Page 35 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

HOW TO SUMMON YOUR DEAD UNCLE: PART TWO

Maggie

Katie arrived early to help set up for the séance.

She was more than ecstatic to find out Graham would be joining us.

So much so that I almost felt like I was in one of those movies Mary and I would watch as kids, where the most important part of the evening was how the girl looked.

I felt like a frickin teenager, and it was all Katie’s fault.

“We need to make you look like you don’t care, but hot,” Katie said as she barged through my front door, carrying a bag filled with supplies for the séance.

I stared at her like she had eight eyes. “Why? I’m not the one trying to fuck a ghost.”

“You’re right… but what you are trying to do is woo that handsome jerk that babysits you every night. Besides, I’ve seen you staring at his ass, so you can’t deny it.”

“What part of him haven’t I been staring at?” I said to the room.

“I don’t know, but you stood so close between his thighs at the club, you probably got pregnant.”

“No—,” I gasped as last night came back to me. “Fuck!” I covered my mouth as the memory of a very pissed Brittany flashed before my eyes. “He had a date!”

“Correction—he came with a date,” Katie said, tugging me up the stairs to my closet. “He left with your glitter in his hair, and your vomit on her shoes.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, then spoke through my hand covering my mouth. “Katie, I told her Graham wanted to watch me with my sex toys.”

Katie threw her head back, and the loudest cackle escaped her black lips.

“That’s not the worst of it.” I collapsed face down onto my bed. “I tried to give him a blowjob on the way home.” I said, voice muffled in my comforter.

Katie paused mid-rummage through my closet. “I’m sorry—what?” She asked, poking her head out with a crazed glint in her eye.

I rolled to my side, facing her. “He wouldn’t let me—something about how he doesn’t fuck drunk girls.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Hmm, not quite as big of a jerk as I previously thought.”

“And then… this morning after breakfast…” heat rose in my cheeks, “he pulled me close and kissed me on the forehead.”

Katie shut the closet door like it owed her money. “Bitch. That’s not nothing. That’s pregame. You’re gonna need waterproof mascara, because I guarantee this man is going to be balls deep in you.”

“God, you're blunt.” I said.

“Don’t you get it, Maggie?” she threw her hands in the air, her frustration obvious. “Forehead kisses are for wives.”

“It was probably nothing.”

“It was morning. You were sober. He was sober. That means he meant it. That’s worse. ”

“It wasn’t soft though,” I admitted, the memory flaring into my cheeks like a sunburn. My stomach flipped saying it out loud. “It was like he did it before he could stop himself.”

“Exactly. Which means he’s spiraling. He’ll show up tonight pretending it didn’t mean anything, and you’re gonna look like this whole damn temptation that he’ll not only want to, but need to devour.”

She plopped the pile of clothes she’d picked out at the foot of my bed. “Try this first.” She held out one of my go-to’s for date night. A flowy satin blouse with a plunging neckline.

“Jesus. I don’t want to look desperate.”

“You won’t.” She said, shoving the shirt at me.

I pulled my tee over my head—exposing myself—and snatched the shirt out of her hands.

“God, Maggie, if I had boobs like those, I’d never wear a shirt again.” She lifted her sweater and flashed me her pierced tits, sighing dramatically. “Trade me. It looks like I’m smuggling stress balls.”

“You’re insane,” I muttered, slipping the blouse over my head.

“No. Honest. You’ve got goddess tits. Own it.”

“I’m thirty-six with squish in all the wrong places.”

Katie snorted. “You mean squish in all the right places? You’ve got major MILF energy. You walk into a séance with a bra that lifts those girls up, and that cop’s gonna forget his own name.”

She twisted her face, looking at how the blouse draped, then tugged at the hem. “You’ve got curves like a forbidden spell, babe. Stop hiding them.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop her when she swapped out the blouse for my black halter with little beads dangling from the hem.

“Trust me,” she said, pulling my hair back into a makeshift updo. “Hot mess witch is a look and he’ll be into it.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I said, peeling my leggings off and stepping into my black distressed skinny jeans.

“He’s been humiliated by me, stabbed, and seen me puke—twice.

And now he’s coming over to watch you try to bang my dead uncle?

” I paced the room. “He doesn’t even believe in ghosts, there’s no way he’s actually going to be interested in someone like me. ”

“Girl, breathe.” She grabbed my shoulders. “He said he’s coming, right?”

