Free Amplified by Tara Kelly

interested in more than that.”
    I nodded and made my way to the front door, almost bummed to miss the rest of the conversation. Two girls and two guys stood just inside, gazing around the shop.
    “Are you sure they give readings here?” one of the guys whispered.
    “Hi, can I help you?” I asked.
    “Do you guys do palm readings or whatever?” the brunette girl asked. She sported an orange bikini top a size too small.
    “Were you looking for palm reading specifically?”
    The four of them looked at each other and giggled. “It doesn’t matter,” the other girl said. “How much does it cost?” She wore a denim skirt that barely covered her crotch.
    “We, I mean, they can do a fifteen-minute reading for twenty dollars.”
    They huddled together, daring one another to be the first to go and eyeing me with amusement. I kept smiling because my old boss always told me never to let the customer see me frown. Any lapse meant I was letting them get to me, and many people tried to get free coffee out of that.
    “Where’s your turban?” the girl in the orange bikini asked.
    The blond girl in the denim skirt shoved her. “You’re so mean,” she whispered with a grin.
    “It’s not rocket science, kids.” Tina came up behind me. “You either want a reading or you don’t.”
    I figured they’d turn around and leave, but their eyes widened at her, like she’d turn them into toads if they didn’t comply. How such a tiny and demure-looking woman could be so intimidating was beyond me.
    Tina took them behind one of the dividers just as a middle-aged couple wandered in. He wore golf shorts and a gold watch. She had a soccer-mom haircut and several bags from boutique shops. Maybe they were looking for directions to Starbucks.
    The guy caught my eye and walked toward me. His wife stayed behind, looking constipated with her elbows pressed into her sides.
    “Hi, how are you?” His mouth quirked up in almost a shy grin.
    I responded with the autopilot niceties I’d used at the café. “Are you here for a reading?”
    “Actually, no.” He lowered his voice, putting his hand on my forearm. “Do you sell nipple clamps?”
    I backed away. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “We don’t.” Veta appeared next to me. “But there’s a great sex shop on Pacific. Ask for Kat. She’ll hook you up.”
    “Great, thanks!” He waved at us. His wife rolled her eyes and mumbled something to him on their way out.
    “Some think psychic equals kinky,” Veta said.
    “That guy could’ve been one of my dad’s friends,” I blurted, my mouth hanging open.
    Veta punched my arm. “You’ll get used to it, Goldilocks.”
    Would I?
    By noon, my stomach was aching for a sandwich, crackers, or maybe some human fingers. Really, anything crunchy sounded good. Tina wasn’t kidding about it being busy. Sometimes there was up to an hour’s wait for readings. Veta and Tina answered everything from whether a lover was cheating to Should I talk to the fairies in my backyard? And of course the ever popular, When will I die? They didn’t even attempt to answer that one.
    Luckily, learning the cash register was the easiest part of the job. Making custom massage oils and lotions? Not so simple. Too many brown bottles with weird names. Veta made me a chart I had to memorize, detailing the purpose of each essential oil.
    “Let’s say a customer comes in with a headache,” she explained. “I’d suggest lavender or chamomile. Rub a little on the temples.”
    “Aspirin usually works for me.”
    “It can also eat your stomach lining.”
    “Only if you take it, like, excessively.”
    “That’s true,” a young voice said. It came from a blond girl reading on the couch. Her book was at least a thousand pages long—like one of those mammoth fantasy titles. She’d been there for the last hour but gave me a rather snotty “no” every time I asked if she needed help.
    Veta threw her head back. “It’s so time for lunch. Lock up, Wikipedia.”
    The