Mind Reader
KIRSTY MCMANUS
Copyright © 2019 Kirsty McManus
All rights reserved.
For two Peters:
- the one who got me started all those years ago
- and the one who recently reminded me what good storytelling is
THANKS TO…
A huge thank you to Brooke, for your awesome feedback, and for always being available to talk to.
Thank you, Lindsay, for being a great editor and giving me exactly what
I need.
Thank you, Vikkie, for being the sweetest reader ever!
Thank you as always to Diane, for being so supportive and amazing—and for letting me stay with you when I visited the States this year!
Thank you also to Sofie, for being such a great author buddy. And this is the first time I can say how excited I am that you’re finally part of the industry—and you’re already doing fantastically!
A quick thank you to Louise, Natasha, Sharon, Tracy and Sarah, for the great writing conversations I’ve had with you over the past few years. You have all inspired me in different ways.
And finally, thank you, Kesh. You continue to let me ramble about my books and plots and never tell me to shut up. ;)
ONE
Kellan
I can have anyone I want. Some might say that’s boring—I mean, what’s the point of pursuing a conquest if you already know the outcome? But I think it saves time. I’ve never been one for foreplay; I want to get straight to business. Life would be so much easier if we were all honest about what we really wanted.
“Kellan?”
I look up and smile. “Yes?” A gorgeous redhead stands in front of me, dressed in a tight-fitting gold dress and spiky six-inch heels.
We’re at Heaven Sent, my favourite night club in the Valley. Everyone knows I can be found here on Fridays and Saturdays. I even have my own VIP booth. Roxy, the owner, likes that I bring in a steady stream of big spenders.
“I’ve heard you…uh…” She trails off, suddenly shy. I often have that effect on people. Even guys. Modern society doesn’t seem to appreciate a direct gaze.
“That I…?” I know what she’s going to say, but one of the perks of the job is being able to see my clients squirm.
She takes a deep breath, about to make her request, and then changes her mind. “Don’t worry. I’m not sure I actually…”
I chuckle. “No problem. I can tell you don’t want it bad enough.”
She pauses, her eyebrows creasing in annoyance. “You don’t know me. How can you possibly make that assumption?”
“I know your type. Too scared to ask for what you want. Even if it means missing out on your happily ever after.”
“I already have my happily ever after!” she snaps. “And I’ve just realised that this whole thing you’ve got going on,” she waves her hand in a circle in my direction, “is ridiculous.”
I raise an amused eyebrow. “Really? I’m ridiculous? Do you want to try telling that to the hundreds of satisfied customers who have come before you?”
She hesitates before sitting down next to me. “Okay, yes, I know your reputation. But it’s crazy, isn’t it? You can’t possibly do what everyone says you do?”
I throw back my head and laugh. “Well, I haven’t heard that one before.”
“What’s your angle? How do you fool everyone?”
I focus on her, staring right into her soul. “You’re a journalist, aren’t you?”
She reddens. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
She opens her mouth to argue again and then lets out a huff. “Okay, yes, I’m a journalist. I write for YZ magazine.”
“Ah. And what had you hoped to do? Expose me? Do you think you’ll have more luck than everyone else who’s tried to do the same?”
“I don’t know. I guess I hoped I’d figure you out just by meeting you. But you’re not exactly what I expected.”
“I hear that often. But I never get tired of learning what people do expect.”
She studies me for a minute. “I guess you’re not as sleazy as I pictured.”
I run my fingertips lightly over her arm, observing the goosebumps that raise in their wake. “Oh, I can be sleazy. But always respectful.”
She seems caught off guard. “Uh, well, would you object to a regular interview? I can do a feature article on Kellan Gallo: regular nice guy.”
I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Regular nice guy?”
“Well, whatever you want the public to know about you.”
“No, thanks. There’s nothing new to tell.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
A passing waitress walks by, so I stand and grab two glasses of champagne, handing the woman one and taking a sip from the other. “How about we pretend you actually are one of my clients, and you can report on that? Stick with your original plan?”
“But you know who I am, so it won’t be authentic. Also, I don’t need your services.”
“Really? You do already have your happily ever after?”
She takes a sip of champagne to delay answering. “If you must know, yes.”
“So, who is this guy?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not discussing my personal life with you.”
“But isn’t that the whole point? What were you going to use as a cover story if I didn’t figure out who you were immediately?”
She pauses. “I was going to pretend to be my friend, Amber. She’s a hopeless romantic.”
“And what might your name be?”
“It’s…Keira.”
“Well, you know, Keira, if you had followed through with your little charade and pretended to be Amber, you might have discovered something unpleasant about your current relationship.”
She snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
“How far would you have let me go? Were you prepared to see it through to the end?”
She blushes again. “I…I’m not sure. I don’t know what your process is.”