I nodded.

“Knows what a séance is?”

Another nod.

“Then news flash—he’s coming for you , not the ghosts.”

Katie’s words didn’t actually make me feel any better. If anything, they freaked me the fuck out. From the rumors, he was a player. But from what I’d seen, players didn’t act the way he did when he was with me.

I barely had time to grab my red cardigan before Katie wrangled me to the vanity like she was prepping a corpse for glamour shots. Claw clip. Loose strands. Instant makeover. I let her work—mostly because arguing took energy I didn’t have.

“You. Look. Perfect.” She said, squeezing my shoulders. “You hardly have to try to get a man to turn his head.”

I let out a small breath. “Thanks. Unfortunately, getting them to stay without a little magical coercion is a different story.”

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about Graham—at least not counting the ways I could turn him on.

But my heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

I just hoped Uncle Silas showed—and that I didn’t fall apart before he did.

Derek showed up around 7:45, flanked by his sister Laila—still in her cheer uniform—and her boyfriend Chad, a walking stereotype in varsity jacket.

According to Derek, Chad had survived high school on the promise of a sports scholarship. Judging by the way his hands were inching up Laila’s waist, he was only here to get to third base with her before the ghosts arrived.

“So are we really gonna see some ghosts tonight?” Chad tossed his blonde hair like a shampoo commercial, hands busy exploring Laila’s front.

“That’s the goal,” I said quickly, eyebrows raised, already preparing myself to witness underage foreplay in my foyer.

“Laila, why don’t you help Katie and me in the kitchen with the snacks, and Chad, will you help Derek set up in the attic?” I asked, praying they’d survive ten minutes apart.

The two of them pouted, clinging like toddlers at daycare drop-off, then finally separated—only after a tongue duel that made me want to call their parents and maybe a priest.

“So, Laila, what are you studying at the university? Derek tells me this is your first year.” I joined her and Katie in the kitchen and tried to keep up small talk to show I was interested, but really all I could think about was if Graham was going to show tonight, and what he would do should the ghosts actually show themselves.

“Yes, I’m a freshman. I’m studying medicine. I would love to be a pediatric surgeon one day,” she said.

“Really? Didn’t know staples and spirit fingers went together.” Katie’s judgement was as thick as the molasses on the charcuterie board.

I shot her a glance of disapproval. “Of course they can. There have been many cheerleaders who go on to do big things.”

A glimmer in Laila’s eye caught my attention.

“Thanks. It’s been hard because everyone thinks I’m just a dumb cheerleader and not smart enough to reach my dream.

When I tell them what I want to be, I get the side eyes, the judgments, the scoffs of disbelief.

No one takes the time to learn about me or the fact that I have a 4.

0 GPA and had honors in most of my AP classes in high school. ”

I was impressed. Every cheerleader I’d known back home was, as Laila said, either a dumb blonde or a total bitch. Laila was neither.

“Can I ask something personal?” I placed slices of salami around the edge of the platter. “Why Chad? Doesn’t dating the golden retriever of the football team make it harder for people to take you seriously?”

“Well, yes, it does… but it’s really simple.

We love each other.” Laila picked up a knife to cut the Colby Jack cheese.

“We’ve been together since the eighth grade.

There’s more to people than the stereotypes they present.

Besides, I cannot picture my life without him.

” She sliced the cheese into thin squares and layered them neatly next to the salami.

Laila was so young, yet she had already figured out the lies society had taught for generations. Good for her.

“So why are we making what I assume is going to be a shark board, I thought we were having a séance?” She asked, folding the wrapper around the cheese.

“Because it’s hard work,” Katie said, arranging olives like they were an offering to her pagan god of choice. “You never know what you’ll run into. And if I succeed tonight, I’ll need protein.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh yes, in case you weren’t aware, Katie here, has her heart set on getting her insides rearranged by my uncle’s ghost.”

“Wait—what?” Laila froze, cheese in hand.

Katie beamed like a proud pervert.

“Oh, I have to tell Chad.” Laila dropped the cheese and bolted.

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Now she’s gonna want to join your ghost orgy.”

“I’d be down,” Katie said, casually tossing carrots on the tray like we weren’t about to host a supernatural thirst trap.

I rubbed my temples. “You surprise me. Every. Damn. Second.”