Heshook his head. “She died when I was fifteen.”
“Yes.”Regina closed her eyes and outstretched her long, manicured fingers, not quitereaching Greyson's forehead. “Yes, she's showing me a young boy. You were … sosad and … hurt. You were so hurt, weren't you?”
Iturned to watch Greyson's throat shift with a deep, hard swallow as he nodded.“Y-Yeah. I was.”
“Ofcourse, you were. No child should lose a parent. She's showing me letters,”Regina went on, touching her fingers to her temple. “She's showing me a B, or …or maybe it's an E, or, um, it could be an S—”
“Mydad's name is Sebastian,” Grey chimed in, more eager than before. He shiftedforward, to now sit at the edge of his seat.
“Yes!Yes, she's gesturing toward a male, a father figure. He means a lot to you. Yourelied on him so much after her passing. And he relied on you; they loved eachother so—”
“Myparents weren’t together,” Greyson cut in, the hope in his eyes dying just alittle.
Regina’seyes widened with panic. “Oh! No, I must be confusing her love for you. Ofcourse. And how muchyourelied onhim. You did, didn’t you?”
Istifled a snort at her quick attempt at a clean-up, as Greyson slowly noddedand replied, “Yeah, I did.”
Alook of surprise shrouded her over-done features. “Was she sick?”
Immediatelydisappointed, he shook his head. “No, she wasn't.”
Pressingher palm to her forehead, Regina said, “Oh! Oh, of course. An accident. Therewas an accident.”
Thecharade continued longer than it should've, yet I successfully kept mysnickering concealed behind the fist I pressed to my lips. This wasn't myscene, and it wasn't my brother's, either. We weren't strangers to loss. Butthat loss came with a bitterness we didn't care to face. Greyson, however, wasanother story entirely, and when tickets to see the infamous psychic medium,Regina Miller, went on sale, he had jumped at the chance to grab them.Unfortunately, he was also too nervous to go alone and had no problems talkingmy brother and me into tagging along for support.
Andit wasn't that I was a skeptic. I was cool with the idea of an afterlife, and Iwas also willing to believe with reasonable proof. But this woman? Her façadewas so transparent I could easily see right through to the fraud that lurkedbeneath all that caked on makeup.
“Yourmother, grandmother, and friend want me to assure you that they are in a goodplace,” Regina concluded, repeating the information Greyson so easily suppliedearlier. “They are so proud of the man you've become, and they wish you thebest of luck with your band.”
Greysonnodded, his face paled with shock and disbelief. “Th-thank you so much,” hestammered, and my brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Withthat, Regina moved on to the next sucker and left us to mull over theexperience. I listened to Greyson speculate on whether she was the real deal ornot. He injected doubt into his words and tone, but his dominant smile gaveaway his faith.
“Whatdo you think, Vin?” Zach asked, turning to me with widened, bewildered eyes.
Isilently cursed him out for putting me on the spot as I smiled and said, “Sure,yeah. She was pretty good.”
“Youdon’t sound convinced,” Z scoffed, rolling his eyes.
Icould’ve punched him as my eyes darted to Greyson, then back to my brother. “Iam, asshole. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
Heopened his mouth to reply, but before he could push the debate further, Iannounced that I needed a smoke and excused myself from the dark theater.
Outside,standing on a sidewalk in the middle of the greatest city on Earth, I took adeep breath before digging out my pack of Marlboros. The air was balmy andstifling, thick with summer and sweat, but it was still easier to breathe outhere than inside, where I was forced to put on a happy face and lie to mybrother-in-law.
Iwasn't good at a lot of things and lying was pretty high on the list.
“Jesusfuckin' Christ,” I muttered, loud enough for others to hear, but nobody paidany attention. Because this is New York City we're talking about here. Not awhole lot fazes us, and especially not some idiot talking to himself on thesidewalk. It's one of the things I loved about this place. Nobody looks andnobody judges.
Butit could also be that nobody cares, and when I thought of it that way, Iwondered if that was really something to love after all.
Pullinga cigarette from the pack and holding it between my teeth, I patted myself downin search of my lighter. “Where the hell did I put it?” I grumbled, becomingmore frustrated with every passing second. “I just had the damn thing. What didI do, leave it at the freakin’ restaurant?”
“Well,it doesn't look like you have it on you, so I guess so.”
Startled—becausewhy would I expect anybody to actually answer—I looked up from my swattinghands to a pair of laughing, blue eyes, behind a pair of thick-framed glassesand a glossy smirk. She stood against the side of the building, her back to thebricks and her hands dipped casually into her pockets. The smile she woreshrunk when she realized she had my dumbfounded attention, and she shook herhead, breaking out in a nervous laugh.
“Sorry,”she said. “You asked a question, so I thought I'd answer.”
