A Sixer of Tequila

  A Sixer of Tequila

  An Althea Rose Novel

  Tricia O'Malley

  Lovewrite Publishing

  A Sixer of Tequila

  Copyright © 2019 by Tricia O'Malley

  All Rights Reserved

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  Cover Design:

  Alchemy Book Covers

  Editor:

  Elayne Morgan

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without express permission of the author. This includes reprints, excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any future means of reproducing text.

  * * *

  If you would like to do any of the above, please seek permission first by contacting the author at: info@triciaomalley.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  The Isle of Destiny Series

  The Mystic Cove Series

  The Siren Island Series

  The Althea Rose Series

  The Stolen Dog

  Good Girl

  Chapter 1

  Author's Note

  Stand tall, darling…

  Chapter One

  “The flamingo’s been stolen.”

  I leaned back on my stool and unabashedly eavesdropped on the women gossiping next to me under the thatched roof of Lucky’s Tiki Bar, run by my best friend Beau. He winked at me from where he was building a mai-tai in one of the tiki mugs from his new custom line of mugs – this one in a shark shape – and I knew he was listening in as well.

  “Can you believe it? Who would steal a six-foot-tall flamingo?” Woman number one, in a floral dress and tasteful flats, shook her head sadly as if to say What is the world coming to?

  I, too, wondered what this world was coming to, but more because I was concerned over the taste of someone who would actually order a six-foot-tall flamingo. Granted, I shouldn’t be passing judgment on other people’s design tastes, as mine ran to the decidedly more eclectic side of things.

  “They say it was going to be at the entrance for the new mini-golf course. They were going to unveil it and surprise the town this week.” Woman number two, dark circles under her eyes and hair in an unkempt ponytail, shrugged. “Which is too bad. I’ve been telling the kids I had a surprise for them. At the very least, it would have been something to wear off some of their incessant energy.”

  That explained the dark circles and messy hair, I thought, and sipped delicately on my mojito as I considered the news. Tuning them out as they began to discuss their kids – a topic that could often send me straight to sleep – I wondered what had happened to the flamingo.

  “Think it’s just teens having a prank?” Beau came and leaned forward on the bar, his golden good looks and air of confidence making both men and women alike fall for him on the regular. But he only played for one team – and too bad it wasn’t mine, I thought, once again admiring his handsome face and easy surfer style.

  “Doesn’t feel that way to me,” I said. “But I also didn’t know we were getting a mini golf course, so there’s that.”

  “Didn’t you? It’s been the talk of the town for weeks now,” Beau said with a smile. “Everyone’s complaining about the name.”

  “No! I hadn’t heard,” I admitted, leaning closer. “Is it bad?”

  “Flocking Flamazing Mini-Golf,” Beau said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he did his best not to laugh.

  “Shut up. That’s amazing,” I breathed, immediately wondering what the Whittiers, Tequila Key’s upper-crust family, would have to say about that. Frankly, I was surprised Theodore Whittier hadn’t stopped the development in its tracks already. He was on the board of everything in town, as he liked to tell anyone who cared to listen.

  I never did.

  “Don’t you mean fla-mazing?” Beau asked. I laughed out loud this time while Beau went off to serve some tourists who had just arrived at the end of the bar.

  Tequila Key was just a bump on the road on the way to the party town of Key West. I liked the sleepiness of the town, where everyone knew everyone and something as small as a new mini-golf course was enough to send the town into full gossip mode. Years ago, some intrepid mayor had decided to put a sign on the highway proclaiming, “Tequila Makes it Better,” thus ensuring that no tourists would ever actually visit Tequila Key. Instead they just stopped to take a ridiculous selfie by the sign before continuing on their way. I was more than happy with this arrangement, though I’d heard murmurs lately about a new town campaign seeking to encourage more tourism. Personally, after the last few months I’d had, more tourists were the last thing I was looking for. My name had been splashed across the tabloids more than once, and I was finally settling back into a normal routine with nobody hounding me for psychic information.

  Aside from my clients, that is.

  I’m Althea Rose, co-owner of the Luna Rose Potions & Tarot Shop. I was recently outed to the world as a psychic by several gossip magazines and a reality show producer – whom I’d subsequently helped put in jail – and my client list has exploded ever since. Granted, I shouldn’t say I’d been ‘outed’ – I’d never hidden the fact of who or what I was – but I certainly didn’t enjoy looking at my life through the lens of a tabloid magazine. Not to mention that the editors liked to choose the most unflattering photos of me they could find. It was enough to put anyone off wearing a swimsuit in public ever again.

