Tangled Souls
“Add a mug of hot chocolate, and she was set. Caffeine and sugar, always the best antidotes to bad news—and there was plenty of the latter. The article on Dazie Mazie, Hollywood’s favorite psychic, proved scathingly accurate. Jones had pulled no punches.
HIGH-TECH CHARLATAN BILKS GULLIBLE HOLLYWOOD ELITE “Oh, Goddess,” she muttered. On the table next to her plate, her cell phone buzzed continually like a trapped wasp, countless calls from the community’s worried and outraged psychics.
It was close to eight thirty when she realized the Irish guy was late. That wasn’t his style. She dug in her purse for his card and dialed the number; it instantly rolled over to voice mail. She flipped the phone shut.
“Not good.” Drumming her fingers, she worked through her options. One resonated more than the others, so she waved down the waitress, put in another order, and asked for the check.
* * * O’Fallon answered the door in his jeans, shirtless, unshaven; it made him look like a regular guy.
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