“Wow,” he whispers to himself, surprised. Leaning a little closer, he drops the theatrics and cocks his head to the side like he does when he’s watching a really serious movie. “Who is Soliloquy?”
He might as well have ripped the heart from my chest, shredding it to ribbons in front of me. Faith shares a look with me, and I can’t hold eye contact, so I look away.
“How do you know about Soliloquy?” Faith asks, but Ezra doesn’t look up from the ball.
I stare at my boy in awe. “Yeah. How did you know about her?”
“As I’ve stated far more times than I should have to, I am a psychic, Bubs. This is literally what I do.”
“Yeah, but you’re a fake psychic,” Clint says.
“And you’re a fake gay, walking around, flashing that fucking ass at unsuspecting queer men. Getting us hot and bothered, only to throw our hearts and erections into the fire, watching us burn down to dust and raw, unbridled lust. We’re not playthings, you queerbaiting douchebag. Booyah, asshole. Roasted.”
“I ain’t any type of gay, I don’t flash anything at gay guys,” Clint argues, “and you didn’t roast shit.”
“No. I’ve said it, so it’s true. You’ve been roasted. Cry about it.” Closing his eyes, Ezra mumbles something under his breath. His eyes shoot open and lock with Clint’s. “There. Now, you’re cursed. Your cock will never harden again. Cope.” He looks over at me.
“Soliloquy was a little dachshund we had. Our neighbor poisoned her.”
Ezra gapes at me. “That’s awful. Do you want me to curse your old neighbor too?”
I shake my head. “There’s no need. I handled it. Broke both his fuckin’ hands and gave him a DIY trachea. He survived. It’s a shame.”
Swallowing, Ezra nods, looking nervous. “Remind me never to break your heart, lest I wish to find myself dead in a ditch.”
“I would never hurt you, Ezra,” I assure him, but his eyes just narrow again.
Ezra stares into the crystal ball again. “Why is Barbara reflecting an image of go-go boots?”
“Are they pink?” Faith asks, and Ezra nods. Faith wriggles around in her seat like an excited child. “Does Barbara know where they are? I’ve been looking for them for years.”
I sure fuckin’ hope not. The thing is, the shoes were ugly as fuck, and Faith couldn’t walk right in them. She almost cracked her skull in the driveway once, tripping over her own damn ankle as I tried to catch her, only to fall and slam my head into a rosebush face-first like we were starring inThe Three Stoogesor some shit. I’ve still got the small scar below my left eye to prove it.
“They look like they’re currently in a landfill. Either that, or downtown Dallas. Honestly, it could be either, they’re essentially one and the same. Regardless, they’re in a puddle or pond at the landfill. They’re fully submerged in water.”
Faith sucks in a sharp breath, and I can’t say I blame her. Ezzy’s touching on ground he doesn’t need to be touching on. Faith looked for those boots for weeks before finally giving up, Thank God she did. If she ever finds out I tossed them to keep her safe, she’ll probably claw my heart out. Ezra looks up at me, and there’s a knowingness in his eyes.
“A landfill?” Faith asks. “Gee, I wonder how the hell they ended up there.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
I give Ezra a final pleading look, and he immediately launches into action, leaning closer to the ball, blowing with his lips. Once he’s cleared whatever fake fog he’s staring at, he nods proudly to himself. “Actually, that’s not water. It’s a fire. You set them too close to the fireplace and they caught aflame, roasting down to ash. You should really be more careful. You could've killed someone.”
“I still could,” Faith counters, folding her arms over her chest. “We’ve never had a fireplace.”
“Every place is a fireplace, if you try hard enough,” Ezra says, staring defiantly at her. “Would you like to gaze into my crystal ball, Faith? Do you want to assume the role of this family’s resident psychic? Why don’t you give it a shot, since you think you know so much?”
“Dammit to Hell,” I groan, scrubbing my face.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Johnny interrupts, sharing a look with me. “You really don’t want to piss Faith off. I’ve seen her bring grown men to tears with her clapbacks. Try giving me a reading instead, Ez.”
“Try dying twice,” he bites back. “If it doesn’t take, try it thrice.”
“What the fuck did I do?” Johnny asks, his voice booming.
“What did you do?” Ezra scoffs. He stands and walks to the living room, then returns holding a framed photo of the three of us. Me, Johnny, and our boy. He lifts it over his head before smashing it on the floor, sending glass scattering all over the damn floor. “I’ll tell you what you did. You made me fall for you, and the second I submitted to the feeling, you broke my heart.” Tears fill my boy’s eyes. “You promised, Johnny. You said we were in this together, and then two seconds later, you and the homewrecker at the other end of the table tongue-fuckedeach other’s mouths like you were starving for it. You said you were gay, why would you kiss a woman?”
Johnny’s eyes bulge. “Ez, I didn’t kiss her—”
“Liar, liar, slut on fire!” Ezra shrieks, pounding his fist against the table. “I want you to know something. Anything we ever were—everything we might have become—is over. You ruined this. What we had was special. You took it and smashed it with your big, stinky foot.”