  “Did you hear about the flamingo?” Luna, my other best friend and colleague, slid onto a stool next to me, looking imminently cool and perfectly put-together in her white linen maxi-dress, not a wrinkle in sight. I mean, how was that even fair? Not only was she coolly gorgeous with flowing blond hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that could drop men to their knees, but even her linen dresses didn’t crease. I suspected, as I had on more than one occasion, that she used a glamour spell to keep her whites white and her clothes unwrinkled.

  There were some extra benefits to being a white witch, I supposed.

  “Apparently that’s the gossip of the hour,” I said. I nodded to the two women who were walking out the door, presumably to attend to their aforementioned children, and turned to look back at Luna. “How did I not even know there’s going to be a mini-golf course going in?”

  “You’ve been pretty tied up. Between the deluge in clients and your new love life, I’m surprised you’ve even had time to come up for air,” Luna said, nodding to Beau when he held up a bottle of pinot grigio.

  “It’s not a love life,” I protested, squirming in my seat.

  “Fine, sex life. Whatever you want to call it.” Luna blew out an exasperated breath – well, as close to exasperated as she gets with me – and gratefully accepted the glass of wine Beau handed her.

  “Oh, are we talking about sex? Whose sex life?” Beau said, leaning in, his eyes dancing in curiosity.

  “A
lthea’s.” Luna gestured to me with her wine glass. “I’m just pointing out that she’s doing the thing she always does when she first starts dating someone and disappears off the radar for a while. Which is how she didn’t know about the mini-golf course, let alone the stolen flamingo.”

  “Well, in all fairness, the flamingo bit is a new twist,” Beau said, ever my champion. “But yeah, she’s totally doing her hermit thing. We’re just her friends when she’s not having sex.”

  So much for being my champion.

  “That’s not true!” I tugged a lock of my hair, dyed blue this month, and glared at them. “You all know how nutso my life was after the tabloids. I could barely go outside after we were involved with that reality show producer. And, well, yes, I like sex. So sue me. It’s good stress relief.”

  “You’d think she’d be less bitchy with all the sex she’s getting,” Luna pointed out.

  “Right? Like, where is the relaxed Althea we all know and love?”

  “I’m right here,” I pouted as I took another sip of my mojito.

  “See? That’s the face you’d think she wouldn’t be making after all the sex she’s having.”

  “I’m not cranky,” I insisted. “I just don’t like you insinuating that I drop my friends as soon as I’m dating someone.”

  “You don’t drop us, you just take a small holiday,” Luna amended, carefully brushing away a small speck of dust on the bar that had dared to get close to her dress.

  “Doesn’t everyone, though? I seem to remember you disappearing for a significant amount of time once you and Mathias hooked up.” Luna had the decency to look away and hum. “And you, Beau – I know the minute you’re hooking up because you start buying new clothes.”

  “Date outfits,” Beau agreed.

  “Well? I’m here, aren’t I? When I could be home shagging a sexy dive instructor. So can we all appreciate that?”

  “Appreciated.” Luna ran her hand gently down my arm. “Now, who would steal a six-foot flamingo?”

  “And why do I feel like you’re about to get involved in it?” Beau said, glaring at me.

  “Me?” I squeaked, pointing a finger at my chest. “I don’t care about this stupid flamingo.”

  “But you love a mystery.” Luna tucked a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a great feeling about this, I’ll be honest.”

  “It’s just a flamingo. What harm could come from finding out who took a silly plastic statue? As Beau said, it’s probably just teens playing a prank.”

  “I don’t like flamingos,” Luna said.

  I gaped at her. “How can you not like flamingos? They’re like…” I stopped, considering my words.

  “The Beaus of the bird world? Though I think I’d prefer parrots, but parrots squawk way more than I do.”

  Both Luna and I suddenly found other things to look at in the restaurant.

  “Ohhhh… aren’t we both being bitchy today? I see how it is. Just for that, I’m going to make you a flamazing flamingle martini and you’re going to love every drop of it.”

  “Flamingle?” Luna wondered out loud to Beau’s retreating back.

  “Trust me, you’ll flocking love it.”

  Chapter Two

  I wasn’t out looking for trouble, I told myself as I wandered my way home from Lucky’s. I took the long way on my beach cruiser, pulling to a stop in front of a shotgun style house. The worn porch wrapping its front was set several steps higher than the street. I peered into the dark corner, and jumped when someone tapped my arm.

  “You’re looking a little stalkerish.” Miss Elva – our resident voodoo priestess, among many other magickal gifts – stood resplendent before me in a screaming orange caftan and a bedazzled blue hair wrap.

  “Jeeeeezus,” I proclaimed, holding my hand to my heart. “You’ll give a girl a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that.”

  “No wonder you always getting in trouble, child, if you can’t even hear me calling your name from halfway down the block.”

  “Were you really? Huh, maybe I am really distracted today. Or tired. Either way, yes, I was looking for you. Where are you coming from?”

