“Hello, I need to schedule a consultation as soon as possible.”
My brain glitched as I realized I was having a conversation with someone, and I was extra startled that it was a dude. Not that there was anything wrong with a man calling a psychic, but the majority ofHaus de Donmoue’sclients were women. There was probably some fascinating gender study as to why.
“My apologies,” I said, using my phone voice. Before I’d dropped out of college, my roommate had called it my scary robot receptionist tone. I didn’t think it was all that concerning, but I figured the code switch was startling to someone who was used to my more flippant and quippy way of talking. “The oracle is booked all day”—painting an adequate masterpieceof an exemplary cat—“but she does have openings starting on Monday.”
Was it irresponsible of me to turn down the appointment? Maybe. But when my brain decided it wanted to do something, it was better to get it out of the way rather than fight it, drain all my energy, and end up dissatisfied with nothing accomplished. As long as I didn’t fall down a multi-day rabbit hole and remembered to eat and drink, taking a day off to do whatever the goblins in my head wanted was a way better solution than the alternative.
Besides, it wasn’t like I was hard up for money. I had a sizable inheritance from my mother. Not enough to be, like, a millionaire or anything, but enough to sustain me for the rest of my life as long as I was smart about it. The family home had also been bequeathed to me, so I wasn’t paying the insane rental prices that had become the norm.
“Are you certain?”
“I’m looking at her schedule right now, sir.”
Hah, schedule. That was funny.
“This is a… time-sensitive situation. I mean no disrespect, but would the oracle be willing to disrupt her current schedule if I were to pay triple the appointment fee on your website?”
Say what now?
“You know what, let me check if we’ve had any last-minute cancellations.”
It wasn’t about the money, but if a client was that desperate to get into the book, they were likely to spread the word if they had a great experience. Endorsement like that could turnHaus de Donmouefrom a relic past its glory to something my mother could be proud of.
I didn’t want everything my mother had worked so hard for to slip into obscurity.
“Thank you for holding,” I said, like I was a real receptionist and not just cosplaying as one for the moment. “It turns out we do have an opening in two hours, if you can make it.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll be there.”
And then he hung up.
“Well, that was rather cut and dry, wasn’t it?” I asked Hudson. My cat didn’t reply. She was passed out on the pink, fuzzy cat bed I’d bought specifically so I could paint her lounging in it. “Whatever he’s got going on, I know it’s going to be interesting.”
I returned to my painting, ready to really lock in for the next hour or so, but when I dropped my brush and bent to retrieve it, I got a good look at the floor. In the three days since I’d last had a client, I’d maybe kinda sorta definitely trashed my place.
It wasn’t filthy with rotten food or anything like that, but the dishwasher needed to be emptied; I had two laundry baskets of clean clothes in the psychic reading room that needed to be folded and put away; the skateboard that I’dstolenborrowedwas sitting out as the youngster was coming to pick it up along with a twenty dollar thank you later that afternoon; all the non-perishable groceries that had been delivered were still on the counter; and my craft room looked like a bomb had gone off.
Also, I could probably do with a shower.
“Shit! Better get this place in shape.”
Although there was a curtain separating the reading room from the other parts of the house, that didn’t mean the client wouldn’t get a sneak peek of the chaos if the wind buffeted the partition, or even if Hudson decided to play with it. At the very least, I needed to get the clothes out of there and put away all my paints so nothing would dry out while I was busy. I also needed to clothe myself. Sure, I wore that dramatic robe and hat during readings, but it didn’t seem very appropriate to only have a muumuu on underneath it.
Cue an hour and fifty minutes of me whirling around the house, trying to stay on task by blasting music that made me want to get up and move. An unforeseen side effect was that the music made me subconsciously mean-mug while I was shakin’ it, but thankfully, the hot water of my shower relaxed any tension in my jaw that might lead to a headache.
The two energy drinks also probably helped prevent that. I loved caffeine. Outside of my meds, it was one of the best ways I’d found to calm down and focus.
Had I taken them today?
Check the pill box!Wait, I forgot to fill the pillbox.
Did we even fill the prescription?
I thought these were supposed to be addictive!
How can I get hooked on them if I can’t even remember to take them half the time?
Whatever, I’ll deal with that later.