The Break-Up Psychic (15 page)

“Yes, well, I assure you that I, I mean Luanne, was very satisfied with the service. Thanks ever so much for stopping by! Really, come back any time,” I say, ushering Sam to the door.

Sam turns and walks ahead of me, stopping at the door to wave goodbye to Amber.

“Really, any time,” I say again, doing my best to vocally push him out of the shop.

“I may just take you up on that. Effie, was it?” he asks, teasing me.

“Ellie, actually.” He’s so going to pay for that later.

“Right, Ellie. I guess I forgot. You two ladies have a good night,” Sam says, smiling at us. His dimple winks devilishly at me before he turns to leave the shop. Once the chime over the door has fallen silent, I chance a look at Amber. She’s wearing the same shrewd expression Luanne fixed me with this morning.

“I’m going to ask you a question, Ellie, and I want you to promise you’re going to tell the truth.”

“Okay,” I say, fingers crossed behind my back.

“Are you dating that guy?”

“What? No! Of course not. I just broke up with Tim a few weeks ago so of course I’m not dating anyone. You’re such a silly-
billy
!”

Amber moves quickly and catches me in a vise-like grip, grabbing my shoulders to hold me in place. Her black rimmed eyes are truly terrifying. It’s like she can see into my soul. “First,” she says, quietly, “don’t call me a silly-
billy
. Ever again.”

Oh crap, she’s going to make me into a voodoo doll.

“Second, I want you to promise that you’re not now and have no intention of
ever
dating that guy.”

So she didn’t buy my little act with Sam. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. Stay away from him.”

“But why?” I ask, disturbed by the seriousness of her tone.

“He’s not a nice guy.”

“But he is nice. He’s sweet and attentive and I don’t know if you noticed it, but he’s got the cutest dimple on his right cheek. Did you see it? It winked at us when he left the shop.”

Amber shakes me somewhat violently then brings her face within inches of mine.

“Don’t fall for the dimple, Ellie. The dimple is bad.”

“It’s bad?”

“Yes, it’s a very bad dimple and it has sex with lots of girls it never calls again.”

“But it seems like a perfectly nice dimple. The kind that would rescue a girl when she’s lost her shoes and then would make her pancakes for breakfast.”

Amber shakes her head from side to side, her face stony and earnest. “Don’t fall for the dimple. That dimple has done more damage than my voodoo dolls ever could.”

I don’t want to believe what Amber’s telling me. She doesn’t even know Sam. How could she know his dimple’s up to no good? I spent the night with both of them and when I woke up this morning, wrapped in his strong embrace, I felt safe. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Amber’s intentions may be good for once, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“But—” I start.

Amber loosens her grip on my shoulders. “Listen, don’t make a big deal out of this, okay? But I sort of like you. I mean, I think of you as a friend or whatever. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Her touch is gentle and her face contorts strangely. On anyone else I would’ve recognized empathy immediately, but on Amber, it looks more like constipation.

“But—”

“But nothing. It was one thing with that tool-bag Tim. I knew you’d see him for what he was sooner or later and come out a stronger person, but this guy, Sam, he’s different. He’s got a reputation and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I feel like I must’ve fallen into a bizarre dream because I’ve never in my life heard Amber say so many nice things all at once. I bring my hands up to rest on hers and suddenly she’s like a frightened animal, her eyes scared and her body tense.

“Amber, honey, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

Amber jerks her hands from me, a mask of indifference sliding neatly across her face.

“Whatever,” she says. “You can do whatever you want; I was just trying to warn you.”

“Amber,” I say, attempting to make eye contact with her again.

“No, it’s cool, just forget I mentioned it. I’ll be in the stockroom scratching off the poison warnings.”

I watch Amber in her uniform of black clothes and spiky collar retreat to the back of the shop. Maybe she’s been eating too much of the flavored body powder. She’s wrong about Sam. He’s no womanizer. If all he wanted from me was a booty call, my psychic alarms bells would be dinging their butts off. She’s wrong and that’s all there is to it. She’s wrong. She has to be.

“I don’t know, I think the color clashes with your hickey.” Luanne, head titled sideways in thoughtful consideration, stands in the bedroom doorway watching as I try on the lavender Maid of Honor dress my mother sent by Fed Ex today.

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” I ask her.

“A junkyard dog would sooner let go of a
t-bone
steak.”

I’ve been trying to redirect Luanne away from the hickey by filling her in on my toe-assault. But she’s smelled blood and isn’t giving up.

“I know it wasn’t Dr. Scholl that gave you that love bite, so fess up. Who were you out playing tonsil-hockey with the other night?”

I know I’m going to have to tell her but I really, really don’t want to see the ‘I knew it,’ face. I put off the moment of truth and turn to assess myself in the full-length mirror. The soft purple color of the dress is a beautiful contrast to my pale, lightly-freckled skin and my wavy black hair. The dress is svelte, hugging my body and putting my curvy figure on full display. I gingerly touch the place where I know the hickey exists, covered by a heavy application of makeup. I hope it disappears before the wedding since the ceremony is outside and the summer heat is likely to melt away any cover job.

I glimpse Luanne’s reflection in the mirror as she walks behind me. She’s pacing, waiting for me to spill the beans. It’s not that I think her reaction to the news will be bad. She seems to like Sam and I know she wants me to be happy, but she’s been expecting this. She knows that regardless of my resolution to date simpler men, when it comes to a hot guy with a dangerous smile, I am a weak, weak girl.

“It was Sam,” I admit, spitting out the words like I’m tearing off a
band-aid
.

“Sam. As in motorcycle riding, lady loving, everything you said you didn’t want in a man, Sam James? Is that the Sam you’re talking about?”

