cursed.
“That’s another thing you’ll have to give up,” Maeva pointed out. “Swearing is a big no-no. Good thing you have a lot of time to change your vocabularly before the baby starts to talk. You can wait a year or so before you start replacing
shit
for
ship
.”
“I’ve got three missed calls from Owen,” Sadie said.
“Shit,” Maeva said. “You’d better call him.” She began to drive toward their next destination.
“I can’t just call him up on the phone and say, ‘You know that time you came over and we had sex multiple times? Well, remember that one time you didn’t use a condom?’”
“Just start by calling him up and asking when he’s coming into town next, and then you can decide exactly how and when to tell him.”
“Good plan. But I’ll just text him instead of calling.” Sadie began texting away and then hit send.
“So what did you say?” Maeva asked.
“I said I’m really busy with work this week and I’ll talk to him in a few days.”
“Chicken.”
“Got that right.”
Sadie’s phone chimed twice and Maeva raised her eyebrows.
“One message is from Owen saying he’ll call me later. He’s very persistent.” Sadie sighed. “The next message is from Zack saying he’s looking forward to our movie date and asking if I’ve decided on a show yet.”
“You can’t be dating Zack while you know you’re pregnant with another man’s baby!” Maeva shouted. Then she added in a calmer voice, “You need to tell him immediately; then give him time to absorb the news before you go on another date with him.”
“So who gets told first then? Zack or Owen?”
“Both. Preferably in the next twenty-four hours.” She accelerated into traffic and shook her head. “Today we’re going to see what we can do to help out with your psychic dilemma, and tomorrow I’m going to help you to tell people. And when I say
people
, I mean everyone: Zack, Owen, your sister, and your mom.”
“What!”
“This is a rip-the-bandage-off-quick situation,” Maeva advised wisely. “You’ll feel better once everyone knows.”
Sadie used up every curse word in her vocabulary and then said, “I doubt that’ll make anything better.”
Soon Maeva steered her car to the curb near the corner of Thomas Street and First Avenue downtown. They got out of the car and Sadie glanced warily at the sign.
K ING C ITY P OTTERY H UT . Underneath in script it said,
Unleash Your Creativity!
“I really don’t need anything ceramic. The last time I tried to make something out of clay it was an ashtray in first grade that looked more like a deformed pancake.”
“We’re not here for pottery,” Maeva replied. “Rudie Hernon owns this place and he’s someone who might be able to help you. He helps all kinds of psychics, mediums, and sensitives when they’re having skill troubles.”
“How does he do that?”
“Every case is different.”
Once inside Sadie and Maeva stopped short. There were five or six rectangular tables crammed with a couple dozen shrieking ten-year-olds. The room smelled of wet clay, paint, and the sweat of prepubescent youths. The noise level was deafening.
Maeva waved to someone across the room. When she headed in that direction Sadie followed. They stopped at a wall of floor-to-ceiling shelving where a very short man was stocking vases in various colors.
“Rudie,” Maeva called out over the sound of children’s squeals.
The guy straightened to his full height, which was about four foot eleven. He wore Coke-bottle-thick glasses and had a black mole on his cheek that had a long thick hair growing from it.
“Maeva!” the man exclaimed. He stepped forward and hugged Maeva around the waist and then reached up and punched her playfully on the shoulder. “You were supposed to bring little Osbert here so I could meet him. I’ve only seen the pictures you’ve posted on Facebook.”
“I’ll bring him by soon,” Maeva promised. She turned and introduced Sadie and
“That’s another thing you’ll have to give up,” Maeva pointed out. “Swearing is a big no-no. Good thing you have a lot of time to change your vocabularly before the baby starts to talk. You can wait a year or so before you start replacing
shit
for
ship
.”
“I’ve got three missed calls from Owen,” Sadie said.
“Shit,” Maeva said. “You’d better call him.” She began to drive toward their next destination.
“I can’t just call him up on the phone and say, ‘You know that time you came over and we had sex multiple times? Well, remember that one time you didn’t use a condom?’”
“Just start by calling him up and asking when he’s coming into town next, and then you can decide exactly how and when to tell him.”
“Good plan. But I’ll just text him instead of calling.” Sadie began texting away and then hit send.
“So what did you say?” Maeva asked.
“I said I’m really busy with work this week and I’ll talk to him in a few days.”
“Chicken.”
“Got that right.”
Sadie’s phone chimed twice and Maeva raised her eyebrows.
“One message is from Owen saying he’ll call me later. He’s very persistent.” Sadie sighed. “The next message is from Zack saying he’s looking forward to our movie date and asking if I’ve decided on a show yet.”
“You can’t be dating Zack while you know you’re pregnant with another man’s baby!” Maeva shouted. Then she added in a calmer voice, “You need to tell him immediately; then give him time to absorb the news before you go on another date with him.”
“So who gets told first then? Zack or Owen?”
“Both. Preferably in the next twenty-four hours.” She accelerated into traffic and shook her head. “Today we’re going to see what we can do to help out with your psychic dilemma, and tomorrow I’m going to help you to tell people. And when I say
people
, I mean everyone: Zack, Owen, your sister, and your mom.”
“What!”
“This is a rip-the-bandage-off-quick situation,” Maeva advised wisely. “You’ll feel better once everyone knows.”
Sadie used up every curse word in her vocabulary and then said, “I doubt that’ll make anything better.”
Soon Maeva steered her car to the curb near the corner of Thomas Street and First Avenue downtown. They got out of the car and Sadie glanced warily at the sign.
K ING C ITY P OTTERY H UT . Underneath in script it said,
Unleash Your Creativity!
“I really don’t need anything ceramic. The last time I tried to make something out of clay it was an ashtray in first grade that looked more like a deformed pancake.”
“We’re not here for pottery,” Maeva replied. “Rudie Hernon owns this place and he’s someone who might be able to help you. He helps all kinds of psychics, mediums, and sensitives when they’re having skill troubles.”
“How does he do that?”
“Every case is different.”
Once inside Sadie and Maeva stopped short. There were five or six rectangular tables crammed with a couple dozen shrieking ten-year-olds. The room smelled of wet clay, paint, and the sweat of prepubescent youths. The noise level was deafening.
Maeva waved to someone across the room. When she headed in that direction Sadie followed. They stopped at a wall of floor-to-ceiling shelving where a very short man was stocking vases in various colors.
“Rudie,” Maeva called out over the sound of children’s squeals.
The guy straightened to his full height, which was about four foot eleven. He wore Coke-bottle-thick glasses and had a black mole on his cheek that had a long thick hair growing from it.
“Maeva!” the man exclaimed. He stepped forward and hugged Maeva around the waist and then reached up and punched her playfully on the shoulder. “You were supposed to bring little Osbert here so I could meet him. I’ve only seen the pictures you’ve posted on Facebook.”
“I’ll bring him by soon,” Maeva promised. She turned and introduced Sadie and
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