Mind Reader

by Kirsty McManus

  “I don’t know. Couldn’t that second person by chance run into a potential mate in line at the supermarket? Or through a friend?”

  “That makes no sense. You don’t believe that people like Kellan Gallo are legit, yet you aren’t willing to use logic to find a date?”

  I bite my lip. “You’re right. The person using the dating app would probably have more success. But I think I’m just jaded after Brock. I can’t bear to put myself back out there yet.”

  “Oh, honey, Brock was a dick. He is not representative of the type of guy you will meet in the future.”

  “You don’t know that. Honestly, I’m not sure there are any nice guys out there anymore.”

  “There are! You just have to have faith. Hang in there. You’ll get your happily ever after. I promise.”

  Thankfully, my team members show up, so I don’t have to reply. I stand up to greet them and busy myself pouring glasses of wine and talking shop.

  If I never had to discuss my love life again, I’d be quite happy.

  THREE

  Kellan

  Tonight is such a bore. I’ve had three clients so far, but they’ve all been completely generic. Three almost-identical women, in their late twenties, single for a couple of years, and wondering when they’ll find their match.

  One was going to have to wait another three years until she found hers, so we engaged in a little consolation sex at the strip club before she left. It’s a nice perk of the job, but like I told Keira, I never initiate that kind of thing. This power of mine has a strange effect on women. Even if they’re going to meet their soulmate the next day, a significant number will want to sleep with me as a sort of ‘last hurrah.’ I never object. I like to think it’s healthy for them to enter eternal monogamy without any regrets.

  The only problem is, I often have to give them a nudge if I please them a little too well. It would never do to have someone get attached to me when they’re on the verge of meeting their soulmate.

  Yet as my reputation proves, everyone leaves happy.

  I’m back at Heaven Sent, sitting in my booth, drinking a martini. I might call it a night soon. I charge all my clients a flat fee, and usually, I’ll see between five and eight per night (with the odd spontaneous prediction thrown in, depending on my mood), but my heart isn’t in it tonight. It’s easy money, but sometimes I wonder if I should be doing something else. With only two nights per week here, I have a lot of spare time outside of that. Life is starting to become a bit dull.

  Roxy comes over. Sometimes I feel like she’s the only one who really understands me. While my power is helping people find love, hers is granting access to the hottest club in town. You’re never quite sure if those you meet only like you for what you can do for them, or who you actually are.

  She sits down beside me. “Quiet night?”

  “No, but I’m thinking of leaving early anyway. Tonight just isn’t doing it for me.”

  “Not enough of your ladies putting out?” she teases.

  “Oh, that’s definitely not a problem. But sometimes it gets a bit predictable, you know? In the past, I’ve always liked the practically guaranteed offers, but now…”

  Roxy laughs. “Honey, if I had that many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, I would not be complaining.”

  Roxy is gay, so we often discuss the qualities we find most attractive in the fairer sex.

  “Do you want me to send a few your way next time?” I offer.

  “I don’t need a wingman, thank you; I do more than adequately on my own. But I’m wondering, are you bored because none of these women are actually here for you?”

  It’s like she can see inside my brain, but it wouldn’t do to look vulnerable, so I play dumb. “What do you mean? Of course they’re here for me.”

  “Not in an emotional way. Are you sick of matching everyone else and not having that ‘one’ for yourself?”

  I’m about to protest, but then all the fight leaves me.

  “Maybe,” I say honestly. “I’ve been doing this shit for fifteen years, Rox. I was predicting relationships for the girls back in high school, although granted, they didn’t really believe me back then. And I’m sure for some of them, having to wait upwards of ten years wasn’t particularly inspiring, but yes, perhaps. I have occasionally wondered when it will be my turn.”

  “Are you worried it will never happen?” she asks gently.

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” I stand up. “I have to go.”

  “Wait, Kellan…”

  I ignore her and continue walking. I need to get out of the club. I can’t be showing weakness in public. It would ruin my image.

  I just want to go home and be alone.

  ***

  Beatrix

  I’m not in the mood for socialising tonight, which is a shame, since I went to such an effort to look good. My hair is perfectly coloured and styled, and I’m wearing a cute new dress I bought at Zara. I even got Charlie to help me with my makeup, since I’m so terrible at doing that kind of thing normally.

  But after the initial pleasure of organising something nice for my team has worn off, I feel strangely melancholy. I don’t know if it was the fact that I was reminded of Brock earlier, or whether I started thinking seriously about Charlie’s question regarding a five-year plan—but whatever it is, I’m just not in a party mood.

  Charlie notices. “Are you okay, babe?”

  “Would you be mad if I went home early? I’m not feeling great.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “A little,” I fib. “I think it might be something I ate at lunch.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. You want me to go with you?”

  “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll catch a cab.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Thanks for looking out for me. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Send me a text when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

  “Will do.”

