Before she could see them, she could hear them. Justin was still there with Naomi. “Absolutely no pastels!” he was saying.
“It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be soft and romantic. Pastels are soft and romantic.”
“Gia’s a Scorpio,” Justin shot back.
Gabby poked her head in. “I’m looking for Jasmine.”
“Gia, do you like pink? Be honest.”
Once Justin brought up signs, there was no talking to him. It was like arguing about religion. For him, it was a question of faith, and if you didn’t have it, you were probably going to hell, and most likely a Sagittarius. (His most significant ex was a Sag, which apparently had nothing to do with why he didn’t trust Sagittariuses. Yeah right, Justin.)
A sudden moment of perspective struck Gabby. Everyone was just looking for answers, for comfort. That’s what all of this was. The people at Inner-G trying to tap into their G. The president talking to a psychic. So many people talking to a psychic. Religion. Astrology. Even marriage. Phil running home to her like she would save him. Gabby would like some answers too, but where was she going to put her faith?
Her mouth still hanging open, her opinion on pink not yet voiced, Justin said, “Well, Gia doesn’t like pink. At least that shade of pink.”
Dear god, maybe they could compromise.
“You guys are doing great,” she said. “Thanks, Justin.”
“You are going to be such a beautiful bride,” he said. “I would never miss one of your weddings.”
“Do either of you know where Jasmine is?”
“She went home.”
A plan emerged, and by plan, she meant that she was going to walk up to Jasmine and ask her if the rumor was true. She almost wished it wasn’t. What did Naomi have to do with anything? This one was coming out of nowhere.
Ten minutes later, Gabby stood at the door to Jasmine and Genesis’s place. She was poised to knock when a raised voice stopped her in her tracks.
“You can’t call the cops,” Jasmine said. “Gia said Sheridan went to town to see a friend.”
“She left her purse!” G retorted. “Where’s she going without money?”
Jasmine huffed. Gabby heard someone violently reorganizing some objects in the living room.
“She’s a psychic. Psychics are not dependable.”
“I don’t know,” G said. “Her whole thing is common sense.”
“Just go surfing or something. I need space.”
“Why is everything a problem lately?” G said with a frustrated exhalation. Angry footsteps approached before the door swung open. The Big G almost walked right into her.
“Oh, hi!” Gabby said, taking a step back to avoid a collision. “I was just stopping by to ask Jasmine a question.”
When he saw her, G took a breath. Ignoring that she might have heard the argument, he said, “She’s inside.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you say Sheridan went into town?” he asked.
“Yep.” Gabby smiled. “She was excited to meet some friend or other.”
And then he was off, probably to soak in the wave pool.
“See you later,” she called after his retreating form.
She pushed into the house. “Jasmine,” she called.
