“Oh, thank God,” said a familiar voice.
“So, how long did it take this time?” I asked.
So, when I heard the familiar voice, it was a pleasant surprise...and a bit of a break. I’d just dealt with a longwinded woman who would rather hear herself talk, than me. Which was fine. I wasn’t getting a good read on her, anyway, and was questioning what I was telling her. I hated when that happened.
“Took me nine tries this time,” he said. “And cost me fifty bucks to finally get you.”
“I’m an expensive date,” I said.
“Well, it’s as close to a date as I can get. For now.”
“Forever,” I said, laughing, although I admired his persistence. “You know my rules.”
“You don’t date clients. Plus, you have to say that because they might be listening.”
“Well, they might fire me. And I happen to like this job.”
“You have to say that, too, because they might still be listening.”
I laughed at that. I was sitting on my couch with my legs crossed under me, sipping on a decaf Americano. If I wasn’t drinking a protein drink, I often drank decaf before and during sessions. Caffeinated drinks made my mind race just enough that I couldn’t tune into the spiritual. In fact, it was a rare day that I actually did have caffeinated coffee. And when I did, I almost always regretted it. I’d become used to connecting to what I thought of as my higher self. This connection was deeply spiritual, and it allowed for some fantastic results, especially when I was tuning into another person. I suspected that it was my higher self that tuned into others, and then reported its findings to me. Caffeine cut off that connection. Not good.
My sliding glass door was open. A bee had found its way inside and came right over to me. I said howdy, then ignored it completely. When it was done checking out the crazy lady in the headset, it found its way out again.
“They’re not listening now,” I said.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I checked again how I felt about that, and a certain knowing came over me. “I’m pretty sure.”
“That’s good enough for me. So, what are you wearing, baby?”
I laughed. “Nothing you would be interested in.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.”
“Don’t be creepy,” I said.
I liked Conn. In fact, I was very intrigued by Conn. I got a very good feeling from him. A warm feeling that I couldn’t deny. Conn was also a Scorpio, and I knew that you had to keep Scorpios in check. It was easy—very, very easy—for them to turn something fun and light into something steamy and sexual. It was in their natures. God bless their natures.
“Sorry,” he said. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I know Conn liked to present small openings, always hoping I would jump into them. I never did, although I admired his persistence. And, again, God bless those randy Scorpios. They kept things interesting.
“Forgiven,” I said. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”
“Do I have to have a reason to call?” he said. “Perhaps I just need to hear your voice.”
“Perhaps you need to get a life.”
“I do have a life,” said Conn. “I’m just missing one thing.”
“A cat?” I asked.
“You,” he said after a moment.
I snorted at that. “You are such a goofball, Conn. You’ve never even met me.”
“We can change that, you know. I could meet you tonight for drinks.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Yes, I know,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “If this is the only way I can spend time with my dream girl, then I will accept my lot in life. Better a few minutes a week with you, Allison, than no time at all.”
I was touched again by his words. “It’s your money,” I said after a moment, although my tone was now much softer. “Do what you want with it.”
“I am,” he said, “and I can think of no greater way to spend it than by spending time with you.”
“Geez, Conn, have you always been such a romantic fool?”
He thought about that. Little did he know that I could see him thinking about it, that I could see him now sitting in his rather lavish home overlooking the Pacific. That I could see that he was, in fact, everything he claimed to be, and perhaps even more. Never did he mention his money, of which he clearly had a lot. I knew his address, too, and I knew his home inside and out. Yes, I’d even checked out his attic and under his floorboards. No bodies. He wasn’t a creep. He wasn’t a sicko. He was just lonely.
Or perhaps, as he claimed, in love with me.
That he was also somewhat handsome made things all the more interesting. Of course, he knew none of this, knew nothing of the snooping I’d performed. And, thank God, he mostly wore clothes when he called me.
We chatted some more, about my day, about me, about anything that came to his mind. He paid, of course, for every minute of it. I suspected he could have talked to me all day, and, for some reason, I didn’t mind that. Not one bit.
He was halfway through a story about his dog—a dog I could see sitting by his feet now—when I felt a disturbance. Someone had picked up. One of them.
“Thank you for the call, Conn,” I said, cutting him off. “I hope I was of service to you today.”
After two months, Conn knew the routine. “You were incredibly accurate, Allison. Never in all my life have I ever come across a psychic more accurate than you.”
Oh, brother, I thought. One thing Conn was good at doing was pouring it on.
He clicked off and I sat back on my couch, decaf Americano in hand, and smiled.
Chapter Eight
It was early afternoon, and I was at The Whisper Lounge at The Grove with my friend, Bernice.
And, no, we weren’t whispering. Truth was, we rarely whispered. I didn’t think we knew how to whisper. On second thought, I didn’t think they much liked us here at The Whisper Lounge.
Anyway, Bernice Jepson was a fairly new friend of mine. I called her Bernie because it suited her better. She had been my trainer at The Psychic Hotline. As in, I sat in on some of her phone calls and made notes. As I made notes and listened in on a few days of her taking calls from clients, one thing had become rather apparent: Bernie was not a very good psychic.
As in, she rarely, if ever, got anything right. She had made an art out of backing out of her statements, re-wording and charging along by distracting the clients with some new “revelation.”