  I say my goodbyes to the group and head for the exit. The club is busy, so I push my way through the crowds. Out on the street, there are dozens of revellers stumbling between all the Valley’s venues. I look across the road to the cab stand and see a long line of people waiting. I don’t have the patience to queue with them, so I walk a little farther up the road, hoping to hail a taxi as it drives past. I already know an Uber will be too expensive here at this time of night.

  I vaguely register the restaurants and clubs as I go, glancing up at Heaven Sent with its huge neon angel wings out the front. I’ve never been in there, and I suspect I wouldn’t be cool enough to be granted access, so I’ve never tried.

  I see a taxi coming towards me, and I hold my arm out. It starts to slow down, so I run for it, but someone else gets there at the same time as me. I pause at the door to face my competition and see whether it’s worth fighting them.

  I freeze.

  It’s Kellan Gallo.

  He looks at me with equal hesitation. We both stand there, stuck in limbo.

  And then I come to my senses. I’m too tired to deal with a pretend psychic right now, so I back away.

  “You take it,” I say, starting to turn around.

  “No, wait. Where are you going?”

  I keep walking. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m just going to the city. I’ll pay for the fare, and the driver can take you wherever you need to go after he drops me off.”

  I stop and face him. “Why?”

  A trace of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Because I’m a gentleman?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Always.” He points to the cab. “Either way, decide now because this guy won’t wait forever.”

  I look back down across the road, where the official taxi queue has grown. I’m probably going to regret this.

  “Okay.” I go up to the cab and slide into the backseat, expecting Kellan to sit up front next to the driver. But instead, he walks around to the othe
r side and opens the back passenger door, sitting beside me.

  “Just to the Meriton on Herschel Street,” he instructs the driver. “And then to wherever this lovely lady would like to go after that.”

  I look at him, bemused. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. And who might you be?”

  “Beatrix. And you’re Kellan Gallo.”

  He smiles in the dark. “That I am. It’s nice to meet you, Beatrix.”

  “Have you just come from…work?” I force the last word out to be polite, but what I really wanted to say was ‘ripping people off.’

  “I take it from your tone you’re not a fan?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Do you mind me asking why?”

  “Because I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t scam people, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree there.”

  He studies me curiously. “You’re very quick to judge someone you’ve never met.”

  “I read all about you in YZ magazine today, so I know all I need to know.”

  “Are you aware that the journalist at YZ was as sceptical as you when I first met her? And if I hadn’t confirmed that her current boyfriend was, in fact, her soulmate, that article probably would have turned out a lot less favourable. But I was willing to take that risk. I always tell the truth.”

  “Really.” I don’t know if I believe him, so I say it more as a statement than a question.

  “Yes, really. But I don’t have to prove myself to you.”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  We sit in silence, driving through the city streets. I have to admit, the guy is slightly less offensive than I expected. And he smells annoyingly good. The energy coming off him is electric, and I start to see how he has such an effect on women. But I can’t let myself fall for it. I won’t have the chance anyway. We’re just about to pull into Herschel Street.

  As we turn the corner, there’s a loud bang. I jump in fright, grabbing Kellan’s arm. The car stops, and the driver gets out. “Damn it.”

  “It sounds like a flat tyre,” Kellan observes.

  “Oh.” I feel silly for being afraid, and quickly remove my hand from Kellan’s arm. He looks down at my retreating fingers in amusement.

  “Where do you live?” he asks.

  “Over in West End. I’ll just call another cab.”

  “Why don’t you let me drive you? My building is right here.” He points to the Meriton entrance a few feet away.

  “Uh, no thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “I haven’t had much to drink. I just don’t like driving over to the Valley on the weekend. But taking you to West End will be easy.”

  “It’s okay.” I start to feel a little panicky. I don’t know this guy at all. What if he’s a serial killer who hides behind a weird matchmaker façade? What if he sabotaged the taxi somehow, and this is his plan? I know I’m being paranoid, but I wouldn’t willingly go in anyone else’s car if I’d just met them.

  Kellan seems to sense my unease. “Hey, no problem. I’m happy for you to stay here with the driver and call another cab. I just thought I’d offer.” He gets a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “But here are my details, just in case.”

  I hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

  He walks towards the Meriton building, giving me a small wave as he leaves. I nod in return.

  That was definitely the smart thing to do.

  Even if I do feel a weird tiny trace of regret that I’ll never see him again.

  FOUR

  Kellan

  I ride up in the elevator to my apartment, thinking about Beatrix. She’s different from the other women I’ve met, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I mean, I often run into critics of my work, but I can usually turn them in the end. Like that journalist. Maybe it’s just the fact my time with Beatrix was cut short, so I didn’t have long enough to bring her around.

  That must be it. Plus, I’m still feeling a little off-balance from my discussion with Roxy earlier. I should almost be thanking Beatrix for the temporary distraction.