“Then how did you expect to write a proper article on me?”
She crosses her arms defensively. “I don’t know, all right? To tell you the truth, I’m dating a guy at my office, but workplace relationships are frowned upon, so we have to keep it secret. My boss is batshit crazy and ordered me to write about you. I couldn’t refuse without making her suspicious.”
“Why didn’t you just say you were dating someone else?”
“I’m terrible at lying. She would have known.”
“I can definitely agree that you’re terrible at lying. But you know what? I like you, so I’m going to help you out.”
She looks at me sceptically. “How?”
“I’ll do my thing. For free, even. But you must know that if you go ahead with it, there’s a chance you might not like what I discover.”
“Considering that I think what you do is a gimmick, I’m willing to take the risk.”
“I’m telling you now, it’s not a gimmick. But you probably deserve the truth, regardless.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
I down the rest of my glass and wave a hand towards the door. “Shall we?”
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I’m not going to be able to concentrate with all this noise around.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not taking you to some secluded hotel room to have my way with you.”
She’s about to protest, but I cut her off. “I know that’s what you were thinking, so don’t deny it. But I assure you, having you uncomfortable for this next bit will only make my job harder.”
“Okay.”
We walk outside, and I point to the strip club next door. Keira laughs
. “You think taking me to a strip club will relax me and convince me that you don’t want to have sex?”
“Hey, any sex I have on the job is never initiated by me. But to answer the other part of your question, yes, where we’re going should relax you. I may have a private booth at the nightclub, but I have an entire private soundproof room here.”
“Uh, yeah. That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“Trust me. There’s security everywhere, along with surveillance where it matters. This protects both of us.”
She hesitates at the entry to the club before nodding. “All right. I’ll bite.”
“Excellent. Follow me, please. But also, I’d appreciate if you refrain from using your teeth until after we’re finished.”
We go inside, and I nod at Jake, the bartender, and Will, one of the security guards. Will waves us through to my room in the back. I’ve had it set up with two red velvet armchairs facing each other.
“Take a seat,” I instruct.
“Have these been sanitised?” she asks, eyeing them apprehensively.
“Yes. This club has an immaculate reputation. I promise you won’t contract an STD from the furniture.”
She cautiously perches on the edge of one chair, and I sit opposite. I reach out and hold both her hands. She quickly yanks them out of my grasp.
“Sweetheart, this doesn’t work unless we have some form of physical contact.”
She narrows her eyes. “I feel like I’m being played here.”
“You are not being played. Although, there’s a distinct possibility that you will soon wish you were.”
She looks at me for another second before reluctantly holding out her hands again. I take them, wrapping my fingers around hers.
“Now, please, just relax. Take a few deep breaths. I’ll get an answer either way, but it will be quicker if your mind is open.”
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. I do the same.
It takes a few moments, but then a vague image materialises in my brain. As it becomes clearer, I make out a douchey-looking guy with dark hair swept back, à la Season One Harvey Specter on Suits. He’s wearing a very loud Hawaiian shirt and baggy chinos. I note the almost-black eyes, the narrow nose, and the mole near his right ear.
I open my eyes. “What does your current boyfriend look like?”
Her eyes snap open suspiciously. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering if who I’m seeing is who you’re currently seeing.”
“Is this what you do with everyone? Ask them to describe their partner and then just agree that that’s who you saw?”
“Of course not. And just so you know, most of my clients are single when they come to me. The only ones who aren’t usually already know that the guy they’re enquiring about isn’t ‘the one’ and just need a little push to end things.”
“Really? So you don’t get anyone who is happily settled and just wanting to confirm their current status?”
“Surprisingly, only very rarely. But you might be one of them. Does your boyfriend look like a poor man’s Adam Scott?”
“Adam Sco… oh! The actor who plays Reese’s husband in Big Little Lies! Actually, he does resemble him a bit. I never thought about that before.” She seems both unsettled and pleased by this.
“And he has a mole about here?” I point to just below her right ear.
Her eyes widen. “How did you know that?”
“Lucky for you, I had a vision of your current partner, which means you are indeed living your happily ever after. He’s your one. Your lobster, if you will.”
She looks down and notices she’s still holding my hands. She pulls them away, a little less aggressively than before, and tilts her head to the side. “This thing you do, it’s real, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s real. I wouldn’t have been in business this long if it weren’t.”
She stands up abruptly. “I have to go.”
I watch her leave and smile, bemused.
I wonder if that means I’m no longer going to be printed in YZ magazine.
It’s okay. I don’t need the additional publicity.
My life is ticking along quite nicely in its current state, thank you very much.
TWO
Beatrix
“Oh my God. Can you believe this crap?” I thrust the magazine at Charlie. “This guy reckons he can predict anyone’s soulmate. That journalist should be ashamed of herself for writing lies like that.”
