“It’s a truthful tagline that relates to the subject at hand,” she defended. “And I do believe everyone deserves a chance to break their own curses.”
I laughed under my breath. “Yeah, but when you say it like that, it sounds very rehearsed.”
“How should I say it? I’m just talking how I talk.”
“You naturally talk like that?” I raised a brow, taking in her perfect posture, all poised and readied for another crowd of fans to hang on her every word.
Rae dropped her arms, slipping her hands into her back pockets. Her nipples poked through the thick cotton of her tee. She was braless. I swallowed and resolved to look no lower than her neckline.
“What’s wrong with how I talk?” she asked.
“Nothing…if I were a fan, I’d say nothing’s wrong with it.”
Rae chewed on her bottom lip for a second, considering my assessment.
“It’s a gift, though,” I said in a softer tone. “One most people would kill for.I’dkill for. Watching you on that stage was probably how people felt when they witnessed the first musical.”
Rae laughed. “Excuse me?”
“It was probably all goosebumps and shivers down the spine, you know?” I mused. “Seeing people stitch together epic storytelling and music on a stage. I don’t know, I’ve just always thought musicals are one of humanity’s greatest achievements.”
Her laughter faded into a delicate smile. “That might be the biggest compliment I’ve received from a hater.”
“Just because I’m not a fan doesn’t mean I’m a hater,” I said.
Rae nodded and gave in. “Alright, no more selling myself. Or, at least, I’ll try.”
“Good. Just…be Rae? The real Rae,” I encouraged.
Rae shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Just be the real Rae. I think I can do that. It’s what I was put on this earth to do, right?”
“That’s the spirit.”
“What’s your honest question, the real Octavia?”
“What are the odds we’re having some collective psychosis? Maybe from mold? Because that was my first thought. And since you do this for a living, you know what false positives look like, right?”
Rae frowned, concerned. “You guys have mold?”
“No…but we could.”
“You think mold would capture a hallucination on film?”
“I don’t know the inner workings of mold.”
When she laughed, her head tilted back. The vibration made my chest loosen. My body believed, for a second, I was the safest I’d ever been here in the middle of a weird motel parking lot with a woman who hunted nightmares for a living.
“But seriously?” I asked. “What are the odds of this being something as simple as forgetting to close my window?”
“Low, beautiful. Very low.”
My stomach dipped at the endearment, but this woman didn’t even blink an eye.
“But lucky for you, my success rate is not,” she promised.
FOUR
“We should considerthat she and her brother may be manifesting it.” I swiped my glucose monitor patch with a Q-tip soaked in baby oil. “Because of the sleepwalking.”
