Page 71 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

She shrugs. “Okay. Rosco and I wouldn’t mind stretching our legs. But if shit gets weird, I’m leaving.”

“It’ll probably get weird,” I tell her as I hand her the ten dollars from McKay’s wallet, but it’s not like I have a lot of body-hopping choices right now.

She puts it into her bra and gets to her feet. “Where to?”

Um… how do I give you your body back? I ask McKay. I’ve… never done that before.

Just do the same thing you did to hop into me.

I try to twist my knobs—except I don’t have any, so I end up lifting my hands like I’m pinching some invisible person’s nipples and twisting them.

“I’m not into that,” Kennie tells me.

I drop my hands. “Sorry. Let’s walk.” I push the cart while Kennie and Rosco fall into step next to me.

Maybe try counting your breaths, McKay says.

Oh, right. I can breathe.

And don’t you dare wipe my memory before you go. Promise me you won’t make me forget.

My jaw drops. Wipe your memory? I can do that?

Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything, McKay says.

That explains how Trevor and the others get away with what they do—and why his victims’ expressions were so blank after he hopped out of their bodies.

I won’t wipe your memory. I promise. I hope. I have no idea how to do it, and so no idea of how to avoid it.

I slow my breathing down the way I’d done in Tibet and start to relax. Then I picture my spirit, which still looks like an espresso machine, floating up out of McKay and into the homeless woman.

Here goes nothing.

Chapter 33

Diva

Rosco barks and tugs on the leash… jerking my arm and making me stumble a step. Wait, what?

“Finally,” McKay cries. The sound doesn’t come from my mouth.

I touch my face. My hair. My non-designer pants. “It worked. It actually worked!”

“What the hell?” Kennie cries. My lips move with her words.

“I’m out of here.” McKay lets go of the cart with the espresso machine and turns back the way we came. She takes a few steps, glances at me over her shoulder, and adds, “Good luck, Diva. Don’t ever hop into me again.”

“Thanks, McKay. I really mean it,” I tell her. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d still be trapped on that table for Trevor to unplug.”

She shakes her head and keeps walking.

“Fuck, this is kinky shit,” Kennie says, and I feel her—our—mouth move. “How is this even possible?”

I take a step toward the cart with the espresso machine and topple forward on top of it. Shit, these boobs are huge.

“Thanks!” Kennie says. “Hey, I can hear your thoughts.” Can you hear mine?

Yup.