Page 60 of Kill Me Again: Psychics
“Does he have a job?”
“Yes. A good one. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“He’s currently suspended.”
She closed her eyes. “Of course he is.”
“He’s had some problems.”
She gave a nod filled with resignation.
“Don’t do that. Did he seem awful just now?”
“We didn’t really talk. I glared. He smiled.”
That made me smile. “Sounds about right. He’s a good guy.”
“You said that about Carl.”
“And I was wrong. I’m not this time.”
“And when Baxter steals your bed?”
“Actually, he bought me a bed.”
She frowned. “You hadn’t replaced the bed. Why didn’t you tell me? We would have helped you out.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
She abandoned her chair and joined me on the sofa, averting her gaze so sharply it was a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Please fix your robe. I don’t want to spend years in therapy because I’ve seen parts of you I never wanted to see.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I rearranged the folds of fabric. “I was in a rush to get down here.”
“I get the impression he can look after himself.”
“Yes and no…”
She sighed. “Okay… I’ll bite. Tell me all about Baxter.”
I did, making sure not to leave anything out. The moments when she expressed incredulity were unsurprising. I’d done the same. When I finished, there was a long silence while she processed everything. “I’m not mad,” I said when it dragged on long past being comfortable. “I know it all sounds batshit crazy, but it’s true.”
“So if he’d lived, he’d be…?”
“Forty-three.”
She considered that for a moment. “And he can read minds? It’s not some sort of con?”
“He can.”
“So he was probably reading mine earlier?”
“Probably.”
She frowned. “That’s invasive.”
“You get used to it.”
