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Prologue
“Idon’t understand,” I complained. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Rowena sighed, calling on all her patience, I was sure. Still, she had no idea the crap that I had to deal with on a daily basis. Yeah, most everyone had a horrible boss story, but not like mine. Not only did I have a boss that didn’t know shit about what we did, but the jerk also didn’t know what the word loyalty meant. While we spent our days working long hours and being the bearer of bad news, he spent all day in his office, praying that none of us asked him any questions because the putz never knew the answer.
“Landry, honey,” Rowena said calmly. “For the millionth time, I don’t serve alcohol when we do this because it’s best to perform the readings with a clear mind.”
“I still don’t understand whyIcan’t drink?” I argued.
“Because your energy is just as important as mine when we’re doing this, Landry,” she explained, but hardly for the millionth time.
Still feeling annoyed with my life, I said, “And this would hardly be the first time that you’ve ever given me a drunken reading.”
Rowena shot me a look. “And how did those predictions turn out?”
“I just think a margarita bar would go great in here,” I suggested, the possibility of AA in my future.
“Not everything can be solved with margaritas, Landry,” Rowena drawled out.
“Says you,” I harrumphed.
Rowena eyed me. “Maybe you just need a spa day.”
“Maybe I need that tweedled dick to get hit by a bus,” I countered.
My best friend laughed. “You know, you could always just look for another job, Landry.”
“Why should I?” I asked seriously, and seriously needing a damn drink. “I’m good at what I do, and I was happy doing it before Mr. I’m-Not-Qualified-For-This-Job got hired.” I eyed Rowena back. “I bet you his grandfather, or…eccentric rich uncle, or something like that got him the job. I mean, anyone with half a brain can see that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“Okay, well, we’re just going to read your energy today,” Rowena suggested. “No spells, no bad juju, no praying to Satan, or anything like that. Plus, no negative energy.”
“Have you met me lately?” I gawked. “I’m the very definition of negative energy, and your refusal to supply your clients with alcohol is just feeding more negative energy.”
Rowena laughed again. “You’re hardly a client since I’ve never charged you for any of our sessions together.”
She had me there.
Draping my arm dramatically over her table, I laid my head down. “I need a drink,” I muttered. “A nice, cool, fruity, salt-laced drink.”
“You have work in the morning,” she reminded me.
I sighed. Crawford Industries was taking over Grandland Hotels, and we were scheduled to conduct a financial audit of Grandland Hotels before the purchase finalization. It was going to be a long and tiring few weeks, but when I wasn’t dealing with my asshat of a boss, I actually liked my job. I was good with numbers, and I got excited when we found mysterious accounts that didn’t add up. It wasn’t quite CIA subterfuge level, but it was still exciting.
“Can we give him an awful bout of diarrhea, at least?”
“No negative energy,” she repeated, adopting the same tone that my mom did whenever she was fed up with me.
I looked up from the table. “I wouldn’t be feeling negative if I had a margarita.”
“You are absolutely killing me, Landry,” she sighed.
“Speaking of killing-”
Rowena threw a finger up to stop me. “Hold that thought.”
I kept my murderous thoughts to myself as she grabbed her phone, then dialed someone. I could feel my grin nearly split my face in two when I heard her say, “It’s murder or margaritas.”
“Whooohooo!” I cried out, throwing my fists up over my head in victory. There was only one other person that knew what that meant, and that was Rowena’s husband.