As anticipated, Luanne’s expression is not so much shocked as it is nonplused. She knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from him, and she isn’t even psychic. “If you’re talking about the Sam James who runs a successful business and always acts in a most gentleman-like manner, then yes, it’s him.”

“Okay, fair enough. I just got one question. Where do giant hickeys rate on your gentleman scale from one to ten?”

“Lu, that’s so unfair.”

“So, like a two?”

“Will you give it a rest, please? I like him. I know I shouldn’t but I do, and I’m seeing him again tonight. Now, what do you think of the dress?”

Luanne falls on the bed and snaps up a magazine. “You look beautiful, as always,” she says, bored by my indecisiveness. “Who’re you
takin
’ to this shindig anyway, Mr. Gentlemanly Behavior?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I haven’t asked him yet. I don’t want to scare him off, asking him to come to a family wedding so soon. Do you think that’s moving too fast?”

“Only if it’s a surprise wedding and he’s the groom.”

I can’t help but giggle at that one. I guess I deserve a bit of ribbing. I did swear off bad boys only a few weeks ago and here I am, already back to my old tricks. I reach to unzip the side of the dress but stop when someone knocks at the door. Maybe Sam got off early and came to find out whether or not I’ve been committed to the loony-bin after that little show at the shop earlier.

I beat down the urge to rush the door and force my excited legs to carry me gracefully across the living room, the lavender dress shimmying against my body. A preview of me in this sexy dress might just entice him to be my plus one at my mom’s wedding. I run my hands through my hair, tossing the thick waves off my shoulders. As I turn the knob and pull open the door, I let a seductive smile settle on my lips. “Hey there…” The words catch in my throat and the smile falls away from my lips.

Standing in the hallway in an exquisitely cut fawn gray suit is Tim. My eyes dart from his beautifully styled blond head to the full-watt smile beaming back at me. He’s clenching a large bouquet of pink lilies in one hand and moving hungry eyes up and down my body.

“Hey, babe. Wow, you look amazing.”

I blink hard, trying to rid myself of the nightmare I’m surely experiencing. What is my lying, cheating, bastard of an ex-boyfriend doing standing in the hallway? He opens his arms to me, waiting for me to fall against him. I don’t.

“Why are you here?” I demand, finding my voice.

He switches up his smile, using the one he reserves for flight attendants when he wants an upgraded ticket. His teeth are perfectly straight and brilliantly white. My brain wants me to knock a few of them out, but my gut is tied up in knots. He looks fantastic. I’ve been holding onto the image of the last time I saw him, when he was disheveled and ashamed in the hallway outside our apartment. He didn’t look so great then. I guess I forgot what he normally looks like. Damn, is this what banging a masseuse does to a man?

“Listen, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but I miss you. I miss you like crazy and I know I made a huge mistake. What I did? I’m so sorry, and I need you to believe me when I say I never wanted to hurt you. That whole thing with Suzy? That’s over. It was never anything to begin with.”

His surprise visit has taken my breath away, and I feel dizzy. Hurt and confusion have replaced the excitement I felt when I thought it was Sam knocking on the door. I don’t want to hear about him and Suzy. I don’t want to hear that waxed bitch’s name ever again! “Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Tim raises his hand to reach out and touch me. I flinch and take a step backward. The move causes the smile to slip from his face. He drops the charm for a second and redirects his outstretched hand to move through his perfectly styled hair. “Listen, can I come in? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking over my shoulder for a sign of Luanne.

“Please, just one minute. I really need to talk to you.”

Despite his movie-star looks, he does look a bit…miserable. Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I’m really enjoying my small position of power over him. I take a reluctant step back and open the door wide enough for him to enter the apartment. He steps through and pushes the door almost closed behind him.

I feel so exposed, standing before him in my snug dress. I move to cross my arms over my chest and Tim takes a quick step toward me, placing a hand on my forearm. “Don’t,” he says. “You look so beautiful, Ellie.”

I step away from him. “Tim, I don’t know why you’re here but if it’s to get back together…”

“Please, hear me out,” he says, moving toward me.

I know I should keep moving, should keep distance between us, but I feel powerless to stop his advance. His cologne acts like a fog, muddling my ability to think clearly. I try concentrating on how I feel. Aching, excited…alarmed. Yes, there go the alarms, the dings reminding me that this man broke my heart, that he can’t be trusted.

“I was stupid, I was so incredibly stupid and I’m so, so sorry. I was an ass, I know that, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you back. You and I, we’re so good together.”

My brain finally gets the upper hand on my too-sentimental gut and I turn away, breaking the contact between us. “No,” I say, shaking my head from side to side, “we were not good together. You cheated on me and I couldn’t trust you.”

“Listen, I made a mistake, and it’s one I will never make again.”

I look over at him. His shoulders are hunched forward and his mouth is turned down in disappointment. His appearance, his words, they sound so sincere. But when I look into his eyes, his piercing blue eyes that lied so effortlessly to me, I know he’s still holding something back.

“Please, Ellie. Just give me another chance.”

I open my mouth to refute him, to tell him to leave me alone, but Luanne beats me to it.

“Like hell she will.” Luanne stomps into the room and comes to stand beside me, fists clenched on her hips and face harder than stamped-concrete.

“Luanne,” Tim starts, “just give me a—”

“I’ll give you about ten seconds to get the hell out of my apartment before I forget my Southern manners and make you cry like a little girl.”

Tim, hands held up in defense, looks to me for help. God, I’m so weak. I can’t help it. There’s still a part of me that wants him. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s wrong but there it is. I look over at Luanne and her eyes roll back in exasperation, maybe disgust. She shoots Tim a hate-filled stare then disappears back into the bedroom.