Page 27 of Obsession

“Our next step. You’re not going by yourself this time. Got it?”

“For some reason you’re under the misconception that you’re the boss of me.” I bristle like a mad porcupine.

“I’m going to boss you on this one, my possession.” He grabs my chin with glowing eyes and gives me a peck.

“Still not your possession,” I say crossly, but he’s already vanished.

“It’s extremely difficult to have an argument with someone who can pop in and out of existence,” I gripe to Elvis.

He responds by leaving the room.

“Not you too!” I call after him. “All you kings need to realize whose queendom you’re in!”

Chapter 13

Pulling into a spot at the airport’s short-term parking, I flip through the radio as I wait on my aunt. Grandma’s a smoker, and while she doesn’t smoke in the shop or in the apartment, she puffs like a freight train in her car. Aunt Callie refuses to ride with her. She’s been on Grandma for years telling her to quit. Grandma says she’ll give up her bad habit when Aunt Callie gives up her bad habit of god-awful men. That usually puts an end to the conversation.

Several minutes pass, and I finally spot my aunt carrying a small duffel. “You should teach Amelia the art of minimalist packing.” I greet her with a big hug. Aunt Callie’s a beautiful woman in her early forties with strawberry-blonde hair and glowing skin. Maybe it’s due to all that green goop she drinks, but glowing skin isn’t enough of an incentive to convert me. She’s wearing a tank and flowing white skirt with an assortment of crystals on her wrists and around her neck, looking fresh as a daisy for just coming off an international flight.

“No one can teach that old dog new tricks.” Her eyes go wide. “Don’t you dare tell anyone I called her old!”

“Never,” I promise. “I missed you. How was the meditation retreat?”

“Sweetie, I missed you too. It was good. I needed some time to clear my head.”

“You know what Eiael did wasn’t your fault,” I tell her as I drive us home.

She gives a noncommittal grunt and changes the subject. “So how are things with you?”

“Good. I’ve just been thinking a lot about my mama here lately. Do you know anything about her coven?”

“I don’t. By the time Cora moved to New Orleans, I was already living out in California. My ex-husband isolated me, because that’s what narcissistic control freaks do. I’m ashamed to say I lost touch with Cora, and that’s on me,” she says sadly.

“What about my daddy? Do you know who he is?” I’ve asked her before, but I’m hoping this time she’ll have a different answer.

“Sweetie, you know I don’t. But if Cora didn’t want anyone to know who he was, then maybe you shouldn’t go looking for trouble.” She laughs bitterly. “Although, I’m probably the last person to be doling out personal advice.”

Her phone buzzes and she looks at the message and then slips it back in her bag. And then it buzzes again. And again. And again.

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” I ask.

She sighs. “Don’t tell Mama. It’s Craig. He’s out of prison. I was hoping I would still be out of the country when he was released. Or even better, he’d forget all about me.”

“Is your ex going to be a problem?” I met Craig once and knew right away he was trouble with a capital T. Yeah, so my aunt doesn’t have the best track record. Neither does her ex, hence the felon status. But I’m not one to talk about exes, as my track record ain’t that hot, either.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”

Returning home, I leave Aunt Callie to unpack and head downstairs. Grandma’s ringing up a customer, so I take a moment to update Memphis Magic’s social media account with this month’s featured crystal. Grandma does not have access to the account, because Goddess only knows what she’d post. Choosing a sunstone from the crystal section, I take it upstairs and outside to the rooftop patio to get a nice shot. The sunstone is a beautiful white crystal with orange coloring that glitters in the sun, hence its name. Returning downstairs, I give it a little writeup and then post.

“You should really let me be in charge of the social media account. Let me liven it up and really create a buzz,” Grandma says.

“No thank you, lest our business be confused with a brothel instead of a metaphysical shop. I’d prefer the police not come knocking on our door.”

“Unless it’s that sexy detective Chris who’s doing the knocking,” she says with a whistle.

I ignore her as I busy myself dusting the shelves. “When Aunt Callie comes down here, please don’t bring up Eiael and her horrible judgment when it comes to men.”

“And why not?”

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