Extrasensual Perception

by Rayna Vause

  He reached the door, turned the knob, and blinked in surprise when the door swung open. He’d expected it to be locked. Still, not one to question his luck, he stepped into one of the plushest offices he’d ever seen. Tinted windows looked out over the club, and a large seating area outfitted with red leather couches and chrome-and-glass tables faced the windows. The other end of the wide space contained a funky, multicolored wooden desk and asymmetric bookshelves. Behind the desk sat a tiny blonde woman so deep into her work she didn’t hear him approach.

  “Angelica, your security sucks. You really need to look into that before opening night.”

  Her head whipped up, violet eyes flared wide, and her hand disappeared under her desk. When recognition kicked in, her entire countenance changed. A huge smile spread across her face and warmth filled her eyes.

  “Chris!”

  Through his mother’s work, Chris had met his fair share of the rich and powerful, but Angelica Whitman stood out from the others. She possessed a genuineness and warmth that drew people to her. They had a ton of fun together no matter what they did, but how could they not. Angie was the good kind of nutty.

  He smiled and held up his hands as if surrendering. “I’m sorry to startle you, but if you want privacy, maybe consider locking the door.”

  “Shut up, Christopher. No one asked you. And never, ever sneak up on me like that. ” Angelica rose from behind her desk and crossed to him, holding out her hands in greeting. He took them and pulled her in for a hug. “How are you? It’s been ages.” She tugged him over to one of the large couches and sat, patting the spot next to her.

  “I’m hanging in there, as always.”

  “How about your mom? How’s she doing?” She cocked her head and her voice went soft.

  “She’s recovering. She’s still got a long road ahead of her, but she’s getting there. She’s also the reason I’m here today. She asked me to pass on a message.”

  Angelica’s eyes went wide and she bit her lip. She turned, tucking a leg underneath her so she could fully face him. “Please tell me.” Excitement and trepidation filled her voice.

  “Look, it’s a little cryptic. Okay, it’s a lot cryptic, but she was adamant that I pass this on to you today.”

  Angie nodded.

  “Danger is coming soon. So basically keep your eyes open and don’t do anything stupid.” He stabbed a finger at her.

  She stuck out her tongue in retaliation.

  “Mom also wants you to be careful around water. Apparently it is not your friend.”

  Her brow creased. “What does that even mean, Chris? What kind of danger? What kind of water? Should I avoid bottled water, the shower, what? Details would be nice.”

  “I know. I said the same thing to her, but this is the best she’s got for you. Please don’t let this make you crazy. Her gift has been a little wonky ever since the stroke.”

  “That’s gotta be tough for both of you.” She rubbed a comforting hand up and down his arm.

  “Yeah, but she’s resilient. If anyone can bounce back, it’s Melina Vincent.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said cryptic.”

  “You know how Ma is. With a little luck, she’ll have more specifics for you in time.”

  “Well, until then, I’m sure my overly fertile imagination will have a field day.”

  Chris laughed. For the first time in hours, the tightness in his chest vanished. He should have known Angie would take his mama’s craziness in stride. When situations arose where he could potentially make an ass of himself, he always got the worst case of agita.

  “And now that this particular mission is accomplished, I need to get going.” He pushed to his feet.

  “That’s it? You’re just going to pop in, drop a bomb, and run? You can’t even stay and catch up? Have a drink with me. Let me show you around the club.”

  “I wish I could, but I need to get down to Mom’s shop and start getting things packed up.”

  “No more Madam Melina’s? She’s going to have a lot of upset customers.”

  Chris stared down at the floor. “We just can’t afford the place anymore. She really can’t work right now. In the meantime, we’re paying rent, but we’ve got no income. Hopefully, if and when she gets well, we can find her another location. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry. I wish I could help in some way.”

  “Have any openings here at CW?”

  She frowned at him. “Openings? Chris, what happened to your job?”

  He cringed and looked out at the club. “So you remember how I told you about the idiot who somehow managed to get himself promoted to department supervisor?”

  “Yes.”

  “And remember how you told me I needed to work on my brain-to-mouth filter?”

  “Oh, Chris. You didn’t.”

  “I did. He pissed me off, I opened my mouth, and the next thing I knew, I was out of a job. I mean, I hated that place anyway. With all the work I missed taking care of Ma, I guess that was the final excuse they needed to let me go.”

  “Dammit, Chris.”

  “I know. I know. I’m working on it.”

  “When did all of this happen?”

  “About a month ago.”

  “Chris!” She threw her hands up in the air and let them flop down. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner? I would have found a position for you.”

  “I appreciate it, but I needed the time off then. Now I need the job.”

  “I’m sure we can find something that will work with your schedule.” She flashed her brilliant, professionally whitened smile. “Come on, let me show you around the club. It’s going to be amazing.”

  She gave him the grand tour, leading him around the enormous space and finally to a small screened-off area on the far side of the club, away from the worst of the noise.

  “I want a little something special for the club. I’d planned to make your mother an offer I hoped she couldn’t refuse. A nice, cushy job utilizing her talents here at Carnival W. I’d still like to find a reputable psychic, but that’s not exactly an easy task.”

