“Whoa. You picked up on his name? Please—please don’t tell the police,” he says.
“Everything here is confidential. I wouldn’t dream of intervening for something like this. It’s not my job,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“But you’re—you’re the one who helped find that little girl recently, right?” he says.
“I am, but that was a different type of situation. I was pulled in on the case. And your situation hardly requires me to step in for police interaction,” I say, cocking an eyebrow, “even if it’s totally not cool.”
Lenny nods vigorously, “I’m—I’ll stop. I’m done. I want my shot with Andrew.”
He stands up, brushing off his legs as he stands, trying to decrease the wrinkles. It doesn’t help.
“Great. You’ll come back and keep me posted, right?” I say.
“Sure—sure, I’d love to,” he says, reaching for my hand again.
I take it, placing my other hand over his.
Instantly, a much happier future for him opens up. As if the pathway he was on was leading him down the destructive path to heartache, but in the past instant, he’s made a new decision—a life-altering decision. These are the types of interactions that are the reason I continue to do this. When you can see a life shift from destruction, to something far more pleasant.
It’s so strange how simple—and how difficult that is. Choice.
We’re always one choice away from a completely different life.
Smiling at him, I let go of his hand, and walk him out of the reading room and into the main part of the shop.
Renaldo looks up from the gossip magazine he was reading and feigns surprise—it’s written all over his face. He’s surprised I left my reading room “cave” to enter the real world of the store. When I can help it, I generally avoid the front because you never know who might see me and want to attempt to weasel their way into a free reading.
I roll my eyes and smirk.
“Okay, Lenny—Renaldo here will get you all squared away,” I say.
As soon as I look at Lenny, a cord of energy bursts from his chest, linking to Ren’s.
“You know what,” I say, looking between them, “Ren, I think you may be a good person to talk to Lenny. He doesn’t have many people he can turn to, but for some reason, I get a good vibe about you two.”
Renaldo looks surprised at first—his eyebrows flick upward—but he’s known me long enough to know when I say something like that, to go with it.
“Hmmm, okay, I’m intrigued,” Ren says, putting his magazine down and walking to Lenny. His flamboyant attitude is so similar to Andrew’s—at least from what I can tell—and it instantly puts Lenny at ease.
“I’m Renaldo, Diana’s boss—” he says, shooting me a coy grin.
“You wish,” I say, chuckling and heading back toward my reading room.
I leave the two of them alone, allowing them some space to have the conversation they need to have. It’s so interesting how this universe works sometimes. It all takes place in whatever orchestra its meant to—like every string is so carefully pulled so the timing is perfect.
I stop walking, surprised at my own train of thought—as if all of this is happening not just for Lenny—but for me as well. The color green floods my entire perception and I know it’s true. I’ve hunted for so long for clues of my past, but this is a mixed message—like it’s made with invisible ink and if I look at it to long, it will all melt away.
But what exactly is meant to be?
Am I supposed to be making the choice to be happy? To help Blake on this case? To—ugh—give love a chance?
Again, green lights up. But not just for the last thought—for them all.
Dammit.
Fear unfurls from my stomach again—twisting and turning. Being hard is easy. Having a protective shell is pretty much my thing. But learning to let go of all that? Can I even handle it?
No—I’m not ready. Not yet.
As much as I want to move forward, there’s still so much from my past I need to have answered. I can’t let it go and become something new until I know what I was. Who I was. Why I’m here and stuck this way.
“Oh honey, I can totally help you with that,” Renaldo says to Lenny. His words pull me from my own thoughts.
“Really, you’d help me?” Lenny says, surprise painted in his tone.
“Are you kidding me? Taking on a project like you is a dream come true. We can go shopping—get this hair cut and—oh my God, a manicure. When was the last time you had you hands done?” Ren says, gasping.
I have to laugh to myself. If there’s one person who can whip Lenny into shape, it’s certainly Ren. And if he’s the one guiding him to Andrew—it’ll be perfect.
Sitting down at my desk, I reach for my phone.
Maybe I should call Blake. I don’t have to commit to anything but coffee, right?
I pick up the old-fashioned, corded receiver, then set it back down.
I don’t even have his number.
Placing my hand over my face, I chuckle to myself. What on earth was I thinking? It was like I was going to call him for the hundredth time—and I don’t even have his number.
Come on Diana, where is your head at?
“Thanks so much, Renaldo. I’ll definitely give you a call later tonight. I really do appreciate you being willing to teach me,” Lenny says.
“My pleasure, Len. You got this,” Renaldo says.
The doorbell to the shop dings as Lenny exits.
A moment later, Renaldo bounds into my reading room.
“What a beautiful soul,” he says, holding his hand to his chest.
“So, you decided to help him?” I say, already knowing the answer.
“Of course. Did you see him? He’s hopeless. Lord, if someone doesn’t show him the ropes, ain’t no one gonna notice how beautiful his eyes are,” he says, dropping into the chair across from me.
“Good, you both had a pretty strong cord. He’ll be around for a while. Maybe this is an answer to your prayers, too,” I say.
