Page 121 of Power of the Mind

“I know. Mind control isn’t a thing. But—”

“Goodbye, Tallus.”

“Eleven people,” I shouted. “Not one or two. Eleven people are dead.” But Memphis had hung up.

“Oh, bitch. You be pissing me off.” I changed lanes and hit the gas. “Hey, Google, text Memphis.”

Once the annoying AI bot was listening, I spoke as clearly as possible. “Do not drink the Kool-Aid. I repeat. Do not drink the Kool-Aid.”

The message sent.

I waited.

Memphis didn’t text back.

I was about to go ballistic when, at a red light, my phone rang. I answered without acknowledging the caller ID. “Bitch, I’m gonna haul your ass out of there and slap it until it’s red and raw and not in the way you like. You will not be begging for more. You’ll be begging for me to show mercy, and I won’t.

“Then, I’m going to force you to put on polyester underwear so you chafe and itch. We both know how sensitive your beanbag is, baby. When you’re good and miserable, I will buy a family-size bag of Oreos, double-stuffed, open them, and leave them on your counter. We both know you’re gonna eat the whole fucking pack because you have no self-control. And, baby, sweetheart, those cookies will go straight to your thighs. When you’re bloated and feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll call What’s His Name at the shoestore and tell him you need company and girl, I’m going to hang around and watch the show go down because you know I can’t say no to live entertainment. What do you think of that?”

I weaved around a pretentious F250, checking my rearview to be sure I’d cleared his front end before swinging back into my original lane.

“Nothing to say?” I asked.

Deep breathing resonated through the line, deeper than was fitting for Memphis. Only one person I knew had a chest as rumbly as the one suggested through the phone. Only one person could project irritation and hostility with nothing more than inhales and exhales.

“Oh shit.”

I darted a quick glance at the dark phone screen, hitting a button to light it up, and found Diem’s name.

“Oh boy. D? Is that you?”

“Beanbag?”

“Memphis’s playful nickname for his ball sack. I’m not personally acquainted with it. I mean, I was once. A long time ago. Are you still there?”

“Oreos?”

“I can grab a bag for later if you want. Can I borrow five bucks? I barely have enough for gas.”

More controlled breathing.

“Guns, I’d love to play charades, but now isn’t a good time. If I don’t hurry my ass up, Memphis will get to Rowena’s first, and although the rendezvous I planned with Madame Blair Witch isn’t that important, I feel obligated to see it through, if for no other reason than Memphis is pissing me off.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“Yeah. I didn’t listen. You put me in charge, and I made an executive decision.”

“I think I found stuff that may be relevant?”

“You did?” I took the next exit leading to Rowena’s.

“Janek’s got a new kid working for her.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but this was Diem, and I got nothing more.

“Okay.” I upped my speed, checking the time and cursing. “That’s nice. Good for him.”

“The kid he replaced was fired last week.” Diem paused as though waiting for me to absorb or understand something he wasn’t explaining.

---