Cash,” Janelle spit at me, effectively causing me to shut up as I tried to register her words.

  “Cash?” I said stupidly, trying to understand where she was going with this.

  “Cash, the man with whom you have a date this evening. The man who cancelled plans with me to be with you.” Janelle leaned over, her hand gripping the purple velvet of my tablecloth so tightly that I feared she would rip the whole thing off. I placed my hands on the table, ready to catch my crystal ball if it went flying.

  “I have no idea what this has to do with Cash, but I suggest you get the hell out of my shop,” I said easily, meeting her eyes.

  “You think that just because you are some tattooed tart with big boobs that you can attract a man like Cash, but money talks, Althea. Cash will return to his like soon enough,” she said, a smirk crossing her face as she straightened, smoothing her dress with manicured hands.

  “I'm sorry, but aren't you currently married? Threaten me again and I'll be happy to tell Theo about this little conversation,” I said heatedly.

  A wave of fear hit me so badly that my stomach curdled and I gulped against the nausea that gripped me. A bright sheen of tears had jumped into Janelle's eyes and she'd brought her hand to her face.

  “You promised you wouldn't say anything,” she exclaimed.

  “Well, don't come in here attacking me,” I said, exasperated. “God, you think you can just walk all over everyone. Hasn't anyone taught you manners? Or kindness? Get out of my shop. What I do with Cash, or anyone else, is my own damn business. Oh, reading's free of charge,” I said scathingly as she stormed from my shop, the bells on the door tinkling way too cheerfully for the enraged woman that stalked beneath them.

  In seconds, Luna stepped into my room, a smudge stick lit in her hand, as she walked around the room banishing the bad energy.

  “What the hell was that about?” Luna whispered, darting a glance my way.

  “I have no idea. But it seems to me the Whittiers don't have the perfect life they are trying to make it out to be,” I said, shaking my head, trying to dispel that weird rush of fear that had hit me. Must have been because Mrs. Perfect didn't want to lose her status in this town. “She wants to leave him.”

  Luna stopped smudging and shot me a glance over her shoulder.

  “That's so strange to me. He's besotted with her.”

  “He is?” I said, wondering how Luna knew that. The only thing I had seen Theodore besotted with was his wallet.

  “He is. He lights up when she's around. And you should see him when he plays catch with his boy. I know you don't like Theodore, but he's not all bad.”

  “I guess…I just don't know that side of him,” I said, wondering how often Luna saw Theodore with his son.

  “I couldn't help but listen in…did Janelle say she had plans with Cash?” Luna asked, her perfectly arched eyebrow raised in concern.

  Biting my bottom lip, I nodded, unsure how to respond.

  “There has to be an explanation. Cash doesn't strike me as the type to try and date a married woman,” Luna said.

  “How do you know? We don't even know him,” I pointed out, cranky at the prospect that my super-hot date was turning out to be something that I shouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.

  “Nothing is as it seems,” Luna remarked, “and, I trust Beau. If he wants to work with Cash, then I have to think Cash is a good man,” she said, carrying her smudge stick with her to her shop. I sighed and smoothed my tablecloth back out, pulling out a different pack of tarot cards for my next client. I'd need to clear the energy from the first deck later. My bells chimed and I looked up and smiled.

  “Mrs. Matthews, so nice to see you,” I said.

  “Now, dear, I hear you can speak to our pets that have passed on.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hours later, I was kicked back with an iced tea and a chicken salad sandwich from Luca's Deli – I had to eat there while I still could – when I heard a customer come in to Luna's side of the store. A fluttery laugh reached me and I realized it was Luna's flirty laugh. I leaned a bit to peek my head around the screen.

  Miami club guy!

  I ducked my head back, knowing that Luna would want some privacy with him since she thought he was so cute, and turned up my music a bit more to cover their voices. Shaking my head, I began the process of clearing energy from the tarot deck that Janelle had used, idly wondering why Luna thought Miami club guy was so cute.

  He was too slick for me. His perfectly creased pants made me nervous. I'd never be able to date a guy that was more put together than me, I thought.

  So why was I going out with Cash? I asked myself as I shuffled the deck, allowing the negative energy to seep away from the cards.

  Because he's a dead ringer for Channing Tatum and I'm dying to see if he can dance like the guys in Magic Mike do, my baser self whispered to me and I snorted.

  Idly, I eyed my scrying ball and wondered if I really needed Luna's seeing spell to dip into the future. Since I had more power than her in that area, typically I just needed to get in my zone and ask my spirit guides for a little help with clearing the clouds from my vision. The foreboding had yet to leave my mind and I suspected that it wasn't going to leave until I did something about it. Not wanting to deal with Luna's temper if I went ahead and did the spell on my own, I sighed and pushed my scrying ball away. Turning my right arm up, I looked at the inside of my arm and wondered what tattoo I should add when a knock on my screen caused me to jump.

  “Ahem, yes?”

  Luna poked her head around the screen and smiled at me, her cheeks flush with a light pink color.