  “It’s a fabulous place, Angie.” Chris turned in a circle, taking it all in. Then he glanced at the far end of the club and forgot how to breathe. It’s him.

  Angelica’s older brother, Jack, strode toward the office as though he owned the place. Which he did. The sight of him sucker punched Chris.

  The image he’d built of Jack in his mind paled in comparison to the reality. In fact, it hadn’t done him justice at all.

  Jack wore a navy suit and looked professional, powerful, and sexy as hell. His wavy, golden blond hair and gleaming silver-gray eyes made him seem like an earthbound angel. He’d been the subject of many of Chris’s fantasies for years, ever since they’d shared that one kiss. That one amazing, heart-stopping kiss.

  In that moment, the memory of Jack’s rich, spicy scent filled Chris’s head. His hands tingled as he recalled the sensation of hard muscle under soft cotton. His body heated as he remembered the caress of warm breath and the press of firm lips as Jack claimed his mouth. As fingers linked with his.

  Then his world exploded.

  Pain shot through his body. Murky water surrounded him as he fought his way toward a surface that never seemed to get any closer. His lungs burned, needing air, as his body shut down and darkness crept in. He shook himself free of the vision and staggered forward, bracing a hand against the wall. He bent forward, putting his other hand on his knee, and sucked in deep gulps of air.

  “Hey. Are you all right?”

  A voice called from beyond the roaring water and darkness, pulling him back into himself. Chris shook his head trying to clear the disturbing images. Shit, I hate it when this happens.

  “Chris? Chris, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

  “I’m fine.” Heat rushed up the back of his neck, burning its way straight to the tips of his ears. He stifled the urge to groan in mortification and forced himself to meet Angeli
ca’s concerned gaze.

  “I’m fine. Really. I should just go.” He started for the double doors that would lead him outside and away from the inevitable embarrassing and awkward questions. He didn’t make it far.

  “Stop!”

  Chris froze and swiveled back to face Angelica. She stood a few steps behind him, feet planted and fisted hands on her hips.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m going to get out of your hair. I know I popped in unannounced, and you’ve got a ton of things to do before the grand opening.” He started walking backward, and she matched him step for step.

  “You don’t get to just run out of here with no explanations.”

  “Look, Ang, it’s really no big deal.”

  She clutched his arm, tugging him to a stop. Her vibrant purple gaze grew wide. “You’ve got the gift too, don’t you?”

  “I….” He dropped his chin to his chest and inhaled long and deep. “Yes, I’ve got psychic ability too.”

  Her grip tightened on his arm; her hushed words snapped with hurt and annoyance. “Chris, we’ve been friends for years. How did I not know this?”

  “I don’t tell anyone about my abilities. I don’t like talking about them, and I don’t like using them. I generally don’t share what I can do with anyone, even the people closest to me.”

  “I’ve touched you before. I’m touching you now. What was the difference this time that triggered a vision? I did trigger a vision, didn’t I?”

  “I usually have more control. I guess you caught me off guard when you grabbed my hand.” He refused to admit that the little trip he’d taken down memory lane featuring her brother had probably caused it. He’d embarrassed himself enough for one day.

  “This is amazing!”

  “Whaa?” Next thing he knew, he held an armful of laughing, bouncing Angelica. He gripped her arms and eased back from her. He needed a moment to process her sudden change. “What is wrong with you, woman?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “I had been planning to offer your mother a job here at my new club before I heard about her illness. A psychic is the perfect final addition to the other attractions we offer. This has worked out even better than I could have imagined!”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You need a job, and I need a psychic I can trust.”

  Chris winced and held up his hand to stop her, but she kept plowing ahead.

  “I can give you one hell of a compensation package. There are perks to being friends with the boss.” She winked at him and rushed off to grab a pen from one of the workmen and a cocktail napkin. She jotted something on the paper, then all but ran back to him, thrusting the napkin at him.

  “Angie, I don’t think this is a good idea. I just told you I don’t like to use my abilities.”

  “Just read it.” She cocked a hip, crossed her arms, and smirked at him.

  He rolled his eyes. Just read the note, give her a polite no thank you, and get back to your day. He unfolded the napkin and froze after reading what she’d written. HOLY SHIT! He blinked twice. I must have misread that. When he looked at it again, the number remained the same.

  “Are you serious?”

  “One hundred percent. If you’re a fraction as good as your mom, you’ll be worth every penny.”

  Again he read the number scrawled in elegant, feminine print. He wanted to pass. God, he wanted to say no. He wanted to forget about all the psychic stuff and go home, but the practical and somewhat desperate part of his brain reminded him of the current balance in his checking account. With this type of money, he’d be in a better position to care for his mother. Maybe even dig them out of their financial hole.

  Go to her. Warn her. Look out for her.

  His mother’s words echoed in his mind. He’d completed two of the three tasks, but apparently the universe wouldn’t let him wiggle out of the third. When his visions started mirroring his dreams, he couldn’t deny that trouble had him in its crosshairs. While he’d rather have a public prostate exam than work as a nightclub psychic—hell, than be a psychic anywhere—he had no choice. Being caught between a financial rock, an insistent mother, and an obscure dream sucked.

