Believe It or Not (13 page)

“You certainly are,” Drew said, patting him on the shoulder before putting the car back in gear and pulling out onto the freeway. “I’ve already had calls from six bachelorette groups wanting to book private parties next month. This is the best marketing campaign we’ve come up with in years. Expensive as hell, but I think it’s going to pay off.”

Jamie beamed with pride as Drew drove the three of them back to the bar. He hadn’t stopped beaming all morning as he’d coached Jerry through the newest routine. It was only ten a.m., still hours before the bar opened for the day, but Jamie was taking his training job very seriously.

Drew wished he had a million Jamies.

“Don’t spread your legs like that,” Jamie called to Jerry. “That’s for female entertainers.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. No one wants to see that. You can shake your butt, though. Girls like that.”

“They do?”

“Trust me.”

Drew shook his head and flipped a page on his order. He needed the distraction this morning. Lord knows he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. The full moon had made it seem like daylight in his bedroom. He probably could have pulled the shades, but for some ridiculous reason, he wanted to look at the stars.

Damn Violet and her woo-woo astrology crap and her soft sweater, and her softer lips, so warm and inviting—

Drew shook his head again and scowled at the paper.
Dumb
idea, Watson
, he told himself.
You
heard
her
last
night. You’re not her type. God knows she’s not your type. After everything you went through with Catherine—

“Hey, boss?”

Drew looked up to see Jamie walking toward him, toweling off his broad shoulders as Jerry continued to gyrate on the corner stage to a cheesy George Michael song.

“What’s up, Jamie?”

“I have my reading now.”

“What are you reading?”

“No, I’m not reading… I mean I can read, but I’m kind of slow at it.”

“Oh, your psychic reading.” Drew nodded. “Right. That’s today?”

Of course it was today. Drew had developed a knack for knowing everything he could about Violet’s routine. He knew when she took lunch, what time she fed the mice, how she sometimes talked to herself when she thought no one could hear her.

Great, he was becoming a stalker.

“Right,” Jamie said. “So I was thinking I could take a break and go over there now.”

“Sure, Jamie. No problem. You’ve already put in plenty of overtime this week, so you can take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, boss. You’re the best. Anything you’d like me to tell Miss Violet for you?”

Drew thought about it. There were plenty of things he’d like to say to Violet, but Jamie wasn’t the messenger he’d choose to send.

“No message. But remember what we were saying about pants?”

“Pants?”

“Put some on. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Right, boss. Thanks.”

***

Violet was feeding a french fry to one of the mice when Jamie came striding in, looking beautifully obtuse and characteristically cheerful.

“Hello, Miss Violet,” he said, gripping her hand jovially. “I hope I’m not late?”

“Hey, Jamie. You’re right on time. Have a seat right over there.”

“Thanks!”

Violet smiled at him as she closed the mouse cage and took a seat in the opposite chair. “I’ve never seen you wearing pants before. You look very nice.”

“The boss told me that would be a good idea. I wasn’t sure about a shirt, so I left that off.”

“No problem. We’re not too strict about the dress code around here.”

Jamie smiled a little sadly. “I wish more restaurants were like that.”

Violet clasped her hands together and cleared her throat. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water or tea or anything?”

“No thanks. I’m just excited to get started.”

“Right. So, Jamie… is there anything in particular you’d like to ask about?”

“Are your breasts really real? Because one of the guys said something backstage the other night and I had to punch him because it was disrespectful, but—”

“I meant about you,” Violet clarified, shifting a little in her seat. “Do you have any questions you want to ask… um, for psychic purposes?”

Jamie looked confused. Violet sighed.

“Yes, my breasts are real,” she offered. “So is there anything in your life you want me to tell you about?”

Jamie beamed. “Well, I’m just wondering what my future holds.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, well, let me close my eyes and concentrate on reading your energy.”

“Do I need to close my eyes, too?”

“Sure. That helps.”

“Right. Okay. You’ll tell me when I can open them again?”

“Absolutely. All right, Jamie, before we begin, I just have a couple quick questions for you. Does Drew choose your music for your dance routines?”

