Page 3 of Power of the Mind

Memphis kicked me in the ribs. “They are not. There’s gold. You just can’t see it.”

“I can see gold, and I’m telling you, there isn’t any. You’re delusional.”

“Shut up. I like the shirt.”

“So you’re going to a psychic to get permission to buy a shirt?”

“No, I’m going because I want to know what the future has in store for me… and if it so happens to hold a sexy older man with a fat pocketbook, then new clothes are a given.”

“I don’t get you. At the club, you are all about the prepubescent boys who’ve recently moved out of Mommy and Daddy’s house, but now you’re dreaming about older men?”

“With fat pocketbooks.”

“And what’s up with you and Antoine? He’s… weird.”

“Says the man who basks in the attention of a certified stalker.” Memphis made a sweeping gesture at the window.

I didn’t have a comeback. He was right.

“Besides, club boys have a purpose. They’re eager little bunnies when it comes to sex. I’ll eat that up any day of the week, but if I’m going to meet Mr. Right—and I’m not getting any younger, sweetie, so it better happen soon—he needs to be older and hold a decent job because this girl has spending habits that will someday bankrupt her.”

I sighed. “Same.”

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“No. I hardly have money for groceries. I can’t afford a pointless psychic reading.”

Memphis jabbed me with his toes again. “It’s not pointless. Stop being difficult. Are you afraid she’ll warn you off the dark, ominous shadow who’s been following you around endlessly?”

Yes.

“No. Even if she did, I don’t believe in psychics.”

“Antoine said—”

“I don’t care what Antoine said. Antoine is a freak. It’s a hoax. A money grab. I can’t believe you’re contemplating going.”

“I’m not contemplating. Iamgoing, and it’s not a hoax.” Memphis sat upright as he pulled his phone out and shuffled closer. “Look at her Google reviews. She has thousands. Also, as a psychic healer, she helps cure physical illnesses once thought to be incurable.”

“Like Antoine’s insomnia?”

“Exactly. I stayed at his house the other night, and he slept like a baby.”

“Yeah. After you gave him a blow job.”

“No… Maybe. Girl, it was the psychic who cured him.”

“You believe that shit?”

“Why not?”

“A psychic can’t do that.”

“So you’re calling thousands of people liars?” He motioned to his phone. “It’s a major part of her practice. She identifies and cleanses negative energies from your body. Energies that make you sick. She removes harmful spiritual attachments. These little ghostly nuisances don’t mean to be there, but when a person dies, sometimes they cling to a living person and suck their juju. This woman can get rid of them.”

“Are you listening to yourself?”

Huffing, Memphis handed me the phone. “You think I’m kidding? Read some of the reviews and tell me I’m wrong. She has a website.”

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