  I reach my floor, unlock the door, and go inside, pausing to look out at the Brisbane skyline. I love being able to look down on everything from up here. To be separate from the world.

  I pour myself a glass of Glenfiddich and stand near the floor-to-ceiling glass, gazing at the Brisbane River.

  Here is where I can finally relax. Where I don’t have to be ‘on.’ I shrug off my jacket and unbutton my shirt. After kicking off my shoes and socks, I open the fridge, looking for something to eat. Even though I only saw three clients tonight, I’m starving.

  I’m just about to heat up some leftover dhal when my phone buzzes.

  Hi, it’s Beatrix. Could you please come down to reception?

  I grin. Well, well. It appears she hasn’t been able to resist my charms after all.

  I grab my apartment key and head back to the elevator, anticipating a night of passion with the gorgeous blonde.

  But when I get to the lobby, all thoughts of getting her naked disappear.

  Beatrix is sitting on the couch with her leg propped up, and she’s gingerly rubbing her ankle.

  “Took a little spill, did we?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I tripped on the curb,” she says, embarrassed. “I’m not sure if it’s just sprained or broken.”

  I kneel in front of her leg, prodding it gently.

  “Ow,” she moans.

  “I think it might just be sprained, but you probably want to get it checked out properly. I’ll get my car keys and take you to the hospital.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t go out of your way. I…I just…”

  “Why did you call me then, if you didn’t want my help?”

  She looks flustered. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t really thinking straight. I guess the cab driver had disappeared, and I was on my own, and it was dark…”

  “Hey, it’s fine. I’m not doing anything else. Let me help you.”

  I can see the internal conflict she’s experiencing, but I’m not sure why she’s being so stubborn.

  After a moment, she finally relents. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be back in a second. Stay here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she says dryly.

  “Ha. I guess not.” I return to my apartment and put on some shoes and grab my wallet and car keys. I button up my shirt as I go back down to the ground floor. Beatrix is still sitting on the couch. I help her to her feet, draping her arm around my shoulder as we limp over to the elevator to go to the basement.

  In the confined space, I can sense her discomfort, but for the first time in as long as I can remember, I can’t think of the right words to say. This petite little thing with her choppy, shoulder-length bob, and huge eyes—fringed with what I can tell are naturally long lashes—has left me at a loss. The strap on her dress falls off her shoulder, so I gently slide it back on. She stares at me, caught off guard, but doesn’t say anything.

  Once in the undercover garage, I guide her over to my car, clicking the unlock button on my keychain.

  She looks at the vehicle, surprised. “You drive a Nissan hatch?”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem to fit with your image. I pegged you for more of a sports car kind of guy. At least a BMW.”

  “I just wanted something that wouldn’t destroy the environment.”

  She seems even more weirded out. “What? It’s electric?”

  “That’s right.” I smile smugly. I’m glad her preconceived notions about me are already being disproven.

  “Okay, then.”

  I help her into the front seat before jumping behind the wheel. The car starts with barely a purr, and I reverse out, heading for the street. “It’s handy if I need to make a quick getaway,” I deadpan.

  She runs her hand along the dashboard in front of her.
“Is that a common occurrence for you?”

  I laugh. “No! I was joking! Despite what you’ve heard, I’m not in the habit of sneaking out of someone’s house in the middle of the night.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “You don’t know what to make of me, do you?”

  She blushes. “No, I don’t. But I really am grateful for your help. When we get to the hospital, you can just drop me out the front of the emergency room, and I’ll sort myself out from there.”

  “I’ll stay as long as necessary. We wouldn’t want you falling and spraining your other ankle once I left, now, would we?”

  She seems to relax a little and smiles. “No.”

  We arrive at the hospital, and I locate a wheelchair for her to use. After pushing her inside and filling out some paperwork, we’re instructed to wait with all the other patients.

  “This might take a while. I’ll call my friend Charlie if you want to go?” she offers.

  “It’s fine. I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than sit here under these very flattering fluorescent lights.”

  She emits the quietest of laughs. “As long as you’re sure. I feel bad for imposing so much.”

  “Don’t. All I ask in return is that you remain open-minded about me.”

  She takes a moment to reply. “Okay. I will.”

  We sit there for a while longer, and then she can’t seem to help herself. “So how does it work, exactly?”

  “I help people find their soulmates.”

  “I know the premise. But what does that entail?”

  “I guess it’s kind of like a vision. I describe the person I see to my client, along with the rough timeframe it will take for them to show up, and that’s it.”

  “How do you see the timeframe?”

  “It’s hard to explain, but I can sort of tell by how clear the vision is. If they’re big and bold, and immediately in front of me, then I know their meeting is imminent. If they’re distant and fuzzy, it means the person will have to wait a while. I guess because I work so often, I’ve gotten pretty accurate with my estimations.”