Twice Bitten, Once Shy: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #5

Chapter 8

Hot Dinner, Cold Reading

Assigned seating? The last time I had assigned seating, I was a little shit in kindergarten.

The early evening weather is perfect for a group dinner on the upper level. Three dozen attendees, some crew members, the presenters, and event staff settle in for views and brews before the meal is served. The Curd Queen, having disembarked, barely chugs along faster than the lazy current.

As Ivy explains, the assigned seating is to, "Make sure the presenters are evenly distributed among the attendees. This makes it easier for everyone to warm up to each other." Jade assures Zandra it'll be "fun," too.

So long as I don't have to sit next to that creep Aaron, I guess I'm fine with this. Wanted to grab some food and go back to my room.

Zandra shuffles along the tables and chairs, watching for a placard with her name on it. She avoids eye contact with the attendees looking equally lost.

Please not next to Chad and Bexley. Please not next to Chad and Bexley.

"Oh, hey, Zandra. You're over here," comes Chad's voice three tables away. He stands up and waves his arms like he's signaling a helicopter. His unzipped leather jacket flaps at his sides, treating everyone to a good look at the bones of his ribs.

Ugh. Shit.

Zandra groans and scoots by Rev. Cash on her way over. He's already quoting Bible verses to a group of enthralled women. Somewhere in the distance, pDano® laughs a little too loud.

"See? We were meant to be here," Bexley says.

Zandra plops down in a chair across from Chad and Bexley. The short walk winds her more than normal. She coughs into her sleeve, and then sparks a cigarette.

I hope it's not just us three at this table.

"Can I borrow one? Mine got wet when we, you know, fell in the water and everything," Chad says, referring to the cigarettes.

"No," Zandra says.

"OK, OK, cool, cool. Just so you know, I've got a dollar. I wouldn't borrow it for free," Chad says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and rolls a soggy wad of money onto the table.

Bexley looks at the wad, then at Chad. "Did you lose your wallet again?"

"Yeah, in the river when we fell in. There wasn't anything in there anyway," Chad says.

"Oh, wow. Lucky," Bexley says.

"Yeah, so lucky."

I'm not going to make it through another dinner with these two fuck-for-brains.

"One isn't going to last you this trip anyway. Answer is still no," Zandra says.

Zandra takes a deep breath in. Were it not for the company, the fresh air, the views of the wooded shoreline, and the soft gurgle of the Curd Queen cutting through the water would be downright hypnotic. Instead, she watches Bexley grab a fat stack of napkins and dab the fresh "stitches" on her arm.

"If anyone asks, it's ketchup," Bexley says to Zandra and places the napkins back on the table.

Another couple takes a seat at the table. Fortunately for Zandra, they're more interested in Cherry Peach's presentation about camming.

As a couple? Or one films the other?

Zandra doesn't ask. She lights another cigarette and watches Rev. Cash hold hands in prayer with his new flock.

A few more attendees sit down as well. They look to be attending on their own, and they're too shy to say what they're here for. A silence drapes over the table, interrupted only by Zandra's coughing and smoking.