“You seem surprised,” Nina says, walking up behind me and placing one hand on my shoulder. She leans down to my ear. “This is Lanie we’re talking about.”
“But this?” I motion toward the darkened storefront, peering at it suspiciously. “You were on board with this place?”
Nina laughs. “Are you really shocked that her medium sets up in the back of a massage parlor masquerading as a nail salon?” She winks, letting me in on the fact she’s trying to get a rise out of Lanie.
“It’s not a massage parlor, and it’s not that bad,” Lanie drawls, looking to me for backup.
My eyes widen. “The windows aretinted.”
“Traitor,” she mutters, moving toward the door and ignoring any further appeals to leave.
My eyes scan the area, and across the street there’s a Victorian house with a large, illuminated sign that readsCora: Her Mediumship. It’s written in lovely cursive and looks professional. Unlike the dingy nail spa’s red-light-special vibe.
“Huh. I guess that explains the whole Cora-Corinne feud.” I nod to Cora’s. “Why couldn’t we be going there?”
Lanie scoffs. “Cora advertises on Kiss FM.She’sthe phony, operating under a fancy facade paid for by her daddy. I’m positive you’ve heard her name before and that’s why you confused Corinne with her to begin with. Everyone does. It’s Cora’s tactic.” She grunts. “Her real name is Margaret.”
Nina and I share a look. There’s so much to uncover in that tirade, but both of us remain quiet, eager to move past Lanie’s clear disdain of Corinne’s competition.
“Looks like Corinne can’t afford rent, let alone marketing,” I whisper for Nina’s ears only as I survey the sketchy part-time home of Madame Corinne’s operation. I shake my head, trying to talk myself into this. It’s supposed to be a night of fun. I can do this.
“It’s really not that bad. I promise,” Nina says, with a smirk that belies her words.
“Let’s go before I lose my nerve,” I say, walking toward the door with Nina hot on my heels. “Have your cell phones ready in case we have to call 9-1-1; this looks like a potential sex trafficking situation,” I call over my shoulder to Nina.
Lanie turns to me, nose scrunched and eyes squinted in something like disgust. “We’d be a bit past their target.”
My mouth drops open. “How do you figure?”
“We’re old,” Lanie deadpans.
The most unladylike snort rips through Nina’s throat as sheattempts to smother her laughter behind her fist. It doesn’t work, and soon she’s full-on belly laughing, all while Lanie stares at her as though she’s lost her mind.
“Are you done?” she snaps, clearly annoyed.
“Yes,” Nina squeaks out, smothering her mouth with her fist.
“Good. We need to hurry.”
The bell above chimes as Lanie pushes it open and we step into the dark nail salon. Shadows dance off the walls, making the place far more eerie than it ought to be. The only light in the entire place flickers ahead from under what appears to be heavy drapery.
The high-backed chairs look occupied in the dark, and if I wasn’t spooked before, I am now. I scoot close to Nina, linking our arms together. “Don’t you dare leave my side.”
We follow Lanie straight to the back, where a red velvet curtain separates Madame Corinne’s makeshift den from the rest of Cori’s.
Nina bumps my hip. “You sure about this?”
I raise my eyebrows in awhat the heck do you thinkexpression.
“Come in,” a deep, throaty voice calls from the other side. “Move it.”
We push past the curtain into the small candlelit room that boasts one large oval table, covered by more red velvet. The walls are stark white, and the only other furniture in this oversized supply room is a metal shelf full of various tchotchkes that I can’t quite make out in the dim light and a vending machine full of a copious number of snacks. Directly to the right is a white door that blends in with the walls. I’m assuming this space functions as an employee lounge during the day, but it’s the most mundane space ever. I wonder what’s behind the door. A restroom? A supply closet? Bodies?
Good grief.
A throat clears, drawing my attention back to the table.
I immediately notice there’s nothing on top of the tablecloth, which surprises me. No deck of tarot cards or crystal ball in sight. Not that I expected that.