“What do you mean? I’m not leaving Brody for—”
I wave my hand dismissively, “No, not that. I mean, maybe once he and Andrew are together—if they continue on that trajectory—because it’s not certain yet, I could see you all hanging out together. It would lighten Brody’s load to keep you entertained.”
Renaldo gasps, “I’m not that much of a diva, Diana. What are you saying?”
“You know you're a piece of work, and damn lucky to have found Brody,” I laugh.
“Hmph,” he says, crossing his arms.
“But at least it looks like you'll be on the upswing,” I say, shrugging.
“Well, as long as someone lets me dress them, it's a start,” Ren says, his eyes distant as he no-doubt starts to mentally rearrange Lenny's wardrobe. “Now, what are we going to do with you?”
“Nothing. I'm going to go about my day as usual. In fact, when's my next client due?” I ask, glancing at my wrist.
Ren’s lips tug into a straight line, but he says, “Any minute, I suppose.”
“Good. I'm gonna go sit outside and enjoy the fresh air while I wait,” I say, standing up and heading once again to the back door.
“You can't survive on fresh air alone. Do you want me to call down to the cafe for lunch again?” he asks, making his way to the front.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I think I'll go out today, instead.”
Ren’s jaw slacks open, “Are you feeling okay? You haven’t been out since—”
“Good God, I'm fine. Now, go wait for the next client, would you?” I say, shooing him with my hands.
“You can run, Ms. Thang, but you can’t hide,” he says. “One of these days, all this running will catch up with you.”
“Yeah, yeah—going now,” I say slamming the door behind me.
8
THE NEXT FEW DAYS drag by. I’m talking the pace a grandma snail would be proud of. My mind keeps toy
ing with the idea of finding Blake—or maybe finding a way to call him. Of course, I always think better of it.
I mean, who am I kidding? Even if I went for coffee or offered to help on the case, having him around hinders my abilities anyway. Besides, it’s not like he isn’t capable on his own.
“Daydreaming again?” Renaldo says, breaking my concentration, and causing me to jump.
“Christ, don’t sneak up on a person like that,” I squeak.
“Ooooohhh, musta been a good one, too. Were you dreaming about tall, dark, and tight ass?” he says, rushing in.
“Would you drop it, Ren? I’m not even dating the man. He wanted help on a case,” I say, rubbing my cheeks.
“True, but as I recall, he also asked you out to coffee, did he not?”
“He did, but it was so he could try to talk me into helping him. Nothing more,” I say.
“And how do you know?”
The doorbell rings, and Ren holds up a finger, “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back. Should give you plenty of time to come up with something.”
I shake my head. Leave it to Ren to turn an acquaintance into a full-blown love interest.
But I have to admit, Blake’s a hard nut to crack. What is it that makes him impossible to read? Could he be tied to me somehow? Or am I leaning on some bizarre wishful thinking? Possibly both?
Ren bounds back in, a spring in his step and a box in his hands.
“The box of Valentine’s goodies is here,” he says, a chipper tone in his voice. He’s always loved Valentine’s Day. It’s the one time of the year when he can pretty much guarantee the attention he generally hopes for from Brody.
“You know these items are meant for customers, right? Paying, customers,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“What exactly are you insinuating, Ms. Diana?” he says, feigning surprise.
“Exactly that. Unless you’re a paying customer, it stays here.”
“I wouldn’t dream of stealing from you. Though, if you paid me more, I’d be able to afford more…”
“A vicious cycle, I’m afraid,” I say, chuckling.
He pulls out a whip that looks more like a feather duster than something to spank with. His eyebrows practically bury themselves in his hairline.
“Mmmm. Roar,” he says. “I'm thinking you should take one of these.”
“Paying customers,” I reiterate. “Since I'm not paying, nor a customer —I think not,” I say, shaking my head. “Besides, what the hell would I do with it except whip my dust bunnies into shape?”
“You’re such a party pooper,” Ren says, frowning. “There's so many goodies in here.”
I shake my head and pick up the box. I place it squarely in his outstretched hands.
“Take this to the front and do your magic, please.”
Sighing heavily, he takes the box and turns on his heel—throwing a dramatic head spin in for good measure.
The doorbell dings again, and I take my spot at my reading table. The room is ready; candles lit and incense burning.
“Hey, got a sec?” Blake pops his head inside the room.
My mouth pops open, and I stand up, nearly knocking over the table.
“I—uh, no. I don’t actually. I have a client who’ll turn up any minute now,” I say, trying to overcome the surprise.
I scramble to keep my rose quartz crystal ball from knocking over and rolling to the floor.
He watches me flounder for a moment, edging further into the room and crossing his arms.
“Kinda klutzy, aren’t we?”
A lopsided smile emerges, sending shockwaves through my veins.
Good lord, how old am I?
“What do you want, Blake?” I say, firmer this time.
The last thing I need is for him to know he’s getting to me.
“So, I was thinking about what you were saying before,” he says, taking another step into the room.
“You’ll need to be more specific,” I mutter, trying to center myself. I feel heady—and off. Like there’s not enough oxygen in the room and I’m desperately trying to breathe.
