Poisoned Pearls Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the
store; not of just how frigid my own mother was, how inflexible she would be
when it came to her own daughter’s sexual preferences; and not even of that
time at Kitty’s when that asshole I’d met for a first date had tried slip me a roofie and the bartender had saved me by “accidentally”
knocking over my drink, then talking to me later when she’d gone to the
bathroom.
    I never figured out anything until well after the fact.
Never saw anything coming, despite my name. Might have just been irony, or the
gods fucking with me.
    “Here,” Sam said. She opened up her mink and drew an
embossed white and black business card out of an engraved silver case.
    I didn’t have to hold it up to my nose to catch the sweet
scent of her lemongrass perfume.
    Great. Now Thai food was going to make me horny.
    “Text me,” Sam commanded. “If anything unusual starts
happening to you. If you start to see things.”
    “What, do you think I’m suddenly going to start having
hallucinations or something?” I’d never been into hallucinogenic drugs. That
just always seemed like a straight line to the loony bin. I’d heard too many
stories of losers who’d ended up taking a long walk off a short bridge after
taking a few hits of windowpane.
    Plus, there were rumors that the right combination of
hallucinogenic drugs would unlock your paranormal abilities.
    I liked being fully human, a mundane, thank you very much.
    “No. Yes. I don’t know,” Sam said. “But just—text me.”
    “For anything?” I asked. Might as well see if I could get a
rise out of her. “Maybe just for coffee?”
    “Out of your league,” Sam rearticulated. “I don’t do mundanes .”
    “Maybe you just haven’t tried the right one,” I suggested
flirtatiously.
    “Please,” she said, rolling her eyes as she refastened her
coat. “And no, you won’t be having visions if you try to touch me. Just
visitations from the cops.”
    “Hey, it’s okay. I know. You’re special ,” I told her. “One of the blessed. ”
    “You know why we call ourselves that, right?” Sam asked.
“It’s the only way to get through the damned training. To believe that you’re
better than everyone else, smarter, more capable. There’s a high flunk-out
rate, and an even higher suicide rate. You have to tell yourself you’re
special. Make yourself believe it. Otherwise, you won’t make it.”
    Like I was going to feel sorry for the poor little
over-indulged rich girl.
    I’d been one, once. I knew all about being special .
    “Don’t let me spoil your evening, princess,” I told her.
“I’ll just remember to be careful what I see.”
    “You do that,” Sam said. Her face froze in that air of
superiority her kind had. That specialness wrapped itself around her as snugly as that fur coat.
    But now, I could tell that it was a mask. I knew her
attitude would never keep her warm.
    Damn her for making me see even a little bit of her life.
    ***
    There wasn’t as much down time at the store that night as I
would have liked. Idiots kept coming in, stumbling out of the cold, looking for
smokes (which we sold, and the cause of my current nicotine habit) and for
drugs (which I didn’t sell because I valued my skin too much) and for sex
(which again, I didn’t sell, though I did direct a few of the less idiotic
assholes down toward Angela’s corner).
    I kept calling people on the phone in between interruptions,
standing in the empty sex & toy shop, the heat cranked up and soft rock
ballads playing in the background. I talked into the phone like it was a mic , though I generally hated when people did that. I just
couldn’t bear to hold the headset closer to my ear—that made everything
seem too personal.
    The whole night turned cruel, regardless. First de’Angelo , then Tess, then Andre all assumed that I was
calling about some party or another, wanting to get together over the holidays.
It was nice to have so much support. More than one wanted to come over,