  “Renaldo would like to know if he could have a reading with you. I wasn't sure if you had blocked off time for walk-ins today,” she said, raising her eyebrows at me in question.

  “Renaldo?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her already familiar use of Miami club guy's name.

  “Erm, yes,” she said, smiling sheepishly at me.

  I sighed and pulled out a different stack of cards, waving at Luna in a go-ahead motion.

  Luna pushed the screen back and motioned for Renaldo to come into my room. I didn't rise to greet him, instead staying seated as I scanned him, giving him a healthy dose of warning in my look. I didn't trust him already, and here he was sniffing around my best friend.

  “Hello, so many thanks for you to meet with me,” Renaldo said, putting his hand out. Today he wore a white silk shirt that set off his tan skin. A glint of gold at his neck reminded me of the cross he wore. Sniffing, I looked at his trousers.

  Perfect pleats.

  I shook his hand, allowing my walls to go down so I could let impressions flood me. His dark brown eyes stayed on mine as I motioned for him to sit. Oddly, fear rose to the top of the emotions I was reading from him.

  Luna hovered at the door, looking anxiously between the both of us.

  “Thanks, Luna. We'll come out when we are done,” I said, smiling tightly at her. She jumped a little and then nodded, pulling the screen back and returning to the cool white of her room.

  “So, Renaldo, you're from Puerto Rico, yes?” I asked, having pulled that tid-bit from his mind, shuffling the cards as I eyed him.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he said automatically.

&
nbsp; I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

  “Call me Althea, please. Ma'am is for my mother.”

  “Althea, yes, I am from Puerto Rico.”

  “You're Catholic?” I asked, pointing to the cross at his neck.

  “Yes, I am Catholic.”

  “So why are you here then? Don't you go to church and ask for guidance?” I asked, knowing that the sarcasm was strong with me today. I don't know what it was about this guy, but he just rubbed me the wrong way.

  “Please, understand that God works in mysterious ways. You can find answers in many areas,” Renaldo said, shrugging his shoulders casually and dismissing centuries of judgment on my profession by the Catholic Church.

  “Okay then,” I said, deciding it wasn't the best time to get into an argument about this. I wasn't religious by any means, but I was spiritual to a fault. Perhaps it was because my gift gave me a greater peek into the unknown that so many people were seeking to understand and therefore I was quite solid on where I stood spiritually.

  “So, Renaldo, what are you in town for?” I asked as I put my deck of tarot cards down on the purple velvet in front of me.

  “I'm working with a group of investors and the City Council, like Mr. Whittier, on helping to develop a few properties,” he said simply.

  “And your role specifically is…?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “I was understood that the questions were for me to be asking,” he said, smiling lightly at me, his eyes hard with warning.

  “Okay then,” I said, pushing the cards across to him. “Shuffle the cards and then cut them in three stacks. Think of the question you want answered while you shuffle.”

  I watched Renaldo as he shuffled, reaching out again to get a read on him with my mind. A gray cloud of fear seemed to cling to his shoulders, and I couldn't get past it to see what was causing it. A glimpse of a seaplane came through, as well as a large barrel floating on the water. I had no idea what this could possibly mean and I snapped back to attention when he split the cards in front of me.

  “Your question?” I asked, lifting my eyes to meet his.

  He stared at me, his eyes dark with fear, as he whispered, “Should I stay on this job?”

  It wasn't an unusual question to ask a psychic; it was just that the fear in his eyes was creeping me out.

  I pulled cards from the middle pile, laying them out in a Celtic Cross formation again. As I turned each card over, dread began to form.

  I flipped over the last card, the outcome card, and my hand stilled on the face of it, trepidation lacing my spine, as I didn't want to lift my fingers and reveal the card to him.

  “Show me the card,” he whispered.

  I swallowed as I lifted my hand from the card, watching his face carefully.

  Death.

  The word etched beneath the depiction of a skeleton holding a black flag, riding a white horse, conveyed the message without me having to say it.

  Renaldo's eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself.

  “Now,” I said, raising my hand in caution, “the death card does not mean you will die. It can also signal ending a contract, time for a change, or moving on. My read of this card would be that, yes, it might be in your best interest to leave this job and return home,” I said, trying to soothe the waves of fear that I felt emanating from him.

  Liar, my brain whispered to me.

  And I knew it to be true, I thought. In my entire time reading tarot, I had never had the death card literally mean the death of a client that sat before me. And yet, I sat there, watching Renaldo, and knew that he was a dead man walking.

  I just didn't know why.

  “You're quite certain I should leave?” Renaldo asked again.

  I bit my tongue and nodded, not knowing what else to say.

  He nodded once and stood, reaching into his back pocket and dropping a couple of hundred-dollar bills on my table.

  “Wait, do you have any more questions? That's too much money for one question,” I protested.

  “Keep it. Thank you for being honest with me,” he said and nodded once more before ducking behind the screen.

  Guilt kicked up my spine as I looked down at the money. I hadn't been totally honest with him, had I? I'd told him to leave, hadn't I? But my instincts said that something with his job would cause his death. Straining my mind, I tried to see if there was a work-related accident I could warn him about – then I stilled, remembering my mother's words.

