Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
We all push a couple tables together. I upright a ketchup bottle that knocks over.
Chairs creak as people begin to sit. I choose a spot at the end, and Maximoff takes a seat beside me. Oscar and Jane in front of us. Seating arrangement isn’t that random. We’re the furthest away from Thatcher and Charlie.
Patricia plants her hands on the table. Bent towards Jack. “We only have three things on the menu, boys.” She notices Jane and Sulli. “And ladies. Barbecue chicken, our nightly stew, and sour cream and raisin pie. Only one beer on draft, and we have some cold Fizz drinks.”
“I’ll try the pie,” Sulli says first.
Everyone else orders the barbecue chicken, sodas and water. We begin talking about music as “Folsom Prison Blues” starts booming. Then beads smack an entryway, a figure slinking dramatically through like she’s auditioning to play Madonna.
I balance back on two chair legs, thoroughly entertained.
“What the…” Beckett trails off, his brows cinched.
Smoky purple makeup shadows her eyes, and she aims for our table.
Patricia motions to the woman. “This is Fontina the Fortunate, my sister-in-law. All readings complimentary with your meals. Good luck, and I’ll be back with your drink and food.”
Oscar mutters to me, “Yeah, I’m not feeling this place.”
“Good luck?” Jane repeats and exchanges a wary look with Maximoff.
The other end of the table is quiet and curious. Mine is about to self-eject. Minus me. This shit is harmless.
But I understand how protective Jane and Maximoff are towards their cousins and siblings. I’m sure they don’t want a stranger telling them that they’re about to die. Or that their future is bleak and miserable.
Fontina slinks around us, her manicured nails skating across the backs of our chairs. “I feel a strong energy in the room.”
Sitting backwards on his chair, Donnelly smokes another cigarette. “It’s me, right? I know I’ve got some strong ass energy.”
“That’s just your breath,” Oscar quips.
Donnelly blows him a middle-finger kiss.
“No, no, it’s not you.” Fontina circles the table. Eyelids hovering closed, she sucks in a breath through her nostrils. “It’s here.” She waves a hand towards my end. “No, wait…” She wavers.
I can’t help but fucking smile.
Patricia carries out our drinks, setting them down, and once she leaves, Fontina reanimates and places a hand on Sulli’s head.
Maximoff goes rigid.
Sulli tries not to laugh.
“You, dear,” Fontina muses.
“Yeah?” Sulli says.
“I sense…strong feelings around you. A destiny that you cannot control.”
Vague.
Beckett makes a that’s utter bullshit face.
Sulli contemplates this hard. “In what fucking way? Like swimming or…?”
“Love,” Fontina says.
“But I’ve never been in love,” Sulli mentions.
“I know, dear.”
“Because she just told you,” Beckett says pointedly, and Charlie smiles, halfway slouched in his chair.
Fontina ignores him and puts another hand on Sulli’s head. “You’re a determined spirit, a go-getter, and many admire that…but there’s a man who protects you most strongly…” Her hands drift to Sulli’s cheeks, and Sulli stiffens, about 70% uncomfortable. “And you will fall—”
“No one’s fucking falling,” Maximoff interjects, forearms on the table to have a better view of his cousin.
Fontina lets go of her and circles the table, and Sulli mouths, thanks to Maximoff. Grateful for redirecting the spotlight.
I still teeter on my chair legs and fold a straw paper.
“You two…” Fontina muses, her hand hovering above my head and Maximoff’s. “Powerful forces…connect you two in this life…and your past lives…”
A smile edges across my mouth, and I ask, “How much did he love me in our past lives?”
She sucks in a breath, channeling.
Maximoff blinks at me like I’ve asked a question that just sent him to hell. Also, he’s struggling not to look at my lips.
“…great, great love,” she muses. “It was…always you.”
Maximoff is almost flushed, his body unmoving. Rigid. He tunes out the audience of his family and security, and he stares at the table.
Wolf scout.
Normally he has a comeback, but I can tell he’s lost for a retort. I drop my chair legs and discreetly put a hand on his knee.
He’s still a marble statue.
“That’s beautiful,” Jane says, “and you can read them without tarot cards?”
“Mmmhhhmm,” Fontina answers. “I have an intuitive soul.”
Maximoff takes a swig of water and says genuinely, “That’s interesting.”
Fontina smiles, but then she frowns deeply and seizes my gaze. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”
The air deadens. I’m not even sure if I believe this shit.
“Weird,” Donnelly says.
I’m still actively looking for multiple people. The stalker, the leaker—and my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. I reach for my cell.
“You’ll find them soon, very soon…” Fontina trails off as the waitress waltzes to our table with a large tray of food. The fortuneteller says silkily, “Enjoy your meal.” Then she leaves through the beaded entryway.
Jane asks the waitress, “How accurate is your sister-in-law with her readings?”
“I’d say about half is complete bull.” Patricia wipes her hands on her apron. “But she slides some truth in there every now and then. Need anything else?”