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Even when she misjudged, she was perceptive enough to read confusion on the recipient's face before they could say anything, backtrack, and "correct" herself. On the very few occasions that she completely struck out, she'd tell the person to "go home and think about it, and it'll come to you," as if their memory was to blame, not her.
This Jaime might really be a necromancer, but she wasn't using her skills here. As I'd told Savannah, no one--not even a necro--could "dial up the dead" like this. What Jaime Vegas did was a psychological con job, not far removed from psychics who tell young girls "I see wedding bells in your future." Having lost my mother the year before, I understood why these people were here, the void they ached to fill. For a necromancer to profit from that grief with false tidings from the other side...well, it didn't make Jaime Vegas someone I wanted to work with.
The dressing room smelled like a funeral parlor. Appropriate, I suppose. I looked for chairs, and found one under a bouquet of two dozen black roses. I didn't know roses came in black.
J.D. had escorted me here before being dragged off by his assistant, who'd been muttering something about a man refusing to leave his seat until Jaime summoned his dead mother.
After clearing the chair of roses, I tried calling Lucas again. Still no answer. Avoiding my calls, I suspected. Damn call display. I was phoning home for messages when the door opened and Jaime wheeled in.
"Paige, right?" she said, gulping air. The glasses were gone, and the loosened tendrils of hair that had looked so artfully arranged on stage now clung, sweat-sodden, to her neck and face. "Please tell me it's Paige."
"Uh, yes. I--"
"Oh, thank God. I was running back here and suddenly thought, what if that wasn't her? and I was winking at some strange girl and inviting her to join me backstage, which is exactly what I do not need. My place in the tabloids is ensured without that. So, Paige--"
She stopped and looked around, then opened the door and shouted. "Hello! Did I ask--?"
A tray appeared from behind the door, floating in midair. Presumably there was some flunky behind the door holding it. Or so I hoped. With necromancers, one can never be sure.
She grabbed the tray, then lifted the bottle of single-malt Scotch. "What are you people trying to do to me? I said no booze tonight. I have an engagement. No booze, no caffeine. Like I'm not bouncing off the walls enough as it is." She eyed the bottle longingly, then shut her eyes and thrust it out. "Take it, please."
The bottle vanished behind the door.
"And bring more Gatorade. The blue stuff. None of that orange shit." She closed the door, grabbed a towel, and mopped her face. "Okay, so where were we?"
"I--"
"Oh, right. So I was thinking, what if that's not her? I was expecting the witch. Well, maybe not expecting, but hoping, you know? Lucas called and told me he was sending someone--a female someone--and I thought, oh, my God, maybe it's the witch."
"The--?"
"Have you heard that story?" Jaime continued, her voice muffled as she tugged her dress off over her head. "About Lucas and the witch? Personally, I can't see it."
"You mean, Lucas dating a witch? Well--"
"No, Lucas dating. Period." Jaime shrugged off her bra. "No offense to the guy, really. He's great. But he's one of those people you just can't imagine having a social life. Like your teachers. You see them outside the classroom and it freaks you out."
Now stripped to her panties, Jaime proceeded to slather cold cream on her face, still talking.
"I heard she's a computer geek. Probably some skinny kid with big glasses and an overbite, scared of her own shadow. Typical witch. I can see Lucas hooking up with a girl like--"
"I'm the witch," I said.
Jaime stopped cleaning her face and looked at me. "Wha--?"
"The witch. Lucas's girlfriend. That'd be me."
She winced. "Oh, shit."
The door cracked open and J.D.'s voice floated through. "Got a fire to put out, Jaime. Needs your special touch."
"Just hold on, okay?" she said to me, throwing on a robe. "I'll be right back."
"Hey, it's me," I said, shifting the cell phone to my other ear. "Is your dad there?"
"Paige, nice to hear from you," Adam said. "I'm fine. Midterms went well. Thanks for asking."
"Sorry," I said. "But I'm kind of in a hur--"
