Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,56

our… little conversation,” she said as the door opened and a tired looking woman stood there. She and Marty said their hellos, and I took a step closer, figuring Bailey and I should introduce ourselves soon—well, if Layla Clemmons hadn’t already met Bailey, that is.

I didn’t say anything in response to Bailey, which Bailey must have mistaken as my being angry because she held up two hands in a defensive gesture. “You have to understand—Marty is a good guy. The greatest guy. My best friend. We went to school together when we were both living in Portland. I had a... a weird reputation, to put it mildly.” She took a deep breath. “No one believed me when I told them I was seeing the ghost of a murdered cheerleader. And when I accused a well-liked faculty member of the crime... well, you can guess how well that went over.” She nodded as she took another deep breath and started into another long-winded explanation. “I was eventually kicked out of school. I made bad choices and I had a record. Got into what I realize, in hindsight, was a very icky and unhealthy relationship with the lawyer representing me. We got married when I was nineteen and divorced when I was thirty-eight. He took pretty much everything I had, except for my six Pomeranians: Greg, Peter, Bobby, Marcia, Jan, and Cindy.”

I glanced back at Marty and Layla, who were still busily chatting and paying us zero attention. Bailey, meanwhile, made a face at the ground, like even talking about the ex left a bad taste in her mouth. I could empathize. Every time I thought of Jeremy, a taste like bitter bile welled up in my mouth and it was all I could do not to vomit.

“Anyway, my ex was thorough,” Bailey continued as I wondered how much time we would have until Marty beckoned us forward and into the house. But, as I looked at him, it seemed he was still lost in conversation with Layla.

“Most of my family died or they live out of state,” Bailey continued with a shrug. “I didn’t have a place to stay or money to rent a hotel room. Marty heard about my situation and he invited me to stay with him, free of charge. That’s the kind of guy he is. And he didn’t even seem upset when he realized I was bringing the Pomeranians with me.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said and I meant it. Marty was a good guy. Clearly.

She nodded again. “I’m making enough money now that I was able to move out of his house. Anyway, the point is—Marty doesn’t have a bad bone in his body and he’d give you the shirt off his back.”

“So, what does that have to do with me?” I asked. “And whether or not I might have been dating him? Which, I can assure you, I’m not,” I added in quickly, lest she got the wrong idea again.

She nodded. “Marty doesn’t exactly know how to pick women.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, his girlfriends haven’t exactly treated him well.” She nodded and her eyes grew sad. “The last one stole his Flex.”

“His what?”

“His car—he drove a Ford Flex.”

“And she just…”

“Took it,” Bailey interrupted with a nod. “That’s why he’s driving the hearse—actually the dentist in town gave Marty the hearse.”

“Lorcan?” I asked as Bailey nodded. “Why would a dentist even have a hearse?” I asked.

The corner of Bailey’s mouth twitched. “Your guess is as good as mine. Lorcan Rowe is an odd duck.”

“So he fits in around here.”

This time Bailey laughed as Marty turned to face us and waved us forward. “Anyway, I really am sorry. How about we start over?” she asked as she turned to face me, making no motion to head toward the house.

“Yes, let’s start over.”

She held out a hand and flashed me a sunny smile. “I’m Bailey Bennett, by the way. I don’t think Marty mentioned my last name. I’m a medium and I work at Spook Society. I’m the proud mother of six Pomeranians, I adore Franzia, I’m an Aries, and I think Desi Arnaz was one of the sexiest men alive.”

I took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Holly Morton, but people call me Poppy. I come from a long line of gypsies and I make potions. I have an eleven-year-old son named Finn. The only wine I like is Moscato and I’m a Cancer. And I’d say I’m more of a Chris Hemsworth sort