Charlie peers out from under her headful of foils and glances at the article. “Is that Kellan Gallo?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, everyone has, babe. Where have you been for the last five years?”
“And what? He gets away with ripping off poor gullible people?”
“Apparently, he’s really good at what he does. Jenny told me her neighbour went to him, and he was spot on.”
“Who’s Jenny?”
“The woman who grooms Pixie.”
I look at her doubtfully. “So, you believe some random that’s vaguely related to your dog groomer?”
“Hey, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t say I believed anything. But there must be something to what he does if he’s been around so long.”
“Yeah, but there are tons of famous psychics and mediums who get lucky once in a blue moon, and then everyone thinks they’re legit after that, even if their failure rate is the same as what you or I would achieve.”
“I don’t know, Bea. I think you should be a little more open-minded.”
“Hey, I’m open-minded. As long as the subject is grounded in science.”
I take one last look at the charming Kellan Gallo, with his Rob Pattinson-esque features and that arrogant smile, and slam down the magazine. I hate fakes, and Kellan Gallo is clearly one.
A buzzer sounds and my stylist comes to check how the colour is processing in my hair.
“Five more minutes,” she says cheerily before leaving us alone again.
Charlie and I are going to a cocktail evening in a couple of hours and needed to get our roots touched up beforehand. We’re both sales managers for a stem cell company called StemWide, with Charlie looking after the Australian east coast and New Zealand, and me looking after the west coast and Singapore. We got our quarterly figures this week and we exceeded our targets, so the cocktail thing is a little celebration for our teams.
I’m surprised Charlie isn’t as scathing towards Kellan as I am. We both come from scientific backgrounds, but where I carry my critical thinking skills into every aspect of my life, Charlie seems to limit hers to work. She’s always falling for fad diets, wild conspiracy theories, and astrology. I really don’t know how she can reconcile all that stuff with what she knows to be the truth.
As if she can hear what I’m thinking, she pipes up, “Ooh, do you want your horoscope? The ones in YZ are always really accurate.”
I snort. “Yeah, because if there was such a thing as a genuine astrologer, they’d seek employment at a cheesy pop culture magazine featuring articles on Elvis sightings and Brad and Jen’s reconciliation.”
“But listen to yours! It says you need to look somewhere new for love and that you’re in a rut. Apparently, if you try something different, you’ll have a breakthrough.”
I shrug. “That could apply to almost anyone. Besides, I’m not looking for love.”
“What? At all?”
“No. Haven’t you ever heard of the notion that as soon as you stop looking for something, you’ll find it?”
“I’m confused. You’re saying you are interested in love?”
“I’m not saying anything. I’m just letting life flow the way it wants to. There’s no use forcing it, and I’m certainly not going to mix up my perfectly good routine in a lame attempt to find my ‘soulmate.’”
“You know what? I wouldn’t mind seeing Kellan Gallo myself. I’d love to know who I’ll end up with.”
“Would you really, though? Doesn’t that take all
the fun out of it? And what if he got it wrong? Then you’d be looking for some specific person that didn’t exist, and you might miss out on something real and amazing.”
“I don’t know. I think there’s something nice about a bit of certainty.”
The stylist returns to wash the colour out of my hair, so Charlie and I don’t get a chance to debate the topic further. But I’m tired of it already anyway.
Life is not all love hearts and rainbows.
People are just deceiving themselves if they think otherwise.
***
Charlie and I have just enough time to go back to my place to get changed and then catch an Uber over to the Valley. The party is at Cloudland, and we’ve booked the Rhombus booth, a cosy area with a plush banquette for everyone to recline on.
We arrive a few minutes early so we can prepare for everyone’s arrival. After ordering a couple of bottles of champagne and some finger food, we wait for the others.
“What’s your five-year plan?” Charlie asks me while pouring us each a glass of bubbles.
“Oh, I…I guess I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Continue to build our presence in the region?”
“No, silly. I mean outside of your career. Do you want to get married? Have kids?”
“I’m only twenty-seven, Charlie. I don’t think I need to worry too much about that kind of stuff yet.”
“Really? Because you know your fertility drops after thirty.”
“Um, yes, thank you. I am very aware of female fertility rates. I studied the same biology classes at university as you, remember?”
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
“Nope. Why worry about something I have no control over?”
“So, you really don’t think you need to try and make things happen in your life?”
“Not really. I mean, yes, in my job, if I want to advance, I have to make an effort. But I don’t think that applies to relationships.”
“You don’t think that someone who is out there on a dating app and meeting lots of people has more chance of finding a partner than say, someone who locks themselves away in their apartment watching Netflix every night on their own?”
Mind Reader Page 1