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vibrated in a full-body shake. Then she stepped forward and walked past the two of them.
     
    He looked at Ashley and thought, Where the hell did you find this five-foot little bitch?
     
    “Please, follow me,” the psychic said.
     
    “What the fuck was that all about?” Jerry leaned down and whispered to Ashley.
     
    She smacked his arm. “Please. Try to behave.”
     
    “This is fucked. If she disrespects me again, I’m done. Got that? No fucking around. I don’t even want to be here.”
     
    “I know.” Ashley turned to face him and gripped both his arms. “Do this for me. Please. We’ll be out of here in thirty minutes.”
     
    Jerry nodded. Fine. Fuck it.
     
    Ashley moved away. He blew out a calming breath through his teeth, and followed her down the hall.
     
    Shit, what the hell am I doing here?
     
    In the kitchen, the psychic had set up a fancy table with five chairs, evenly spread out, except for the head chair. It sat three feet from any other.
     
    She really doesn’t like to be touched.
     
    Incense burned in every corner of the room. It was almost enough to make Jerry gag.
     
    How the hell am I supposed to breathe in here?
     
    He reached into his breast pocket and produced his cigarette pack. With the deft ability of a life-time smoker, he flipper the top open, jolted the pack with the snap of his wrist causing one cigarette to rise above the rest, and clamped his lips on it.
     
    “No smoking in here, please,” the psychic said.
     
    Ashley tapped his arm. “Jerry, please. ”
     
    “What?” He raised his shoulders and extended both hands. “There’s so much smoke in here already. Explain to me how one little cancer stick will matter. Seriously.”
     
    Ashley looked at him with her pleading eyes, her chin lowered, eyebrows raised. She knew it was the one look that always melted him.
     
    “Okay, okay. But this shit is starting to piss me off. Now, on with the show.”
     
    He grabbed a chair, pulled it out, and plunked down hard.
     
    Ashley looked at the psychic. “I’m sorry. Jerry doesn’t really believe in psychics. If you want, you can still do a reading for him as planned, but really, he’s here to support me. Will that still be okay?”
     
    The psychic eased her chair out and slowly sat on it. Everything seemed calculated and precise. Either she had a major OCD complex, or she was just fucked.
     
    What was bothering Jerry the most was how she wouldn’t look at him. Ever since the prolonged stare in the hallway she had avoided all eye contact.
     
    “I understand. Such is the nature of my gift. Let us begin, shall we?”
     
    Ashley nodded and sneaked a look at Jerry. He pursed his lips and sliced a grim smile across his face.
     
    The psychic reached for a remote control sitting on the counter beside her, touched some buttons, and the lights in the kitchen dimmed. From the same counter, she took a pair of sunglasses, and placed them on her head.
     
    Then she began mumbling to herself.
     
    Jerry fought an internal urge to stand up and walk out. The only thing that stopped him was the aftermath. Ashley would be so pissed that the whole night would be ruined, and sex would be out of the question. Ashley knew he was ready to bolt. She’d placed a calming hand on his knee under the table and softly squeezed. What was meant as a reassuring gesture only added to his urge to leave.
     
    Sitting in a darkened kitchen filled with incense smoke, watching a psychic talk to herself while wearing a green sweater and stupid sunglasses, only added to his state of agitation. When Ashley touched him under the table, he almost shouted out in surprise.
     
    The psychic’s head lifted. She appeared to be staring straight ahead at nothing.
     
    What the fuck is this now?
     
    “I’m sorry,” she began. “Excuse my mumbling. I always ask to be surrounded by clean spirits. Sometimes emotionally charged entities can disturb our time together.” She lifted her right hand and placed it on