Double Dippin': Misty Part 8

"And then what happens to your little girl?"

David shook his head. "I don't know," he said with a groan.

"It would be real selfish of you to leave your child an orphan simply because your wife cheated. People cheat all the time. It's life; divorce her and get over it."

"But I still love her."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Obviously, she doesn't love you."

"But I do everything to satisfy my wife; I can't believe she's cheating on me with one of her coworkers. I found out they go to lunch together, and sometimes they skip eating, if you know what I mean."

"Look, I don't know what to tell you about your problem. My advice is to figure out a child support and custody arrangement for your daughter's sake, and then move on with your life."

"You're right, I need to move on," David said, staring off into s.p.a.ce.

Misty gave him the side eye, thinking to herself, this m.u.t.h.af.u.c.ka is crazy!

Snapping out of whatever zone he was in, he looked at her with a soft smile. "Thanks for listening to me." He took a few steps toward the door and stopped and turned around. "Would it be okay if I left my number with you?"

"For what?"

"In case you see something else in my future," he said, taking a pen from his pocket, prepared to scrawl his number on a piece of paper.

"That's not how this works. I told you what I saw and it's not likely that I'll get a spontaneous read on you with a different outcome."

"Your powers are new, right?"

"Yeah. And...?"

"You never know what might happen. You might see something else."

This janitor with his quiet self has the nerve to be pushy as h.e.l.l. They say you should look out for the quiet ones. I'm gonna accept his number, so I can get rid of his a.s.s. "Put your number in my phone," Misty said, nodding toward the new iPhone that was on the nightstand. She loved the newest version of the iPhone that Brick had bought her; the very sight of it made her want to shout with joy.

David entered his number in the phone and gave her a head nod before exiting her room.

Suddenly, Misty was relieved that she was leaving the hospital tomorrow. In case David had mentioned her prediction to anyone, she didn't want to be around when the news came out that the soft-spoken janitor had gone haywire and committed a double murder and suicide.

The glimpse into the future that Misty offered folks was definitely not for the weak-minded. Hopefully, her paying clients would be able to handle what she told them and possibly alter any unpleasant future events she foresaw.

The apartment Brick found for them was s.p.a.cious and sunny and even more important, it was on the first floor, with their front door leading to the outside. There were no worrisome stairs and no vestibule area. The place was more like a townhome than an apartment. Other than mounted TVs in the living room and bedroom, a nondescript chair in the living room, and two stools in the kitchen, there wasn't any other furniture.

"No point in filling the place with a lot of furniture when you're going to need the s.p.a.ce to wheel around," Brick explained.

I'm not wheeling around, Misty thought with repugnance. It was unrealistic to think that she wouldn't, but she stubbornly held on to the belief that somehow she was going to walk again.

She sat in her new, shiny-wheeled chair while Brick pushed her from one empty room to the next, pointing to bare walls and reminding her that there were huge portraits of her boxed up in her mother's bas.e.m.e.nt that would look great hanging in their new place.

"Nah, leave those pictures where they are. I want to hire a photographer to take some new shots of the two of us together, after my face heals."

She looked up, checking Brick's reaction to the unselfish way she'd included him in the future photo session, but he didn't seem to notice. Misty intended to have blown-up photos of her and Brick all over the place to taunt her mother when she finally caved (she couldn't stay mad at her firstborn child forever) and came over to visit the reunited couple.

Misty's phone, which was resting on her lap like a beloved pet, began to ring. She glanced down at the display and spotted the 610 area code. "It's Gavin. Put him on speaker for me, please."

Brick reached down and deftly swiped and tapped, and then said, "Hold on for Misty."

"Hi, Gavin," she said.

"h.e.l.lo, Misty," Gavin replied cheerfully. "How's the new place?"

"It's nice; Brick has good taste."

"I hear you're recovering beautifully."

"That's a lie! My face is as big as a balloon. It's red, black, and blue and has lumps all over it. There's nothing beautiful about me."

"Don't fret," Gavin clucked like a mother hen. "It won't be long before you're restored to your natural state of loveliness."

There was sincerity in his tone, putting Misty's mind at ease. She no longer feared that Gavin and Dr. Cavanaugh had played a cruel trick on her. Suddenly, her heart quickened at the idea that in a few short weeks, she would no longer be hideous. She wasn't aware that she was crying until the salty tears seeped through the gauze bandaging, stinging the puffy, enflamed skin on her face.

"Misty?" Gavin's concerned voice filled the air.

"Gavin, I'm gonna have to call you back," she said, sniffling.

"Oh, gracious, you sound terrible. Are you in pain? Listen, don't try to be brave, my dear. Take the pain meds the doctor prescribed for you, and I'll check on you tomorrow when you're feeling better."

"Okay." She wiped at her nostrils, the only part of her nose that wasn't covered with bandages.

Brick reached down and tapped the screen, ending the call. Baffled, he asked, "What's wrong? You were feeling fine a few minutes ago. Why're you suddenly crying?"

Observing her inquisitively, Brick dabbed delicately at the tears that fell from her eyes.