“Sure, most of the time. Sometimes I pick, but he always has such good ideas and he knows so much about music.”

“That he does,” Violet agreed, feeling a little guilty. “Has he chosen anything new for you lately?”

“Oh, sure, lots of stuff. I have this cool new routine I do to that theme song from
Top
Gun
.”

“You mean the one by Kenny Loggins? ‘Danger Zone’?”

“That’s it. I get to use these flashlight things like the guys at the airport use to guide the planes in, you know? And a pilot uniform, but that comes off pretty fast.”

“Right. Any other songs?”

“Well, there’s this Aerosmith one we’ve been working on lately—‘Dream On’? We do this really cool thing with the black light and I wear this white costume with sequins on it and I have this thing I do on the pole where I go around and around and around and—”

“That sounds really cool. I’d like to see that sometime.”

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Watson would invite you.”

Violet felt a warm heat creep up her neck at the mention of Drew, but she tried to concentrate. This was Jamie’s reading, after all, and she owed it to him to focus.

You’re a fraud, you’re a fraud, you’re a fraud
, chanted Violet’s inner voice.

Violet cleared her throat. “So Jamie, I sense that you have some very big goals in life.”

“Uh-huh,” Jamie replied in a reverent tone.

“You have a lot of dreams, but something’s always holding you back from achieving those. Um, fear?”

“I’m not chicken.”

“No, of course not. Definitely not. But sometimes dreams come with certain risks. Danger, if you will.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed. “Danger.”

“But risks can be good. If it means achieving your goals, that is.”

Violet gritted her teeth, not sure what the hell she was driving at. Maybe she should have asked for more songs. Or maybe this was a ridiculous theory, this stupid thing with the music. Just a few silly coincidences.

There
are
no
coincidences
in
the
life
of
a
psychic, Violet.

Shut
up, Mom.

“So anyway, Jamie, I get the sense that you have big dreams that you need to pursue in life, and that achieving those dreams won’t necessarily be an easy thing.”

“You got that right,” Jamie said with a sigh.

“I did?”

“Sure. I mean, duh… You’re a psychic.”

“Oh. Of course. Anything else you’d like to know?”

“How soon should I do this? Chase my dreams and all?”

“Oh, as soon as possible. Really, life’s too short.”

God, you sound like a fucking fortune cookie
, she chided herself.

Mmmm, Chinese food sounds good.

Focus, Violet.

“Anyway, Jamie, you’re a good guy who’s capable of achieving a lot of great things in life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So dive in headfirst, do what you want to do, and you’ll reach your dreams before you know it.”

She opened her eyes to peer at him. He managed to look simultaneously amazed and befuddled, all with his eyes pinched tightly shut.

“Wow, Miss Violet. You’re really good.”

Violet tried to ignore her guilty conscience. All she’d really done was give him a pep talk. Nothing a motivational speaker wouldn’t have done.

You’re not a motivational speaker.

“Right, so Jamie… what other questions do you have?”

He opened his eyes and peered at her. “None. You did a really great job, Miss Violet. I know exactly what I need to do now.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I’ve got a plan and everything.”

“Great. That’s really great.”

“And I owe it all to you.”

Violet tried not to feel uneasy about that. “So Jamie, are you performing tonight?”

He broke into a wide grin. “Nah, tonight’s not a stripper night. I’m tending bar, though. You should stop by.”

“Maybe I will. I know Drew is really happy with all the work you do.”

“Yeah?” he said, beaming proudly.

“Definitely. He says you’re a really good teacher, too, with that new guy he hired, Jerry?”

“I could teach you.”

“Teach me what?”

“You know. Dancing. How to be a professional entertainer.”

“Oh.” Violet felt her face heat up. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, but I already have a job and everything.”

“This would give you something to fall back on.”

Violet felt herself start to smile. “Sure, in case the psychic accountant thing doesn’t work out.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I just… it’s not really me, you know?”

“Oh,” Jamie said, looking disappointed. “Because you’re smart and serious and stuff?”

“Well, I don’t know about that—”

“It’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. That was really dumb. I always do dumb stuff like that.”

“No, it wasn’t dumb at all. Really, Jamie, I’m flattered you’d offer.”

