Page 12 of Who's Your Daddy
“My father didn’t have a psychic,” Sully growls.
I have to hold back a laugh at the absurdity.
My father would never.
Me, on the other hand? I’m curious. So I take a step closer, once again transfixed by the snake.
“He did, and she’s our third-floor tenant,” Brian explains, using the even tone he perfected years ago when speaking to or in front of clients.
“Rent control,” she singsongs, “it’s a beautiful thing.”
“There’s no lift in this building.” Sully narrows his eyes on the woman. “You climb three flights of stairs everyday?”
The woman tilts her head, appraising him with a hint of a smirk. “Your energy is all off.” Her words are knowing, her voice serious. “I fear you’ll never get her to forgive you if you don’t let go of all that anger.”
My brother huffs and takes a step back, ducking an instant before he slams into a light fixture. “What is she talking about?”
“Seems like a pretty good psychic to me,” I mumble, still studying the ring.
The older woman smiles. “Thank you. Your energy is much brighter. Though this apartment needs plants—lots of them—to really cleanse the atmosphere. Also, caring for plants will help you practice being a dad.”
My heart stutters. “Someone get this woman a chair, she’s bloody brilliant.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” Sully rumbles, gripping his forehead. Shit. It won’t be long before he’s complaining that I’m giving him a migraine.
“I was so sorry to hear about your father’s passing,” she says, her lips turned down in a sincere frown. “I told him to watch out for ginger.”
A gasp works its way out of me. “Is that why he was always so weird when I brought sushi into the office?”
Brian shuts his eyes and groans.
She shrugs. “Probably.”
“Lotta good you did him.” Sully grunts. “He was with a woman named Ginger when he had the heart attack.”
I clap a hand over my mouth and drag it down to keep my expression neutral. Yes, my father was having sex with a twenty-four-year-old named Ginger Days when he died. Doesn’t get more cliché than that.
“Maybe be more specific next time.”
She gives my brother a patronizing smile. “I only see what I see.” Hips swaying and her bracelets jangling, she dances around the flat. She sweeps her hands through the air and fluttersher fingers. “And what I see is a whole lot of good coming from this move.” She spins around and holds up a finger. “But to be on the safe side, stay away from women named Ginger.”
“Hell,” Sully mutters.
“But sex wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you.” She gives him a wry look. “Might clean out your chakras.” She turns that expression on Brian. “Same with you.”
When she turns to me, I grin. I definitely don’t need my chakras cleaned out, thank you very much. “You should probably abstain for a while.” She waves a hand up and down my body. “At least until she’s ready.”
My head snaps. “Untilwho’sready?”
She’s already heading to the door. “Welcome to the building, boys. Oh, and if you see a man with tattoos up and down his arms, just leave him be. His name is Sebastian and he’s not here for you. He’s here for me.”
I’m still trying to decipher her comments when my brother curses behind me. “Is this the only bathroom?”
I turn and follow his voice. When I find him, he’s standing in a locker room-style bathroom with three sinks lined up beneath a clouded, broken mirror. On one end of the room are two small stalls with doors and one larger stall with the door hanging half off its hinges, and on the other side is a plastic shower curtain that looks like it’s seen better days.
“Maybe?” Brian answers. “At least there’s more than one toilet.” He pushes one door open with a creak and peers in. Quickly, though, he rears back, his entire body shuddering. “That needs to be cleaned.”
“How many bedrooms?” I mutter as I come to terms with the reality of our situation.