"I'm crying because I'm happy, Brick. For a moment, I had a bad feeling about the surgery; now I know everything is going to be fine." There was a glimmer of excitement in her teary eyes and the corners of the lips that poked through the bandages, bunched up together in an attempt to smile.

"I never doubted that everything would work out. You being psychic and all, shouldn't you have already known that?"

"Not really. I can't foresee my own future; I can only predict s.n.a.t.c.hes of events in other people's lives, but you already know that."

"I'm only messing with you." He brushed the top of her hand that was contracted so badly it seemed to be balled into a fist.

Misty regarded her deformed hands. "My hands are going to have to be broken and operated on if I expect to be able to fully use them again. But a different kind of surgeon will have to work on my hands."

"All in good time, Misty. Don't start worrying about that."

"I'm not worrying. Dr. Cavanaugh said I should wait at least six months before I get that work done."

"Good advice. So, what do you want to do? Wanna watch TV? Want me to make you something to eat before I go out?" It wasn't unusual for Brick to take care of Misty. One way or another, he'd always taken care of her.

"I can eat when the nurse gets here. Where're you going?"

"Second interview at the site where the new prison is being built."

"What new prison?"

"I keep forgetting you've been out of it for so long, you don't know about the different things going on in the area. You know they shut down twenty-three schools in Philadelphia; they cut out sports and art programs and laid off four thousand teachers, yet the state is spending millions to build a new prison in Collegeville. Folks are p.i.s.sed, saying that since they're depriving kids of a proper education, they won't have any choice but to end up incarcerated in the new prison. It's in Montgomery County-only a thirty-minute drive from here. It pays thirty an hour. Not bad, right?"

"That's good, but don't get too comfortable working there."

"Why not? Do you see me hitting the lottery in the future?" Brick joked.

"I need you to work with me once I get my business up and running. I'll pay you a whole lot more than thirty an hour."

"Is that right?" Brick said, smiling as he indulged Misty's fantasy.

"You think I'm playing, but you'll soon see how serious I am."

Still smiling, Brick strolled toward the door. "Call me if you need anything."

CHAPTER 12.

Brick wasn't hired for the construction job in Montgomery County, but he did get a job at a site in Old City, Philadelphia. Eager to start earning a living, he left the apartment at practically dawn. Audrey, the home care nurse, arrived at seven and was scheduled to care for Misty for four hours. She dressed and groomed Misty, prepared breakfast for her, and dispensed her meds. Then she transferred her to her wheelchair, planning to park her in front of the TV for the remaining hours of her shift.

Audrey never commented when the tiny p.r.i.c.kles occurred whenever her flesh connected with Misty's. Apparently, she hadn't read the article about Misty and maybe she hadn't noticed. Whatever the case, Misty was glad the nurse didn't pester her with a request for a reading. She'd seen Audrey's boring life review, but oddly, hadn't seen the woman's future. It didn't matter, Audrey's future was no doubt as boring as she was.

Audrey was in her mid-thirties, but had an old lady way about her. She wore big, goofy, thick-lensed gla.s.ses. Her complexion was dreadful with acne scars on her cheeks and a fresh cl.u.s.ter of adult acne on her forehead and chin. Her crinkly-textured hair was pulled tightly into a plain, low bun. Her clothing was dreary and shapeless and she wore black, orthopedic-looking nurse's shoes. Audrey was the epitome of old-fashioned, and with those thick gla.s.ses, she reminded Misty of an ugly schoolteacher she'd once had named Ms. Peabody. Laughing to herself, Misty began calling Audrey "Ms. Peabody" in her mind.

Misty fiddled with her iPad while Audrey knitted something uninteresting and chuckled through a rerun of Two and a Half Men. The doorbell chimed, startling both of them.

Audrey eyed the door suspiciously. "Are you expecting company?"

"Looking like this?" Misty pointed to her bandaged face and scowled beneath the gauze.

The doorbell sounded over and over, as if someone was persistently jabbing the b.u.t.ton.

"Someone sure is impatient," Audrey remarked. "It's probably one of those cable companies trying to get you to switch." She grudgingly hefted herself out of the chair and moved swiftly toward the door, intent on getting rid of the annoying salesperson.

"h.e.l.lo. I'm here to see Ms. Delagardo," said the familiar soft-spoken voice that Misty had only heard over the phone. Gavin had taken it upon himself to come to her apartment, unannounced and uninvited. His money allowed him to take liberties, she supposed.

"And who should I say is here to see her?" the nurse inquired.

"Tell Ms. Delagardo that her secret admirer is here," Gavin said in a joking tone, apparently unwilling to divulge his ident.i.ty.

"He's a friend of mine; let him in," Misty said in a voice as loud as she could manage with bandages nearly covering her mouth.

Gavin glided toward her with the ent.i.tled air of those who've inherited wealth, and Misty was instantly struck by his golden handsomeness. Well over six feet tall, his frosted blond hair hung past his chin and was coifed in a style that looked carefully tousled. His pale gold slacks matched the highlights in his hair and his china blue silk shirt, which complemented his eyes, billowed behind him, giving him the appearance of a n.o.bleman from a previous century-a count, a duke, or perhaps a marquis.

