YOURE THE ONE THAT I HAUNT MM

by GAREY TERRI

• ISBN13: 9780061582035
• ISBN10: 0061582034
• Format: Paperback
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

The devil went down to Georgia . . .Nicki Styx has always known that the devil's in the details-but does he have to move in next door, too? Worse, he won't take no for an answer. Nicki would never leave her beloved boyfriend, ER doc Joe Bascombe, but hell hath no fury like a devil scorned. He's determined to make Nicki's life a living hell-even if it means exposing Nicki as an unwilling ghoulfriend to the dead.Now, just when she was getting used to being able to see and hear-and help-spirits, Nicki's got a whole new set of problems. With ghosts descending from all sides, the bereaved knocking down her door, and Joe trying to take things to the next level, Nicki may finally be in over her head. It would be so easy to dance with the devil . . . but if Nicki crosses over to the dark side, she may never leave.

Excerpts

You're the One That I Haunt

Chapter One

"Always remember that you're unique . . . just like everyone else."

The TV behind the counter was blaring when I walked in the door of Handbags and Gladrags. My partner, Evan, was glued to the set, watching his favorite midmorning talk show.

"Self-hypnosis can provide important past-life information that can help you understand your present life and transform yourself into the you that you were meant to be."

"Oh, please." I slid the box of vintage jeans I was carrying onto the counter, glad to be rid of its weight. "You're not buying into this crap, are you?"

"Shh." Evan waved me impatiently away, not even bothering with our usual "good morning" hugs and air kisses. "She's just getting to the good part."

"My new book, Reincarnate Your Way to a New You, is available now from Atlantis Books, and can be yours for the low, low price of nineteen ninety-five."

"Nineteen ninety-five for a book on reincarnation? Not in this lifetime." I giggled to myself at the unintended pun.

Evan's sense of humor seemed to be missing this morning, though his sense of fashion was, as usual, in perfect place. He was wearing gray pin-striped pants with a silky black button-down shirt, patterned with green Chinese dragons. "Shh," he said again, "I wanna hear this."

I shrugged and went into the back room to lock up my purse and pour myself a cup of coffee. The TV was too loud to block out, and I couldn't help but be glad the store was currently- empty of customers. Business would pick up after lunch.

"Reincarnate Your Way to a New You will give you the tools you need to tap into the three major dimensions of your psyche: your past lives, your preexistence, and the lives you've lived between lifetimes. Visualization is the key."

"It sounds like English, but I can't understand a word she's saying," I called out, unwilling to pass up an opportunity to tease my best bud. "What do you think will happen if I visualize her with duct tape over her mouth?"

The TV went dead, leaving blessed silence in its wake.

"It worked," I shouted triumphantly. "Visualization IS the key!"

"Ha, ha," said Evan from the doorway. "You're awfully close-minded for somebody who sees dead people."

"Any connection between that woman's reality and mine is purely coincidental. You know perfectly well I'd prefer not to see dead people, thank you very much, and I don't scam poor suckers out of their hard-earned money." The coffeemaker was empty, pot missing. "Unless they want quality vintage, which they will have to pay for. Now where's the coffeepot?"

"In the trash, where it belongs." Evan leaned against the door jamb, crossing one sandaled Prada casually over the other. "Somebody forgot to turn off the burner yesterday."

Ugh. I got a quick mental flash of the muddy black mess we'd found at closing time yesterday⎯that "somebody" would be me.

"How about a couple of large Mocha Lattes from Moonbeans?" I gave Evan a hopeful smile. "You fly, I'll buy."

"Oh sure"—Evan sniffed—"ask the fairy to fly. How very politically incorrect of you."

"Somebody has their panties in a twist this morning." I grinned, taking the sting from my words. "Anything wrong?"

Evan sighed, giving me a mournful look. "I think Butch is losing interest."

"Impossible. The guy's nuts about you!"

"He's been spending a lot of time on the computer late at night, and this morning I found out he'd changed his e-mail password."

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "You've been reading your boyfriend's e-mails?"

Evan shrugged. "Of course. Doesn't everybody?"

Remembering how I'd sneaked a peek at my boyfriend Joe's computer recently, I had no room to talk. But that didn't stop me. "No. You must learn to respect your partner's privacy."

Evan looked at me, and I looked at him, then we both burst out laughing.

"Okay. Okay. But just because Butch changed his e-mail password doesn't mean he's losing interest. You're overreacting."

"Imagine that," Evan murmured sarcastically.

"And you think reincarnating yourself into a new you is the way to get his attention?"

Evan sighed again. "I don't know. Butch is interested in all this ‘New Age' stuff. Maybe if I knew something about it, we'd have more in common."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell you what, pretty boy. You park yourself in the catbird seat and keep an eye on the store while I go get us those Mocha Lattes. You can tell me all your troubles when I get back."

Evan didn't argue, which told me more than words could've. He didn't even fuss at me when I stopped to adjust the ruffles on Grace Kelly's ivory chiffon cocktail dress, a sure sign he was deep into depression. All of the mannequins in Handbags and Gladrags were made to look like film stars, and Grace was one of Evan's particular favorites.

I left him flipping listlessly through a muscle magazine while I went out the front door and into the rarefied air of Little Five Points, Georgia.

If Butch was into New Age stuff, he needed to hang out in this neighborhood more often. Wind chimes in front of Crystal Blue Persuasion tinkled in the morning breeze, the perfect counterpoint to the weird electronic music they piped into the street every day to attract shoppers. The rich smell of coffee from Moonbeans vied with the odor of sandalwood incense, and if you breathed deep enough, you could smell the fresh fruits and vegetables stacked in bins outside the organic market, Garden of Eatin'.

I dodged a dreadlocked kid on a skateboard, and smiled at an elderly black man who shuffled by, nodding pleasantly, folded newspaper under one arm. The familiar sweet/sour scent of stale beer rose from the alley as I passed the Vortex, skirting the dirty garbage bins ready for pickup.

God, I love this place.

"Two large Mocha Lattes, Amy," I told the girl behind the counter. "Is that a new nose ring?"

You're the One That I Haunt. Copyright © by Terri Garey. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from You're the One That I Haunt by Terri Garey
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