“But you don’t want to meet anyone now, right? Since you have Alex.” Mac looked nervous.

“They don’t just tell you things about love,” Ursa shot back. She started listing the other topics on her fingers: “Careers, dead relatives, unfinished business—and this one time, my aunt went to a psychic to tell her why her cat, Sequins, always bolted from the downstairs bathroom like its tail was on fire.”

“And?” Rainy couldn’t help herself; she wasn’t a believer, but she wanted to know about the cat.

“She said that my dead grandfather was haunting Sequins. And honestly, my grandfather hated cats, so it came as no surprise to any of us.” Ursa shrugged. “My family is weird. We got rid of the cat, but not the ghost.”

They laughed so hard they held their bellies, holding on to each other for balance as they maneuvered the sidewalk in their high heels. A slow rumble of thunder came from the sky and Braithe yelped, grabbing Tara’s arm and staring at the sky suspiciously. It was all humorous and fun beneath the veil of alcohol.

Maybe this isn’t so bad, Rainy thought. She walked alongside Ursa, who was recounting her time with Miami Oscar. Tara and Braithe were up ahead, leading the way, and Mac was somewhere in the middle, calling out directions as she read them off her phone.

They found a place online: readings for forty dollars apiece, group discounts available. There was no such thing as psychic ability, Rainy assured herself. This was like a show: they were going somewhere to be entertained, like any other place in Vegas. They had to navigate their way across puddles, making a game of leaping dramatically, arms flying. Rainy felt silly. She hadn’t even done these things when she was a kid. As they walked, Braithe told them she’d tried to get an appointment with a famous psychic her mother had seen here in Vegas, but there were no openings.

“Stephen always makes fun of me for wanting to go, but I swear to God that guy knows what he’s talking about.”

“She’s obsessed,” Tara announced to the rest of them. She was tiptoeing on a narrow strip of pavement to avoid a puddle. Braithe didn’t seem bothered by Tara’s comment; she looked happy, almost beaming.

“Ohhh,” Ursa said. “Does he have dark hair and a scar on his cheek? I’ve seen him on TV.”