  With a long exhale, he held out a hand. “Well, Angie, it looks like you’ve got yourself a psychic.”

  Chapter Two

  JACK surveyed the crowd in the club and smiled. He hated to use the phrase “instant success,” but Carnival W fit the bill. When Angelica concocted this idea of a carnival for adults, who knew people would flock to it like they were handing out free booze? He stood in the soundproofed office taking in the sea of people illuminated by flashing, swirling lights. Then he focused on the small screened-off area at the opposite end of the club. That one section of the club represented the lone dark spot on the shining success of this club. He shook his head. A damn psychic.

  He looked over his shoulder at his sister, who lounged on the leather couches watching the action below and sipping champagne. “You did a hell of a job, Angie.”

  She toasted him and laughed. “Thank you, Jackson. I appreciate your faith in me.”

  “Always. I never had any question about your ability to create and run this club. I just….” He walked to the couch and sat down, angling his body toward her.

  She raised a brow at him, crossed her legs, and leaned back in her chair.

  “A psychic, Angie. Really?”

  “We’ve been through this already, and yes, really. It’s perfect. What’s a carnival without a fortune-teller?”

  “A normal carnival.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Jack. I don’t tell you how to run the hotel. Don’t tell me how to run the club.”

  “I’m not.”

  She leaned forward and whacked him on the arm. He raised his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to push. Angelica barely wanted to be involved in the family business. Running this club, on the other hand, appealed to her. She liked the challenge, the creativity, and the energy. Granted, his sister tended to be a unique thinker, but hiring a psychic stepped too far outside of the box.

  “All I want to know is have we looked into any of the legal issues that a psychic can present? Can we be held liable in any way if someone yells fraud and wants to sue?”

  “Jack, our lawyers have us covered. All the proper disclaimers are in place. Relax, the Ivory Tower is still safe. No need to fear some sue-happy idiot will get a chunk of Whitman International.”

  He snorted. “Angie. Don’t call the executive offices the Ivory Tower.”

  Again, she rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  He scowled at her. She stuck out her tongue. He turned his head away and lifted his champagne glass to his lips to hide his amusement. He could always count on Angie to make him laugh.

  “I know you, Jack. You’ve seen the reports with the preliminary numbers and you can’t argue with them. So, you’re looking for any ridiculous excuse to get rid of Chris because you don’t believe in what he can do. I’ll say this again, and it should make your fiscally focused heart happy: in the time since we’ve been open, he’s had a line waiting for his services. I’ll bet good money those lines will get longer and longer as time goes on. Which means increased profits.”

  “That’s all well and good. I just worry that a psychic is not really appropriate for the Whitman brand.”

  “Is it you or is it the board that’s worried?”

  Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “Most of the board is fine with it, but there is a small contingent of the established board members giving me fits.”

  “You mean Bob Dooley is giving you fits, and he’s dragged a handful of others into it.”

  Jack shrugged.

  “Why do you keep him around? He’s nothing but a wart on the company’s nose. Hell, he’s a wart on humanity’s nose.”

  “He’s not that bad.”

  “He’s a relic. Is it sentiment, Jack? Is that why you keep him around? Or do you enjoy the grief he’s constantly giving? I
know he was Father’s friend, but come on. Father is never coming back, and you don’t need the headache Dooley causes.”

  “It’s not just Bob who isn’t entirely comfortable with a psychic.”

  “Jack, don’t be like the stuffed-shirt board members. Every so often you need to shake things up! Do things people don’t expect. Something offbeat.”

  He gestured toward the psychic’s station. “Face it, no one can predict the future. Anyone who goes to a psychic is just asking to get taken. I didn’t even think the psychic stuff was Chris’s thing—I thought that was his mother’s specialty.”

  “It is his mother’s specialty. And apparently, psychic ability is a genetic thing—as you so eloquently put it—because both mother and son have amazing talent.”

  Jack snorted.

  “I’m not going to argue with you. Just go talk to him. Let him do a reading for you. He’s read me and the man is amazing. I bet he can make you a believer.”

  He shot a side-eyed glance her way.

  “I dare you. If you’re going to be all judgmental, the least you can do is let the guy you’d like to fire demonstrate his skill.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that little pleasure.”

  “Don’t be a Jack-ass. Get it.”

  Jack groaned as Angelica laughed at her own terrible joke. “Fine, I’ll go. Especially if it means escaping the awful jokes. Seriously Angie, don’t quit your day job. You’ll never make it in comedy.”

  She shoved him toward the door.

  “I reserve the right to pull the plug on this at any time.”

  She narrowed her eyes and shot out her arm and held it rigid and straight, pointing a finger at the door like a mother directing a naughty child to his room. “Just go.”

  Jack left the office and walked into a wall of sound. The thundering bass from the music pounded in his chest, and the excited chatter of patrons and the beeps, rings, and whistles of games assaulted his ears. He did love this club, but he’d never admit it to his sister. He’d never hear the end of it.

  He wove through the throng of bodies, waving at familiar faces as he went, to the psychic’s station. A sound-break wall decorated in small running white lights and a shimmering CW had been installed to provide psychic and client a bit of privacy.