Maybe this isn’t so bad, Rainy thought. She walked alongside Ursa, who was recounting her time with Miami Oscar. Tara and Braithe were up ahead, leading the way, and Mac was somewhere in the middle, calling out directions as she read them off her phone.
They found a place online: readings for forty dollars apiece, group discounts available. There was no such thing as psychic ability, Rainy assured herself. This was like a show: they were going somewhere to be entertained, like any other place in Vegas. They had to navigate their way across puddles, making a game of leaping dramatically, arms flying. Rainy felt silly. She hadn’t even done these things when she was a kid. As they walked, Braithe told them she’d tried to get an appointment with a famous psychic her mother had seen here in Vegas, but there were no openings.
“Stephen always makes fun of me for wanting to go, but I swear to God that guy knows what he’s talking about.”
“She’s obsessed,” Tara announced to the rest of them. She was tiptoeing on a narrow strip of pavement to avoid a puddle. Braithe didn’t seem bothered by Tara’s comment; she looked happy, almost beaming.
“Ohhh,” Ursa said. “Does he have dark hair and a scar on his cheek? I’ve seen him on TV.”
Braithe nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. My mom went to see him before she married my dad. There was this other guy before my dad and I guess she was unsure about which man to go with. So she went to see the psychic and he said stuff about her that no one knew. Freaked her out, but it gave her such clarity. She said he changed her life. I just think it’s cool.” She dipped her head, laughing, and Rainy marveled at how beautiful she was.
Rainy sidestepped a wad of gum. She was starting to feel the exhaustion; it was tag-teaming the alcohol, making mush of her thoughts. And then they were there, the shop a blur of neon and incense and pastel crystals that looked like candy. She ran her hands over the lip of the shelves, listening to the others talk to a man who introduced himself as Luc.
“Is that your real name?” she heard Mac ask. She didn’t wait for Luc’s answer; she ducked behind a display of shirts and pretended to look for a size. Places like this freaked her out: people claiming to hear from other beings, relaying messages. She was chilly, the night had dried uncomfortably on her skin and her buzz was a faint hum now. Had she really been dancing beneath a ceiling of bubbles only an hour ago? She eyed the door, wondering if she could slip out and send them a text saying she wasn’t feeling well. Peeping around the display, she saw that Tara had taken a seat at Luc’s little table and he was laying cards in front of her. The words came back to her.
Do not be deceived by liars and manipulators. Astronomy, psychics and mediums are signs of a nation perverted by the idea that they can control their futures. They are evil manipulators of truth.
She tugged her phone from her pocket, hoping to see a text from Grant. Nothing, but there was a text from Viola.
I’ve got heartburn. You up?
The Tigers are getting their cards read and I’m here, too, she wrote back.
Viola’s text came back at record speed.
Say what? And don’t try to act like you’re not a Tiger, okay? I saw you in Tara’s story and you looked like you were having the time of your life.
Rainy rolled her eyes, trying to squeeze the smile off her face.
That part was fun but now they’re acting weird and I want to leave!!!
Whoa, whoa, you never use excited punctuation. How bad is it?
She bit her lip, thumbs paused. It wasn’t that bad, was it? Things had been weird, then great, then weird again. She decided to say exactly that to Viola.
Weird in what way? Viola asked.
They’re asking a lot of prying shit. Braithe is floating around superhappy and Tara keeps looking at me like I’m wearing tampons for earrings.
She’s just territorial, Viola sent back. Ignore her and don’t answer any of their questions. They’re always like this with Grant’s girlfriends. Don’t let them play you.
Play her. Grant’s girlfriends.
In the beginning, when she’d first started going to their happy hours, they’d made suggestive comments about Grant’s exes, but Rainy had never taken the bait, had never pried for information about who came before her. He was hers now. It didn’t seem fair to ask questions about his past when she wouldn’t answer any about her own. She heard her name being called and slipped her phone into her pocket, bracing herself. It was Ursa.
“Do you want to go next, or...?”
“I don’t want to go at all,” she said flatly. Ursa nodded once and went back to the group.
Maybe they’d only invited her to see where she stood with Grant. Was it possible that the entire year she spent going to their little gatherings they’d been fooling her, making her think they were her friends when—
“Hey, Ursa said you seemed upset.” Braithe stepped around the corner and Rainy froze.
“I...just don’t feel great.”
Braithe’s eyes crinkled in concern. “Yeah, we don’t always drink that hard. Well, you can go next if you like, and then head out early.”
Rainy’s mouth was dry, and she felt the buildup of pressure in her chest. She knew what was coming and she didn’t want to have a panic attack in front of them.
“I need the bathroom.” She looked around desperately and spotted the sign. She tossed Braithe her best I’m sorry look and darted for the back of the store. From somewhere behind her, she heard Braithe tell the others that Rainy was sick.
Once locked in the bathroom she called Grant, her panic increasing from drizzle to downpour. This had been a mistake of epic proportions, coming here—especially here—with these women. She called his cell; it rang twice before going to voice mail. What could he be doing at this time of night? Get a grip, Rainy. He’s in a different time zone. She slid her phone into her back pocket and covered her face with her hands.
If she’d told Grant about her past, then he wouldn’t have pressured her to go on this stupid trip; she should have just been honest with him. She hated herself; she hated her inability to know what was best. Leaning against the wall, she listened to her own breathing as she calmed herself down. She knew they’d come to check on her if she didn’t come out. She washed her hands, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror, formulating the words she needed to get the fuck out of there. The knock came before she’d dried her hands.
“You okay?”
It was Mac. Rainy opened the door, and before Mac could react, she grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom.
“I need you to get me out of here. I don’t want to do this.”
At first she thought Mac was going to ask why, but then her face transitioned from worried to confused to determined right in front of Rainy.
“Okay,” she said. “But they’re waiting for you, and you know how Tara is...”
Rainy nodded.
“Splash some water on your face. Make your makeup run more.”
Rainy wasn’t expecting the burst of laughter that came from her own mouth, but Mac being sneaky was a treat.
They left the bathroom together, arm in arm. Rainy dipped her head and tried to look even more miserable than she was.
“It’s your turn!” Ursa spotted them first, her voice filling up the store with its bold, smooth tenor. Mac squeezed her arm, leading her forward.
“She doesn’t feel well,” she told them. “I’m taking her back to the hotel.”
“Oh, no, Mac, you were looking forward to this!” Ursa said. “I’ll go back with Rainy.”
Rainy flinched. She didn’t want to ruin either of their experiences because she was having a ridiculous emotional breakdown. Squaring her shoulders, she loosened herself from Mac’s grip.
“Go. You should. I’m feeling better. I’ll just sit right here and wait.”
Mac’s look said that she didn’t believe her.
“I promise. Go.”