I guess he’s decided to completely ignore my terribly valid point, because he just continues his little spiel. “Is it because you’re mad I didn’t wake you up? I wasn’t trying to exclude you. I just didn’t think you would want to come. All we’re going to do is go fishing. I know you hate the great outdoors, so I didn’t want to upset you.”
“It’s more upsetting waking up to realize you’re the last person to arrive at a party you were never even invited to. It’s cruel.”
“I was going to leave you a note.”
“A note’s not good enough. What if Johnny hid it from me before you guys left? I would’ve thought you just skipped town and left me all alone.”
“I would never,” he says insistently.
“Yeah, well, you almost did, and it’s not nice. Why did you even have to go to another lake? We could have stayed home.”
They ain’t got the kind of fish we’re trying to catch.”
“Just buy a damn fish at the store.” I lightly slap his chest. “Put me down.”
He recoils as if stricken. “You don’t want me to hold you? I thought you liked being carried around like this.”
“I do like being carried around, but I don’t like feeling excluded.” I poke him in the chest, because it’s right there, and I want to. “And if you ever pull something like this again, I will destroy you.”
“Fuck, you’re cute.”
I sigh. “Dammit, Bubs.” With the hand not holding my ass, he tugs my chin until I’m looking him in the eyes.
“I will never exclude you again. I’m sorry Ezra. Ask your spirit guide. Ask Barbara if I mean it. She knows everything. She’ll know what’s in my heart.”
My heart flutters in my chest. It could very well be the beginnings of acid reflux, or it could be something different entirely. Something gentler. Nobody takes my psychic abilities seriously. They all think I’m a joke, but the spirits are no laughing matter. I know how absolutely ridiculous it must sound, hearing a tantalizing twink tell you he can communicate with the other side. It's a goddamn disaster, but it’s not like I asked for this. I didn’t set out to become the next Sylvia Crowne, though I wouldn’t be opposed to wearing the crown. Syl—that’s what we inthe industrycall her—was a psychic powerhouse. Her name is synonymous with the psychic community, almost as if she’s woven into the fabric of our DNA. I use “we” loosely, because I’ve never actually met another psychic face to face. I’ve chatted with a few on Facebook, but I’m what they call a “solo practitioner.” Or maybe that just applies to the Wiccan faith? No matter the label, the end result is true. I have a gift.
“The spirits say you’re gonna put me down so I can go apologize to Johnny for being so mean to him.”
His eyes widen. “You’ll do that for me, baby?”
I tap his hand, and he slowly releases me. Once I’m on solid footing again, I nod. “I will, but I’m serious. I don’t like when you call me baby. It’s too—”
“Inevitable?” he asks, but it’s a stupid thing to say, so I thump him on the nose. “Thump me all you want, little man. We both know it’s true.”
“We know nothing of the sort.”
He snorts a laugh. “I’ll tell you what we know. We know you ain’t sorry for being a prick to Johnny, which means you’re up to something.”
“Up yours.” I whirl around and manage to make it half a step before Bubba rears back his arm and slaps my ass. I turn and gape at him.
“And we know how sexy that ass is going to look as it sinks down on my cock.”
I whimper. I don’t mean to, but it happens, and I can’t take it back. “Never gonna fuck you,” I whisper, but even I’m not buying it.
“Sure.” He smirks. “Baby.”
My cheeks are fucking scorching, so I rush away from the lakeshore, heading down the hill, toward the boat rental kiosk, or whatever the hell it’s called, where Johnny is talking to the man I assumed was dead earlier.
“Ah, fuck,” Johnny groans.
“Language,” the elderly man says, slowly lifting a pack of Camels and pulling out an unfiltered cigarette. Dear God, does he have iron lungs? He lights the cigarette at a glacial speed, then takes a long, deep lungful of smoke. “I won’t rent my luxurious boats to foul-mouthed youths. If you want to go fishing on this lake, you’ll watch that filthy mouth of yours.”
Johnny just sighs and nods, not wanting to make things worse, probably. He pays the man, mumbling something under his breath.
The man’s jaw clenches. “What the hell did you just say to me, young man?”
“I said, we’ll be on our best—”