He gave her a hopeful smile. “So you want to try?”

“Oh… well…”

“Just a few moves,” Jamie said, standing up and extending a hand. “It’s the least I can do for all the help you’ve given me.”

Violet looked up into his earnest face, so trusting, so sweet, so very hopeful.

You
owe
me
big
for
this, Moonbeam
, she thought, and took Jamie’s hand.

Violet was just tidying up after her last reading of the evening when she heard the front door chime. She looked up to see Chris Abbott standing in the doorway with a self-conscious smile and a small bouquet of tulips.

“So this is where the magic happens,” he said, stepping toward her. “Literally, I suppose.”

“Hey, Chris! What brings you out here?”

“I was just heading home from the hospital and I realized I’d never actually seen Moonbeam’s place of business.”

“You always travel with tulips?” she asked, offering what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. “Or did you steal those from one of your patients?”

Chris laughed, flashing a single dimple in his left cheek. “She was out cold, so she’ll never miss them.”

“I hope you stole her Jell-O, too.”

“Absolutely.” Still smiling, he handed the tulips to Violet. “Actually, I saw them in the window of the flower shop across the street and thought you might like them. The color reminds me of your eyes.”

“In that case, I’m glad they aren’t red roses.” Violet sniffed them and then felt dumb.
Tulips
don’t have a smell, do they?

“Let me find a vase for these,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She headed toward the small kitchenette in the corner behind a gauzy curtain and found a little vase she filled with water. As she snipped off the ends of the stems, she glanced back at Chris through the opening in the curtain. He looked very sophisticated, leaning against the counter. Educated and kind and very successful. Exactly the sort of man she’d always pictured herself with. She snipped another tulip stem and silently resolved to do a better job of falling for him. Whatever the hell that entailed.

“So you’ve never been here before?” Violet called over her shoulder.

“Never visited a psychic at all, if you can believe it. Well, unless you count the palm reader at my sixth-grade school carnival.”

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Violet finished arranging the flowers and turned around, parting the curtain as she moved toward the front counter to set the vase down. “I’d offer you a tour, but this is pretty much it. We do readings right here in these chairs, and you can see all the merchandise for sale. Over there is where I do my accounting work.”

She looked at Chris, taking in the soft, sandy hair, the warm brown eyes. She felt something stir inside her. Was it lust? Not exactly. Hunger, maybe? She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She smiled up at him.

“Any chance you’d want to go grab Chinese food?”

Chris laughed. “And here I was trying to come up with a creative way to ask you out without seeming like I was assuming you didn’t have anything better to do than accept last-minute dinner invitations.”

Violet shrugged. “Moonbeam’s busy doing a past-life-regression class for a couple of her nurses, and I already painted my toenails last night. I don’t have much else going on.”

“In that case, I’d love to accompany you. Any place in particular?”

“Fong Chong. You know where it is?”

“No, but I’ll drive if you give directions.”

“Deal.”

Violet took a few moments to lock up before following Chris out to his car. He beeped the locks and opened the passenger door for her.

“Thanks,” Violet said, and settled herself into the buttery leather seat. She quickly flipped down the visor and checked her makeup, grateful she’d touched up her lipstick earlier.

Chris got behind the wheel and turned over the engine. Violet gave him a few quick directions and he pointed the car northwest toward Chinatown. Violet watched the old brick buildings slip past, remembering the heady rush of skipping school on a rainy afternoon, biting into a steaming dumpling at her favorite corner table.

“How long did you say you’ve been in Portland?” Violet asked.

“Almost four years. I guess I haven’t been adventurous enough to explore this area. I didn’t even know there
was
a Chinatown in Portland.”

“You’ll love this place. It gets written up in all the travel magazines. It’s just a couple blocks from the Portland Classical Chinese Gardens. We could visit there after dinner if you like.”

“That sounds nice.”

Violet smiled.
Nice.
Exactly.
Nice
was a good thing. “Turn right here on Fourth and just park along the curb. There’s a spot up there, if you don’t mind walking a couple blocks.”

“I don’t mind a bit.”

