"And how does that make you feel?" she asked.
"Maybe you should ask Jake that question."
|My muse thinks she's a psychiatrist!|
"Because he's the one you killed." I found her wry grin more than a little disconcerting. "You're all heart, aren't you?"
"Jake wasn't real, Jeff. You really need to get a better handle on differentiating these things."
"I'm getting better." Of course. She always answers my claims of progress with silence. The woman really does think she's part psychiatrist. "I didn't resurrect Brian, did I?"
"Brian never even spoke a line of dialog, Jeff."
"The point, Jeff, is it wasn't much of a sacrifice to keep him dead."
I kept my eyes level and focused on hers. "You know, I do have a real psychiatrist."
"And what did she say about Brian?"
"He," I corrected. "Less than he had to say about you."
"I can imagine. Did you tell him I'm attractive?"
"Doesn't mean I'm not attractive."
"It means I know better than notice." That impish smile of hers always beckons trouble.
|Can you trust a muse for hire?|
I rose from the couch and loosed a resigned sigh as I grabbed the door knob. "Of course."
"Oh, tell your friends I'm running a special. You get a free consultation for each new client you bring me."
My breath caught the moment I realized I'd called her a sadist aloud. What on Earth did I just do?
"Maybe you are making progress," she said with her widest grin yet today. Leaning forward, she dropped a few business cards into my hand. "Here, make sure you give them these."