Page 90 of Death is My BFF

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” I said. “My friend is in danger.

He’ll die if I don’t get help. I was looking for a phone in here, but I seem to have gotten . . . off-track.”

Her eyes narrowed. In a flash, she slid a gun out of its holster and pointed it at me. “Sit down and shut up.” She motioned the weapon toward the palm-reading table.

“Holy crap, okay!” I walked to the table, lowering myself into my seat. “Listen, I only have ten bucks in my wallet and a piece of gum that I found at the bottom of my backpack. The gum might be warm because I’m sitting on it.” She continued to glare coldly at me.

“Please don’t kill me, I’m poor.”

“Nobody is going to kill anyone,ma chère,” announced a rich, French voice.

My eyes unglued from the end of the crazy woman’s gun. On the opposite side of the room stood a young, strikingly handsome man. He leaned against a golden cane straight out of a storybook. It had a large octagon-shaped clear crystal at the top of it and carved foreign symbols down the shaft. The cane itself was mesmerizing, almost more so than the man that came with it. He wore a luxurious deep-purple suit and had shoulder-length stark white hair with a multitude of colors at the ends. Various ornaments and rings layered around his neck and his fingers, and he wore a top hat, which matched the color of his suit. It was tipped over his face, concealing his eyes.

“Do not blame yourself for your friend,” continued the mysterious man. “The Fates work in mysterious ways. Thomas will survive and you will meet him again.”

How could he possibly know about Thomas?

The man limped closer to me, favoring his left leg. I pressed back into the chair. Noticing my recoil, he stopped, and removed his hat, revealing abnormally bright violet eyes. Just like the eye on that mystic pamphlet. “On my honor, you have no reason to be afraid.

Not here.” He held his hat to his chest and bent low at the waist in a bow, and then placed it back on his head. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Expecting me?” I switched my attention back to the woman beside him and the barrel of the gun pointed at me. “For what?

Target practice?”

Frenchy looked sharply at the amber-eyed woman. “Put the gun down,ma moitié! This girl is our guest!”

“She was snooping through your things,” Crazy said. “Plus, she smells strange.”

“I was notsnooping. I was . . . browsing. As for your second comment . . . ” I sniffed at my armpit. “I can’t defend myself there.

I’ve been running around a lot today and I nervous sweat.”

“I told you a special guest was arriving today,” Frenchy said to Crazy.

“You did not tell me that.”

“I left you a Post-it.”

“And you wonder why we have poor communication?”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat. Hearing these two loons bicker back and forth was the last thing I needed right now. As soon as I had an opening, I was gonna bolt.

Frenchy winced and transferred his weight to his other side, leaning differently on his cane. I wondered what sort of injury or disease he suffered from to need a cane at such a young age.

“Trixie is my security,” he explained. “I own many valuable items, and we’ve had a few break-ins over the years. She can get a little overly cautious.”

Crazy, now Trixie, tucked the weapon back into her belt. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” I squeaked.

“Wonderful, now we can all start over,” said the man. “You may call me Ace.” Frenchy, now Ace, offered me a hand. I hesitantly reached to shake it and he kissed the back of my knuckles. The press of his lips burned, like a Totino’s Pizza Roll straight out of the micro-wave. I wanted to sharply pull my hand back, when those electric violet eyes bore into mine, and I was held motionless. Every muscle in my body relaxed, all my worries and my guilt about Thomas sinking into a deep abyss.

“I already know who you are, Faith,” Ace said with a mischievous smile. “I know why you’ve come here too. People can’t hide much from me, you see.”

“You’re the psychic.”

“The psychic title is for the money.” He gently released my hand.

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