Violet watched as Chris executed the perfect parallel park before getting out and walking around to open her door. They fell into step together, and Violet felt his fingers brush hers. She held her breath, waiting for the tingle to start as he took her hand in his. Her hand was definitely getting warmer. Did that count as tingle?

He held the restaurant door for her and a waitress led them to a small table in the middle of the room before bustling away. Violet watched another server move through the room with a large cart laden with steaming food.

Chris touched her hand. “Tell you what. You’re in charge. Just order whatever you think is good.”

Violet laughed. “A man who’s not afraid to hand over the reins.”

She hadn’t meant it to sound as suggestive as it did, but Chris just smiled at her and unfolded his napkin in his lap. Violet felt herself relax as the waitress approached with a cart piled with dim sum and a mountain of other delicacies for them to choose from.

Violet began to point out items on the cart. She picked out dumplings filled with shrimp and cabbage, a plate of sautéed broccoli greens, sliced barbecue pork,
shumai
,
dai
jee
gow
, and several more plates heaped with rice and noodles.

“Wow,” Chris said once the waitress had unloaded their chosen plates and wheeled away the half-empty cart. “I have no idea what most of this is, but it looks delicious.”

Violet pointed her chopsticks at a pinkish looking dim sum. “That’s
har
go
—the bay shrimp make it pink. The ones on the carrots are filled with scallops. I’m not sure what’s in that one—”

“I’m sure it’s all great,” Chris said, and picked up a fork.

Violet reached for her chopsticks and picked up a piece of shrimp, wondering if she should have brought cue cards to keep the conversation flowing. Okay, so things were a little slow. Did that really matter? And did it matter that she didn’t want to crawl into his lap and lick soy sauce off his neck? Lust was the last thing she needed clouding her judgment right now.

“So it looks like Moonbeam will get to go home soon,” Chris said as he forked up a piece of barbecue pork.

“She’ll probably spend a little while in that outpatient-rehab place first. Butterfly—that’s Mom’s best friend—and I are meeting with the occupational therapist tomorrow to go through the house and decide what furniture needs to be moved around, whether we need any adaptive devices, that sort of thing.”

“Your mom is really lucky to have you. Not just the shopping and the hospital visits, but the way you stepped in to keep her business afloat.”

“Well, she’s my mom. She’s nuts, but I love her.”

Chris nodded and looked at her thoughtfully. “It can’t be easy stepping into someone else’s psychic practice and just taking over like that.”

If
you
only
knew
, Violet thought, and forked up a piece of broccoli. “I’m doing okay.”

“Really, it’s very admirable. I know Moonbeam appreciates it. And she’s so proud of you. She talks about your psychic skills all the time.”

Violet set down her chopsticks and picked up her tea, downing it in two quick gulps. She tried to swallow her unease the same way, but it wasn’t working. What was her problem, anyway? First she was annoyed with Drew for his constant teasing, for being such a skeptic about her mom. About
her
.

But now she was feeling irritated at Chris for his fascination with it, for finding all this psychic stuff so damn intriguing.

Honestly, there was no pleasing her.

Violet picked up her chopsticks again, trying to refocus on the conversation. She was on a date with an eligible doctor. She should be ecstatic.

“So, Chris,” Violet said, giving him a pleasant smile. “You said something the other night about wanting to move back East eventually?”

“Absolutely,” Chris said, taking a sip of tea. “I like it out here, and the medical community is great, but you know how it is. My parents are getting older, and so I want to be closer to them.”

“Sure,” Violet said, and felt a sharp pain somewhere around her spleen. She didn’t like to think of Moonbeam getting older. In her mind, Moonbeam was still a free-spirited thirtysomething, swathed in tie-dye and holding a picket sign outside a shop selling fur coats.

“So you’d be returning to New Hampshire?” Violet asked.

“Not necessarily. Everything’s so close together back East that it doesn’t really matter whether I’m in New Hampshire or Rhode Island or Vermont or even upstate New York. I’ll still be close enough to visit my parents regularly.”

Violet nodded and poked a dumpling with her chopsticks. “That’s one of the things that seemed so funny when I first moved to Maine. It takes eight or nine hours to drive east to west across Oregon, but you can cross most East Coast states in half that time.”

