“You have to stop talking like this or I’m not going to be fit to meet the psychic.”
She laughs again, and then we’re at the bead-covered door of Madam Psuka’s, Psychic Extraordinaire. Neon moons and stars vainly attempt to compete with the bright beach sunlight.
“We’re really lucky,” Devi says in a hushed voice. “She spends half the year in Michigan. Whenever she comes back to L.A., she’s usually too swamped with her repeat customers to see anyone.”
A ray of hope blossoms inside me. “So maybe she won’t be able to see us today?” I ask, trying not to sound too relieved.
Devi just points to the sign hanging in the window. Walk-Ins Welcome Today.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Devi swats at my arm. “You lost fair and square. Be a good sport.”
“You can’t really believe all this stuff, right? It’s so silly. And you’re so...science-y.”
She pushes me inside, into the thick, dark air within. While my eyes adjust, I hear Devi digging into her big slouchy shoulder bag, and when I can finally see again, I realize she has my camera. I gave it to her just in case we wanted to capture any moments for Star-Crossed.
She turns it on. “I think this is worth filming. It’s like we’re on a fake date again! Wings and now psychics.”
“You know, when I gave you that, I was really just imagining us finding a place to make out or something.”
She tuts at me and flaps her hand, indicating that I should sit in one of the chairs packed into the tiny waiting area where we are now. “It smells like pot,” I observe, taking a few more experimental sniffs. “A lot of pot.”
Devi grins. “It’s sage. People burn it to purify a space of negative energy.”
“This is considered purified? I think that is an excellent way to cover up smoking pot. ‘Oh no, officer, I wasn’t smoking marijuana, I was just purifying my car of negative energy.’”
Devi giggles, and then I hear an older woman say, “Boombalee!”
It’s not precisely English—or any other language I know—and I wonder if it’s psychic-speak for something important, or if maybe this woman is speaking in tongues or having a stroke, but then she pushes past the beads separating the inner space from the waiting room and scurries toward Devi, arms outstretched.
“Oh, shit,” Devi mutters, looking at me with something akin to panic. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“Sorry about what?”
But she can’t talk now because the woman has pulled her up from her chair and wrapped her in a massive hug. She’s in her late forties, with thick gray-blond hair tied back in a utilitarian braid, and a petite but willowy build. She’s wearing a long skirt and blouse that have an unmistakable “Sedona, Arizona” vibe. For a minute, I think she’s the psychic but then she pulls back and I say aloud, “Holy shit.”
They both turn to look at me beamingly, and it’s so apparent now that I feel retroactively stupid for not having seen it before. The woman looks exactly like Devi, but without the Persian coloring. The same high cheekbones and pointed chin, the same heart-shaped faces with identical, beautiful smiles.
It’s Devi’s mom.
I stick out my hand. “Logan O’Toole. Nice to meet you.”
“Sue Jones-Daryani. What brings you to Madam Psuka’s today? And how come I haven’t seen you in over a week, Boombalee? I miss you.”
“Mom,” Devi says, a little embarrassed. “I’ve been busy. And don’t call me that in public!”
“Boombalee? Devi, I labored for twenty-seven hours with no medication to bring you into this world, and when you came out, you tore my—”
“Mom!” Devi looks seriously alarmed now. “Can you not in front of my colleague?”
“My point is, I’ll call you whatever I want.” Her gray eyes fall back to me and she softens. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Are you making pornography with my daughter?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You have very virile energy, you know. I can feel the pulsing of your sacral chakra from here.”
“Uh...is that something I should get checked out by a doctor?”
Sue tuts at me in just the same way that Devi tutted at me earlier and reaches behind me, pressing her palm against the very top part of my ass. Beside me, Devi makes the kind of groan someone would make if they were willing themselves to die, and when I look over, she’s got her face buried in her hands in mortification.
I, however, am having a great time.
“Ms. Jones-Dayrani, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” I tease as she gives my chakra a few extra pats for good measure.
“Young man, I’ve never had to seduce a single sexual partner in my life, and I’m certain that you’ve never needed to either.”
I give a modest half-shrug.
“Mom, can you please get your hand off Logan’s ass now?”
Sue sighs, as if her daughter is the biggest prude in the world. “Devi, your sacral chakra, on the other hand, is completely blocked. And something’s going on with your heart chakra.” She frowns. “We need to do some Reiki, or maybe you should see Dr. Tammaro for acupuncture. But in the meantime, I recommend some meditation and maybe some vigorous sex to unblock that chakra.”
“I’d be happy to help your daughter with that, ma’am,” I chime in with a wide grin.
Devi’s hands are still on her face. “Isn’t there like a midwifery conference or something that you need to be at?”