Misty glanced at the gold watch on his wrist and imagined it must have cost as much as a luxury car. He reeked of money and unlike some rich folks who downplayed their wealth, slopping around in faded jeans and T-shirts, Gavin had a great sense of style and was very well put together in rich fabrics and expensive, sparkling jewelry.

"Well, well. Aren't you a striking figure," Misty quipped. "You look so aristocratic, I feel like I should be addressing you as Sir Gavin."

Pleased by the compliment, Gavin pursed his lips, suppressing a proud smile.

"Have a seat." Misty pointed to the lone chair that had been occupied by the nurse.

"Would you two like some coffee or tea?" Audrey asked, needing to occupy herself now that the unexpected visitor had made himself comfortable in the only chair in the living room.

"Nothing for me, but I'd like to speak to Ms. Delagardo in private, if you don't mind," Gavin said, his sultry mouth turned down apologetically.

"Oh, all right; I'll watch TV in the bedroom," Audrey said and gathered the big canvas bag that contained her yarn and needles.

In an authoritative tone, Gavin said to Audrey, "Why don't you take a thirty-minute break? Go outside and get some fresh air," he suggested.

"Sure, if that's okay with you, Misty?"

"I don't mind. Why don't you make it a forty-five-minute break? Gavin and I have a lot to talk about," Misty replied.

Gavin's blue eyes swept around the apartment, making sure Audrey had vacated the premises before he spoke. "I hate to barge in on you like this...especially while you're convalescing," he began, "but I'm dying to get a reading. I had a dream last night that Randolph and I were back together and I'm so excited, I had to see you and hear every detail about the wonderful future my beloved and I are going to share." He eagerly scooted to the edge of his seat, intertwining his long, elegant fingers.

Misty wasn't in the mood to do a reading. The flashes of light that accompanied the images had become blindingly painful since the surgery. But she couldn't refuse the man who had financed her new face, and so she lifted her good arm as high as she could, and said, "Give me your hand."

Gavin gently grasped Misty's crippled hand and uttered a soft gasp when he felt the sting. Misty closed her eyes and winced as the flashing lights preceded the slide show of Gavin's life.

She saw Gavin as a baby wearing a Philadelphia Flyers shirt and knit cap. He was crying as if offended by the hockey attire. Time progressed and he looked to be around seven or eight, and there he was, wearing a football uniform, out on the field, holding a football, limply. Misty got the impression he would have been more comfortable holding a Barbie doll. During his college years, Gavin looked much more comfortable in his skin. He was a dashing young man, the center of attention in his small circle of eccentric friends, artsy types. And later, she observed him fall in love for the first time with a Frenchman while vacationing in Paris.

Misty closed her eyes tightly as she viewed Gavin's future. There were two people struggling in the shadows, Gavin and someone else. Gavin hit the floor. "Christ," she muttered upon realizing that yet another violent future was unfolding before her all-seeing eyes. She was grateful for the bandages that hid the grimace on her face as she watched a silver candelabra being wielded like a weapon. The candelabra was covered in blood and blond hairs. Was it Gavin's hair? Misty wondered. Was someone going to bash in Gavin's skull? Oh, for f.u.c.k's sake, how was she supposed to tell him this bulls.h.i.t?

Misty opened her eyes, inhaling in gasps and exhaling frantically, as if she'd emerged from battle. The readings exhausted her, but viewing b.l.o.o.d.y, murderous visions made her pulse race and it was beginning to take a toll on her emotional well-being.

Gavin sat grim-faced on the edge of the chair, as if he knew his future was fraught with horror. "Misty, you seem petrified. Something rattled you terribly. What was it; did you see something ominous? Please tell me what you saw," he urged her anxiously.

"I...uh, I saw you as a baby dressed in a hockey uniform. And when you were older, maybe eight or nine, I saw you playing football without much enthusiasm."

"Ugh. I've always hated seeing baby pictures of me dressed in sportswear, and it breaks my heart that my parents forced me to play Little League football when they were clearly aware that I loathed all games that required strength and physical prowess. I tried; I really did," he whined pitifully, "but my coach hated me and kept me on the bench. And being on the bench was where I belonged; it was my preference. But my dad wanted his boy to play. He threatened the coach and the entire county with a lawsuit if I wasn't allowed to play."

Gavin swallowed hard and closed his eyes in agony as he recalled the brief period when he attempted to play football. "I was such a disaster on the field; I had no idea of what I was expected to do with that d.a.m.n football. And running in those heavy cleats..." His words trailed off briefly as he shook his head at the painful memory. "Running in those things was a nightmare. To this day, my gut clenches and my hands shake if I see anything a.s.sociated with that sport."

Misty gave her best impression of nodding in understanding when she actually didn't give a d.a.m.n about Gavin's poor-little- rich-boy childhood. "But you became comfortable with yourself in college," she said encouragingly. "You found friends with similar interests who accepted you as a gay man."

"That's so true. You're amazing. How do you see these things? Do you read minds?"