“Traffic permitting,” Chris added, taking a sip of water.

“True. Actually, the best thing about coming home is that I can see the mountains, the desert, the rain forest, and the beach all in the same state.”

Chris gave her a quizzical look. “You still think of Oregon as home?”

Violet stared for a moment, retracing her steps in the conversation. She hadn’t realized she’d used that term until just that moment. She took a sip of tea and considered the question. She hadn’t lived here for almost twenty years. She’d been so eager to get away after high school, so determined to start her own life as far away from Moonbeam as she could.

Since when had she considered this home?

“Sometimes,” Violet said cautiously.

Chris nodded and finished polishing off the barbecue pork. “It’s a nice place,” he said. “Your mom sure has a great location. I didn’t realize until I saw it today that she’s in such a nice part of town.”

“She’s been there for thirty years.”

“It’s funny, in most places that wouldn’t be the case. Psychic studios and strip clubs and adult stores would be out on skid row or something.”

Violet laughed. “Welcome to Portland. Or should I say
Porn
land.”

“Pornland?”

“It’s the running joke here. Oregon has the second-highest concentration of strip clubs in the nation.”

“No kidding? What about San Francisco, Reno, Vegas…”

“Nope. We’ve got ’em beat.”

Chris laughed. “You sound so proud.”

Violet frowned down at her plate. Did she? That was new. Hadn’t she spent most of her adulthood fleeing the odd?

Fortunately, she was saved from having to contemplate that further when a young woman arrived toting a little silver tray topped with two cellophane-wrapped cookies and the check. Chris picked up the latter without comment and held the tray out to Violet.

“You choose,” he offered.

Violet shrugged and grabbed the cookie closest to her. She unwrapped it carefully, trying not to break the dainty edges. She split the cookie in half, careful not to get cookie pieces all over her black silk blouse. She unfolded the tiny piece of paper and looked at it.

“‘You will get what your heart desires,’” Violet read.

Chris gave her a meaningful look. Violet felt herself flush.

“Interesting,” Chris said.

“Oh, please,” she said, setting the paper aside. “Who doesn’t get what they want at least occasionally?”

“Certainly, but it says what your
heart
desires.”

“Whoever writes these things knows exactly how to do it so anyone off the street could think it applies to them.”

“The cynical psychic,” Chris said with a laugh. “You should put that on business cards.”

Violet laughed. “What does yours say?”

Chris cracked open his cookie and brushed the crumbs into his palm. He deposited them onto his plate before unfolding the little scrap of paper.

“‘You will receive a letter from far away,’” he read.

“Going out on a limb with that one,” Violet said with a snort. “It’s the electronic age. How often do people receive letters from someone in the same town?”

Chris grinned. “I get it. The psychic is threatened by the fortune cookie. Worried it makes the whole fortune-telling business look bad?”

Violet folded her hands together and looked at him. “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

***

It was nearly ten p.m. by the time Chris pulled up to the curb in front of Moonbeam’s shop. Violet turned and smiled at him, oddly grateful she’d left her rental car here so she wouldn’t have to play out this scene on the front porch of her mother’s house.

“I had a really great time, Chris.”

“Me too. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Anytime.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Give me a call.”

Violet bent forward and picked up her purse at her feet. When she sat back up, Chris was leaning close with a look that told her to expect more than a kiss on the cheek this time.

“Violet?”

“Hmm?”

“May I kiss you?”

Violet stifled a flicker of annoyance. He was asking permission? Hardly a sign of great passion. He was so overwhelmed by his desire for her that he paused to make a polite request?

He’s a gentleman
, Violet scolded herself, and offered an encouraging smile. “Of course.”

Chris reached out to cup her chin in his hand. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Violet tried to think of what to do with her hands. Should she run her fingers through his hair? Touch his shoulder?

She tried to relax as his lips moved against hers, soft and obviously skilled. Violet tried to focus on the warm pressure of his fingertips against her shoulder, the pleasant scent of his aftershave. She kissed him back, ignoring the fact that her pulse wasn’t pounding. It wasn’t as if she needed to have a stroke every time she brushed lips with a man.