A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,32
smile on my lips that didn’t reach my eyes. “I think you just lost your voice from screaming. You’ll get it back in no time.”
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. I wasn’t convinced either.
“You’ll be calling me foul names again tomorrow,” I promised. “Wanna flip me off?”
Birdie shook her head no. My chest tightened.
“You want me to flip you off?” I suggested, desperately needing her to smile.
Again, she shook her head no.
“Umm… you want me to flip Gram off?”
That plan of action got a weak grin.
“Excellent,” I said. “One middle finger salute to my grandmother coming right up.”
Birdie had aged dramatically in a few short minutes. It was an odd observation to make since she was already dead, but it was as if the admission took what life was left right out of her.
No more Ouija board for Birdie. If I needed to speak to her again, I was going in. To hell with being careful. I lost the privilege the day I’d turned forty and started seeing dead people.
Besides, how much damage could one more freaking mind dive do?
“There’s someone living inside Missy,” I said.
Heather stared at me open-mouthed. “Missy’s possessed?”
Heather had come back over when I texted her there might be a problem. She’d told Missy that one of her clients needed assistance. It was ten at night, but everyone knew Heather worked twenty-four-seven.
It wasn’t a total lie…
I wasn’t exactly a client since I technically worked for Heather as a paralegal, not that I’d been to work in a while. Jennifer and June worked for Heather, too. We’d all left our old firm, run by my newly discovered pappy, John Travolta, when Heather had decided to go out on her own.
Best move I’d ever made.
She’d raised our pay, included medical, insisted on a bonus and had a profit-sharing plan. It was beyond generous, but then again, so was Heather.
“No, Missy’s not possessed,” I assured her, scanning the living room to make sure Birdie wasn’t floating around. I couldn’t afford to lose the rest of my auditory senses if she got upset again. “I think Missy’s a Soul Keeper.”
“That’s real?” Heather asked, scratching her head. “I’ve honestly never heard of a Soul Keeper until this afternoon.”
“Apparently, yes,” I confirmed. “Birdie, whose real name is Ethel, but wants to be called Birdie, told me.”
“Told you what?” Heather asked, walking over to the couch and gently pushing Karen and Donna over to make room for herself.
“Let me backtrack,” I said, pacing the living room. “First off, Ethel was a hooker and died shortly after giving a politician a blow job.”
“He killed her over a blow job?” Heather choked out, appalled.
“Umm… no,” I said, unable to swallow back my wildly inappropriate laugh. “She had a heart attack after blowing the politician. My guess is that the blow job wasn’t lethal.”
“Got it. And that has something to do with Missy?” she asked, confused.
“No. I’m doing a terrible job with this story.”
Heather gave me a lopsided grin. “I’m going to have to agree.”
“Thank you,” I said with an eye roll.
“Welcome,” she replied.
I kept moving around the room. If I sat down, I might implode. My brain was carrying too much information, yet not enough… It was a frustrating spot to be in.
“When Missy and I were doing the dishes, she told me the story of the Soul Keepers.”
“And?” Heather pressed.
“And even though she thinks it’s a wives’ tale, I don’t believe it is,” I said, picking up my pace and jogging in circles.
“You’re making me dizzy,” Heather said.
“Can’t be helped,” I replied. “Gotta move.”
“Fine. Keep talking.”
“Roger that,” I said, using the ottoman as a hurdle jump. “So, a soul goes into a Soul Keeper when an Angel wishes it ill.”
“What the hell?” Heather muttered.
“Exactly what I thought,” I said, breaking into jumping jacks. “And Missy’s great-granny told her that when a soul is ready to move on, the Soul Keeper has to find a Death Counselor to help.”
Heather gasped. “Get out of town.”
“I’d love to,” I replied with a laugh. “No can do since I just took a fictional two-week vacation with the Grim Reaper. So anyhoo, Birdie didn’t know Missy when she was alive. She became aware of Missy after she died.”
“Was that why she was so attached to her this afternoon?”
“Yes, and also because Birdie believes that Missy is carrying the soul of a person she knows,” I said, dropping to the floor and doing pushups to change it up.
“She told you that?” Heather asked, now pacing the room.