  “Oh, now she wants to know my business. See? She is stalking me.” Miss Elva shook her head sadly.

  “She was out meeting a man,” said Rafe, Miss Elva’s pirate ghost. He trembled in rage over her shoulder. Sniffing, he looked down his nose at me. “Not that you’d know what that was like, what with the outfits you wear and all.”

  “What’s wrong with my outfits?” I looked down at my flowy maxi-dress, which I considered to be my uniform in the unrelenting heat of Tequila Key.

  “Don’t mind him, honey. He’s just in a tizzy because Miss Elva was out flirting with a real man.” Rosita, a new addition to Miss Elva’s ghostly pack, materialized next to her shoulder, studying her nails as Rafe shot her a glare.

  “Like you can call that puffed-up orange glazed doughnut of a thing a man,” Rafe scoffed, then shut his mouth at Miss Elva’s look.

  “Now, you know how I feel about fat-shaming, Rafe. The man may have a little extra to love on him, but that doesn’t mean he’s a doughnut,” Miss Elva said.

  “I wasn’t fat-shaming. You people seem to love your doughnuts,” Rafe argued back, trailing behind Miss Elva as she climbed her porch. She settled into her corner rocking chair and waved for me to join her. I eyed Miss Elva’s straight wood-backed visitor’s chair – with no cushion, mind you – and decided to stand instead. Leaning against the railing, I nodded to Rosita.

  “How’s things, Rosita? You settling into this new world?”

  “I’m good, Althea. At least someone has the manners to ask about me once in a while.”

  I refrained from pointing out that since Luna, Miss Elva, and I were the only ones who could see her, it wasn’t likely that anyone else would step up and ask how she was doing.

  “Glad to hear it. I know it was an adjustment when you joined us.” ‘Adjustment’ might be a slight understatement since, much like Rafe, she’d popped through the veil during a spell. To Rafe’s horror and my never-ending delight, Rosita had been a brothel owner during Rafe’s time on earth and knew all about his exploits. Or lack thereof, I should say. As pirates and plundering went, it seemed the ladies of the night at Rosita’s establishment were often left unplundered when it came to Rafe.

  “I love it here. Women own businesses without being harassed like I was, and there’s so much technology we never had. I have to say, this has been not only an education, but a load of fun. I definitely plan to stay around.”

  Rafe groaned and shook his head.

  “Now you just let her be, Rafe. She deserves a second chance at experiencing this world, just like you have.”

  “I know, my lovemountain. But can’t she go experience it over there? Like way over there. Why does she have to be with us all the time?”

  “I can go home with Althea if that’s what you want.” Rosita crossed her arms and glared at Rafe.

  “I’d like nothing more,” Rafe said, beaming.

  “Wait a minute…” I protested.

  “Fine, then I’ll go hang out with her for a while. But you remember when you’re bored and crying over Miss Elva finding herself a real man that you’ll have nobody to talk to. Don’t come crying my way that there’s another woman you can’t satisfy,” Rosita sniffed.

  Dang, these ghosts were cold-hearted, I thought, and then gave myself a little mental slap. Of course they were cold-hearted. They no longer had hearts.

  “Children,” Miss Elva said, making a swooshing motion with her hand and then setting her rocker to rocking. “Enough with the bickering. Let’s see what Althea was doing snooping around the porch.”

  There was a bit of sting to her words. We’d gone through a rough patch as of late and were still a little prickly with each other. But, as with most of the friends in my life, Miss Elva wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I. We’d been through too much together to give up on each other
so easily.

  “I wasn’t snooping. I was stopping by to see someone who, in the past, was usually happy when I popped by for a visit.”

  Both Rosita and Rafe clamped their mouths shut and looked to Miss Elva to see what she would do.

  “I’m sorry, child. That I am. I have a headache today.” Miss Elva pinched her nose and rocked in her chair. “This heat is making me crankier than usual. Or there’s something stirring in the air. I haven’t bothered to look ahead yet. I’m still recovering from all the past drama.”

  “How are sales on your trucker hats?” Miss Elva had exploded into the national spotlight when the tabloids had come through. While the tabloids had been mean to me, they loved her, and she’d been an instant sensation. Capitalizing on the fame, she’d made up some merchandise to sell. You couldn’t call the woman stupid, that’s for sure. She’d made a fortune.

  “Incredible. We’ve expanded to my own designer caftan line now. Who knew I’d be the head of a fashion house?”

  “I’m not surprised. You always look fantastic.” I wasn’t lying, either. Miss Elva could pull off glitter, sequins, and feathers better than any burlesque dancer on stage. She never looked silly either; it just fit her style so well.

  “Don’t I know it. But thank you. I’ve been able to get my ideas into production, and I even have a website now. Want to see it?”