“You said people are stupid and rarely worth your time. It got me thinking about my own situation and I still think we’d make a good team.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I think you’re wrong. People are generally flawed—yes. Plenty of them have issues, as you saw the other day. But I’ve also witnessed some pretty amazing people in my time. For whatever reason, I feel like you’re missing out if you’re not witnessing that side of people, too,” he says, taking a last stride forward and leaning on the back of the chair opposite me.
“I seriously doubt you’ve had enough experience with people, if this is your take,” I say, leaning back.
“Come on, let me show you. Let’s do coffee—and maybe, if you want, we can work together on this case and I’ll help you see the world a little differently,” he says, grinning.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” I say, irritation welling up.
Who does this guy think he is?
Seriously, I’ve been around a while. I highly doubt his thirty some odd years—maybe forty—have gifted him more people experience than all of mine.
“So, is that a yes?” Blake says, his eyes flashing mischievously.
“Screw you,” I sputter, suddenly unable to contain myself. After all he’s done this past week, I can’t believe I’d actually considered calling him.
“Could be fun, but I don’t generally make a habit of it on the first date,” he smirks.
I roll my eyes.
Wonderful, we have a comedian in our midst. Swell.
“Let me make this abundantly clear to you,” I begin, folding my hands across the table, “I will, in no way, shape, or form ever—EVER go on a date with you. There will be no screwing for that matter, as I’m not even sure you’d pull your head outta your ass long enough to entertain the thought of someone else’s pleasure…”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been told by many women I’m very attentive,” he cuts me off, an eyebrow quirking smugly.
An absurd shiver squiggles down my spine and I instantly get unwanted flashes of intimate moments he’s had with women—of course, they’re all from my imagination as it springs into action—instead of any sort of reading from him.
“Gah—” I cry, throwing my hands to the sides of my head to try to ignore my mind as it plays tricks. “That’s—it’s not the point. The point is, it will never, ever happen with us. So the sooner you can get it through your thick skull, the better off we’ll both be.”
Blake takes a step around the table toward me, his dark eyes penetrating mine in the most intimate way. I can’t explain it—it’s like he strips me down to my bare essence. Not the naked me, but the soul level me. The corner creases of his eyes deepen as he takes me in, and his lips tilt ever so slightly upward.
Reaching his right hand out, he cups the side of my face without a word. Warmth radiates from the palm of his hand, making me shiver despite myself. My body suddenly craves to lean into it.
“Give me time,” he finally whispers, winking.
I glare at him, knowing full well my traitorous insides want desperately to give into it.
Dammit.
Stepping back, I pull my face from his hand.
“Listen, I don’t know about you, but where I’m from, touching someone without consent can be considered assault,” I warn.
My skin blazes, tingling from his touch.
Blake chuckles, his dark eyebrows rising in a high arc.
“Oh, is that so? Well, I’ll keep that under advisement,” he says, tipping his head. “It was good to see you again, Diana. Think about it.”
Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out the door.
My eyes stray, mesmerized by the way he walks.
“Mmmm mmmm,” Renaldo mutters, appearing in the doorway. “Honey, I don’t know what the dealio is, but damn, that man has
a fine stride.”
“Go away, Ren,” I say, my eyes flicking to his from beneath my eyebrows.
I don’t know what kind of magic this guy has, but I’m not about to be his bitch. I’ve been around the block long enough to know when to stay the hell away. Everything about Blake screams RUN—even if half of me is in direct disagreement.
“I’m just saying… How long’s it been since you…” he wiggles his eyebrows, “…ya know?”
I stare at him unblinking.
Four years, eight months, and 12 days. But who’s counting?
“It wouldn’t hurt ya to use him to get a little somethin’ somethin’ and ignore the rest—if that’s what floats your boat. I mean, your nether region is gonna atrophy, if you’re not careful. What I wouldn’t give to have your kinda freedom,” he says, his eyes going distant, and a giddy smile stretching across his lips.
“Oh please,” I say, “you and Brody are perfect for each other and you know it. Even if you were able, you’d still be chasing him around like a lost pup.”
Renaldo snaps his fingers in the air, “Oh no you don’t, woman. Take it back. If anything, the lost puppy would be him.”
I chuckle and walk to the doorway.
“Sure, if you say so. Let me know when my next client is here,” I mutter, slowly closing the door to my reading room and sealing myself off.
Walking to the window overlooking the garden, I stare out into the sea of color. If it were up to me, none of these flowers would exist, and I’d have nothing to appreciate as I stand here. Thank god for Sebastian and his green thumb. He’s the first landlord I’ve ever had who couldn’t stay away from gardening. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve spent walking the garden, pulling in their potent fragrance and allowing it to wash the day’s energy from my aura.
I stare out at the hydrangeas, watching as they buzz with activity from the bees roaming the garden.
How does Blake get under my skin so easily?
It’s not like there’s anything special about him—not really. Sure, great ass. But as much as I can appreciate his physique—it’s not what’s annoying the crap outta me. Maybe it’s the fact he’s right. Something is sparking between us—despite my best efforts to ignore it. For the first time I can remember, I’m not in control of how it’s gonna play out and that scares the hell outta me. Something’s sweeping me away and I’m powerless to stop it.
Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book Page 8