“Absolutely not. I met you, like, twelve hours ago and I already know there’s a zero percent chance you will be able to contain your background giggles.”
As if to prove my point, she burst out laughing. “Point taken. But you cannot deprive me of all that simmering sexual tension forever. I’ll expect a full report afterward.”
“Splendid,” I groused sarcastically. “More joys to look forward to, along with car trouble and an overbearing cop meddling in my affairs.”
And spontaneous visions triggered by Revolutionary War Era knickknacks.
And a rapidly dwindling bank account.
And...
“Look on the bright side!” Gigi interrupted my slow spiral into panic. “This means you’ll be staying with us for a few more days.”
I glanced at her and attempted a smile. “Yeah, and going broke in the process.”
Her own smile fell away. “Sorry. I wish there was something I could do about the rate, but when it comes to the books, Mr. Monteith is kind of a stickler?—”
“Stop. This isn’t your problem.” I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “It’s six hundred for the week, right?”
Gigi nodded. “You don’t have to pay me right this second, though?—”
“Might as well bite the bullet.” I rose to my feet and began to cross the room. Before I reached the parlor threshold, I paused and glanced back at her. “Hey, you don’t happen to know of any places around here that are hiring part-timers? Maybe somewhere I could pick up a few shifts this week, before I leave town? Enough to cover my car repairs?”
And my cellphone bill.
And gas.
And snacks.
And possibly a bottle of tequila to drown my sorrows.
“Hmm…” Her lips pursed as she mulled over my question for a moment. “I mean, you’re welcome to use this old thing to search for listings online…” She gestured toward the ancient-looking computer monitor on her desk. It had to be older than Declan. “Fair warning, the internet is spotty at best and it shuts itself down every twenty minutes.”
I snorted. “Efficient.”
“You could always check the job board downtown. A lot of local businesses post flyers there. Then there’s always the Salem Gazette want-ads section…” Her face lit up. “Oh, you know what? You should try The Gallows!”
“The Gallows? I’m looking for gainful employment, not grisly execution.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, no. It’s this cute coffee-slash-occult-slash-book store smack in the center of the city. Great vibes, ah-freaking-mazing decor. They make a killer pumpkin spice latte and sell all sorts of spooky trinkets. Not just touristy stuff, either — we’re talking real witchy-woo-woo shit. Iron cauldrons and pre-bottled curses and crystals of mystical origin.”
“Sounds… unique?”
“It totally is!” Gigi exclaimed, missing my skepticism entirely. “They do tarot readings and everything, right in the back of the shop! Or... they did. I heard through the grapevine that their resident psychic recently fled the state.” She shrugged. “I’m sure Gwen will find someone new ASAP.”
“Gwen?”
“The owner, Gwendolyn Goode. She’s this slightly kooky, ultra fashionable redhead. Big temper, bigger heart. You can’t miss her, she’s always there. Last time I went in, she told me she was looking for some part-time help since the place has gotten so popular… If you stop by, tell her Gigi says hello!”
“Sure,” I agreed in an absent murmur.
My brain was still stuck on what she’d said before — about the vacant psychic position. Over the years, I’d racked up plenty of experience with tarot cards, palm lines, tea leaves…
You name it, I read it.
I could easily rake in a few hundred bucks in a week doing private readings. More than enough to cover my car repairs and get the heck out of dodge. If I did a little advertising, broadcast my reputation as a once-famous clairvoyant with B-list celebrity status around town…
I’d be turning clients away.