  Do not try to change someone's fate. Their choices have led them there.

  It wasn't always easy being a psychic. You were privy to people's hopes, their dreams, their sadness, their greed…the list went on and on. For the most part, my job was pretty cool, but readings like today's made me question whether I should hang it all up and only be an underwater photographer. I couldn't imagine how hard it was to be a doctor who had to deliver bad news. In retrospect, maybe my job wasn't as bad as theirs was. Thoughts swirled around my brain, tumbling on top of each other as anxiety kicked up my back.

  “He's cute, huh?”

  Luna's voice cut into my reprieve and I jerked my head up, pasting a smile on my face.

  “If you're into that type,” I said.

  “Well, I most certainly am. He asked me to dinner tonight, which means I've got to close up if I want to get ready,” Luna trilled as she ducked out of my room and I heard her walking around her shop, turning off lights. Dread filled my heart and I wanted to say something to her, to let her know not to get her hopes up, but I couldn't break confidentiality.

  Being a psychic sucked sometimes.

  Chapter Eight

  An hour later, I threw the ball while sitting on the back porch, and sipped a glass of wine to soothe my nerves. The reading with Renaldo was still on my mind and anxiousness about seeing Cash again kicked through my stomach.

  Hank barked at me.

  “Oh? I didn't toss the ball fast enough for you?” I said, leaning down to gingerly pick up the soggy ball, doing my best to keep my date-night outfit from getting dirty.

  I'd gone with red. Screaming, siren red that highlighted the duskiness of my skin tone and clashed nicely with my pink hair. The neck scooped low enough to entice, but not enough to proclaim that an invitation inside would happen after dinner. With cap sleeves and a peplum top, the dress highlighted the things that I wanted to show off and hid the parts that I preferred to be hidden. It was a win-win in my book. I'd left my curly hair to tumble down my back, clipping each side back with a comb. Large silver hoops and nude strappy sandals completed my outfit and I desperately hoped that I wasn't overdressed.

  A knock at the door sent Hank into a frenzy of barking and I almost dumped my wine down my lap.

  “Bring it down a notch,” I whispered to myself and stood up, smoothing my dress before walking through my kitchen, past where I had hastily prepared some appetizers, to the front door.

  “Hank, sit,” I said to the dog and he sat, his black-and-white body quivering with energy as he waited to see who was behind the door. Unlocking my deadbolt, I eased the door open to find Cash, dressed in linen pants and shirt, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers on my porch.

  I swear to all that is holy, this man is too good-looking to be for real, I thought as my mouth went dry.

  “Hi,” I said, easing the door open and immediately turning to Hank. “Hank, guest. Nice manners,” I ordered and Hank stood, pressing his nose into Cash's pants, a peculiar habit that Bostons have when they meet someone. Judging him not to be the enemy, Hank turned and raced across the room to find a toy to present to Cash.

  “That's Hank,” I said with a smile, opening the door wider. “Come in, please.”

  “Can I just say wow,” he said and I turned to look at the explosion of color that rocketed across my living room.

  “Oh, I know, there's a lot going on here,” I said, waving my hand at the walls before turning to look at him and realizi
ng that he wasn't looking at the walls.

  His eyes were trained on my dress.

  “Oh,” I said, breathing slowly.

  “You look wonderful,” Cash said and held out the flowers to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, hiding my smile in the petals as I sniffed the flowers, turning to walk towards the kitchen to find a vase. “Make yourself at home, I'm just going to find a vase. Do you prefer wine or beer?”

  “I'll take a beer if you have it,” he called, stopping to admire a blown-up print of a Queen angelfish that I had tucked over my couch.

  “Corona okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Hank had now brought three of his most favorite toys to Cash, dropping them at his feet and cocking his head, waiting for a response. I heard the ball bounce across the floor as I dug in the cupboard for my favorite cobalt blue vase for the sunflowers. Cash had picked up on the hint.

  After filling the vase with flowers, I paused to admire my work, trying not to mentally squeal over Cash having brought me flowers. I'd swoon later, in private, like the dignified woman that I am.

  “How very Van Gogh of you,” Cash said, gesturing to the flowers.

  I tilted my head at it and laughed, realizing that I had unintentionally recreated the famous painting.

  “Beer,” I said, handing the Corona to him and moving back to the fridge. “Lime?” I'd cut some earlier, thinking he would probably drink beer.

  “Sure, thanks. This is a great place,” Cash said.

  “Thanks, I love it. I know it's a little crazy, but it's just…me,” I said simply, snagging the tray of cheese and meats that I had prepared earlier.

  “Want to sit on the porch or too hot for you?”

  “Porch is fine; here, let me help,” Cash said, reaching for the tray, his arm brushing across mine and sending heat trailing up my body.

  Whoo, boy, did I need to calm down, I thought.

  We moved onto the porch and I clicked on the large plantation fans so they swirled lazily above us, moving the hot air and giving some reprieve to the stickiness. Hank panted on the grass, taking a break from ball chasing to cool down.