Sin & Chocolate (Demigod of San Francisco 1)

“Can’t sit in the car. You might be kidnapped, remember?” I grinned.

With both kids reluctantly helping, I only had to make one trip to my favorite spot. I set my chair on the faded number fifteen.

“Why are we basically the only ones here?” Daisy looked down the strip of tarmac beside the wide, stain-spotted sidewalk. A few crews of people struggled with tents and other items, but it was still largely deserted. As I’d expected it would be this early. Cars crawled past on the street beyond, fighting the constant traffic on the way to the busy tourist area. Only a few pieces of litter fluttered in the salty breeze coming from the bay behind us.

I glanced up at the white-blue sky, the fog trying to steal the show before the sun set. Then I turned toward the bay and looked out at the sparkling waters splashing against the man-made barriers intended to keep the boats safe in their slips. A massive naval ship jutted out in the distance, docked so tourists could check it out. A ways out, Alcatraz haunted the waters, visited by tourists who occasionally brought a spectral trespasser back to the mainland.

“Two reasons,” I said, setting up three TV trays that would act as a barrier for the clients. A normal vendor would have a table, and while I could’ve afforded a cheap one, I didn’t want people leaning on it and getting closer. Where they sat was close enough. “One is because the tourists like a bit of a scare, so they don’t typically come out until about dusk. And two, a lot of the magical people who set up shop here think the darkness brings out the ghosts and ghouls.”

“And it doesn’t?” Mordecai asked.

“No. They’re out all the time.”

“So why would they think it does?” Daisy asked, strangely giving me her undivided attention.

And then it dawned on me—the real reason they wanted to come with me.

“You two want to know how my magic works, don’t you?” I smiled to myself and shook my head. “You had me at ‘kidnap.’ Very clever.”

“Well, I mean, you do need us along.” Daisy straightened up in self-importance. “There’s that crazy-handsome stranger who gets the ol’ heart thumping and that you wouldn’t mind taking for a spin—”

I had definitely forgotten a few things from our sum-up chat after the bar last night.

“—who will be less likely to kidnap you or us if we all stick together. And then there is the reason you are not making money at this. Because Pippin the Hobbit looked it up, and for a Ghost Whisperer, we think you’re in the top tier. Those people make a lot of money. Like the ones who get jobs solving crimes for cops. The good ones make bank.”

“The good ones don’t have priors.”

“Told you that was why she didn’t get a job like that,” Mordecai mumbled, elbowing her.

She elbowed him back. “Okay, but you could rid places of paranormal activity.” She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Or hunt down loved ones and help them with the transition.”

“Only the best make money at those things,” I said, checking the arrangement of my furniture. I snatched up the roll of yellow tape and drew a line around the client chair. Then got to work taping down the scarves sectioning off my chair. Everything I put out was the bare minimum. I’d learned the hard way what was necessary.

“But you are the best,” Daisy said with absolute conviction.

“Only the best, and those with enough money and connections to get a business going. I don’t have either of those things. Most businesses take a loss for the first few years. Years. As the sole breadwinner, I don’t have that kind of time to work my butt off for no pay. I also don’t have any money to advertise with, or people skills to bamboozle patrons into hiring me. Or the desire to do this line of work in the first place.”

“I’m sensing a severe defeatist attitude,” Daisy mumbled out of the side of her mouth to Mordecai.

He nodded solemnly. “That’s the first thing we have to fix.”

“How?” she asked. “Hypnosis?”

“Do you think that’d be strong enough to override her personality?”

I sighed and grabbed the tarot deck before flinging it onto the middle rug-covered TV tray. Ignoring their muttering, I dropped the cracked crystal ball next it. It rolled a little before thankfully stopping. I didn’t feel like chasing it down the sidewalk like last time.

“I should have brought my clipboard.” Daisy clucked her tongue while looking over my setup. “I’ll need to take a gaggle of notes to figure out how to fix this situation, I can already tell. I mean, no part of this says ‘professional.’ Not one part.”

“A gaggle?” I chuckled. “And there is one part.” I pointed at my hair. “Very trendy.” I ran my hands over the rugs on the TV trays to make sure my magic was still firing. “There is no need to revamp. I’m not going to be doing this long enough to make a thing out of it. This will do for a couple weeks, hopefully less.” I did the same thing to the other two rugs I’d brought before throwing them at the kids. “Here. Sit on those. The clients can stew in their own…problems.”

I adjusted my chair so it was facing sideways, away from the kids, and finally took my seat. I stretched my legs and clasped my fingers behind my head before looking out over the water.

“What are you doing now?” Daisy asked.

“Waiting for my first patron. It’ll probably take a while. You might want to settle in.”

“Are you sure?” Mordecai asked softly. “Is…that guy…”

“That was fast,” Daisy said.

“What?” I asked, noticing a couple of people ambling along the sidewalk, none of them looking my way for too long. They either didn’t want to be seen at the freak show in broad daylight, or were legitimately trying to get somewhere and didn’t want me to think they were paying customers. Some of the stall owners yelled and jeered at passersby, trying to get business. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“You the witch that sees dead people?” someone asked in an East Coast accent. A rough-looking man in his forties entered my peripheral vision before stopping in front of my TV trays, ignoring the chair two feet behind him. He put his hand on the middle TV tray, intending to lean over the divider and into my space, except my subtle defense system wobbled dangerously. He straightened up slowly, not happy his aggressive approach had been thwarted.

He was the pushy, bossy type who thought everyone was put on this earth to wait on him or steal from him. Or both…at the same time. That about summed up all of my bosses.

Three people waited at his back, an important-looking dude with a buzzcut and a stern face, and two slim guys in their thirties who looked like they needed a good meal.

I redirected my gaze out over the bay. “I’m not a witch.”

“Right, yeah. Whatever. You that broad?” The man shifted impatiently. “I was told to look for…this type of setup.”

“She’s that broad,” Daisy said. “The best there is. At your service—”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Sign me up,” he said. The client chair squeaked as the man sat.

I took a last glimpse at the calming water before turning my head in his direction. “Don’t you want to know the particulars? Like the services I perform and the amount I charge?”

“I know all that. A buddy used you a while back. I been wanderin’ around this spot looking for you, but you ain’t been on scene.”

He said it like an accusation. Him and me—we weren’t going to end up the best of friends.

I grumpily got up and moved my chair to face him. A couple more people were wandering along the sidewalk now, looking in my direction. They were interested in what I did.

Daisy clearly noticed it. “She needs a sign,” she whispered to Mordecai. “Or, like…a scarf on her head or something.”

“I don’t need a sign,” I said. “That just encourages people.”

“I don’t think she’d do well if she went into business for herself,” Mordecai whispered to Daisy.

“Understatement,” Daisy replied.

I clasped my hands in my lap so I didn’t bitch-slap someone, then calmly looked at the man in front of me. His shiny black hair was slicked back over his head and all the stubble had been cleared from his jaw. A crisp suit covered his stocky frame, bulging up over his belt, where I knew a gun probably lurked. His shiny gold watch screamed expensive, as did his gaudy cufflinks.

All of the glitz and shine didn’t detract from the overall feeling of roughness he exuded. If I had to guess, his profession was less than reputable. The harsh set of his jaw, his permanently clenched fists, and the way he perched on the chair like he would shake my services out of me—they all told me he was someone I didn’t want hanging around for long. I’d end up like those poor sods shadowing him.

“What is it you want me to do?” I asked, though you didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.

He braced his forearms on his knees, trying to cut down the distance between us. “My buddy said you are discreet.”

“Yeah. Though if a police officer asks me the right questions, I will answer.”