Category: Jordan Castillo Price

Jordan Castillo Price

I stared at the spot where [the ghost of] Warwick’s nephew had warned me never to tell anyone what I could do, and then I slid my hand into Jacob’s and pulled him close. He slipped his other arm around me and held me. I kissed him, and tried to clear my mind of everything but him and me. I looked deep into his eyes, and tried to determine if I was ready to let him in on the one thing I’d been carrying with me since my first round of psychic testing. He started back at me like a man who’d fallen for me, hard. And that part inside, the one that usually tells me to run, or to shut up, or to play along and myself invisible and hopefully whatever I’m dealing with will just go away? That part of me said, /Yes. Tell him./”I’ve got more talent than everyone on their payroll put together,” I said. Jacob squeezed me tighter. His eyes never moved from mine. “I’m so far beyond level five it’s not even funny

Jordan Castillo Price

Jackie, can you tell me if someone’s dead or not?’“Who it be? Maybe I heard something.”“Miranda Lopez.” I pulled out the charm and balanced it on my fingertips, and then I realized the photo was probably a better likeness. I pocketed the milagro ad held up the Polaroid. “I find out for you if you get me a dime.”I sighed and put the photo away. “You can’t smoke crack. You’re dead. And even if you weren’t, I’m not gonna score for you. I’m a cop. ““You so full of shit. You ain’t no cop neither.”“Would I be wearing this fucking suit if I wasn’t a cop?”“I don’t know. I always thought you sold cars or something.”I tucked my chin toward my chest and stomped toward my gate. Jackie couldn’t help me. And how dare she call me a used car salesman? I wasn’t always a dork in a blazer. Once upon a time I was actually cool. Until the Cook County Mental Health Centre, anyway. After that, I guess I kinda stopped caring.