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Even though he still didn't believe, Buck had finally given in and told Wilma to contact a psychic to see if, indeed, the place might be haunted.
Nikki Haley, aged 35, is renowned as one of the most gifted psychics in Houston. Her striking beauty, with piercing blue eyes that seem to hold a universe of secrets and long, flowing chestnut hair, has captivated many who have sought her guidance. Born and raised in the heart of Texas, Nikki's psychic abilities manifested at a young age, often leaving her feeling like an outsider in a world where such phenomena were met with skepticism. Yet, it was precisely this isolation that allowed her gifts to flourish. As a teenager, she began experiencing vivid dreams and intuitive flashes, which she initially struggled to comprehend. However, with time and guidance from her grandmother—a wise woman who recognized Nikki's special connection to the spiritual realm—she learned to harness her abilities and embrace her destiny as a psychic medium. Despite her fame, Nikki prefers a quiet life away from the bustling city, residing in a quaint suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of Houston, not far from the Cassidys' resort, where she occasionally offers her services to those in need of guidance and clarity.
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It was almost noon. Wilma answered the phone on the third ring, sitting down on the couch as she picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she said cheerfully.
"Wilma!" The caller almost screamed through the line. "This is Amelia and I've got to tell you something very important!"
Oh, my God, Wilma's brain kicked in. She forgot and left Amelia in the ballroom last night!
Wilma could tell by the urgency in Amelia's voice that something dreadful had happened. Her smile quickly turned into a frown as Amelia gave her a blow-by-blow description of what had happened inside the club the night before. Wilma allowed her to tell her entire story before she quickly gave any reply.
"What are you going to do about it?" Amelia wanted to know. "I'm not making this up!"
"Don't worry," Wilma assured her. "First of all, I want you to know that I believe you. I've heard similar stories from a bunch of different people in the last couple of days. I was just getting ready to call some psychics to see if any of them could help me. Surely, one of them will have a solution."
"They'd better, or I'll never set foot in that place again!"
"Don't worry about it," Wilma tried to calm her down. "Why don't you try and get some rest and I'll get busy trying to find someone to take care of this."
"Okay," Amelia said with a sigh. "Call me as soon as you know anything."
"I will," Wilma affirmed. "I promise I'll get everything taken care of."
Wilma bid Amelia goodbye and hung up the phone. She reached over and pulled the phone book from the brass rack next to the sofa. She plopped the book on her lap and thumbed through the yellow pages until she found the listing for clairvoyants.
"God, please let someone believe me," she whispered as she took a deep breath, and then let it out.
Wilma picked up the receiver and dialed the phone number of one of the psychics. She got a busy signal. She pushed the disconnect button and tried another number. This time, she got through.
Although hesitant, Wilma explained the entire situation to the woman and was elated when the lady on the other end of the line agreed to help her. When Wilma realized whom she had contacted, she felt confident that, if anyone could help her, it was Nikki Haley.
The psychic told Wilma to have Carlos meet her at the nightclub later that afternoon. She said she wanted to walk through the building and see if she could get any vibrations from any spirits inside the place.
Wilma asked the woman if she could meet her there and was relieved when the psychic told her to stay put until she had toured the building.
After giving the woman explicit directions on how to find the resort, Wilma hung up the phone and leaned back against the cushions of the couch.
"Thank God!" she whispered joyously.
Nikki Haley had assured Wilma that she could help her in one way or another, and the promise made her feel confident that this whole ordeal might be over soon. All she could do now was wait until the psychic called her back.
Buck came walking into the living room wearing a navy blue jogging suit. He walked over and sat down next to Wilma.
"What's up?" he asked as he reached forward and grabbed the remote control off the glass coffee table in front of him.
"I found a psychic," she replied, just as Buck aimed the remote at the black Magnavox console TV and clicked it on.
"You did, huh?" He almost laughed as he pressed the channel button and flipped through the stations until he found a country music program.
"I sure did, and she's going to the resort this afternoon to check it out."
"All right, what's it going to cost us?"
"I don't know," she answered with a puzzled look. "She didn't say anything about charging me. I wonder how much she'll want? She's going to call back later on and tell me what she found out. I guess she'll tell me then."
"Well, before she goes doing some mumbo-jumbo, voodoo spell, or whatever those people do, you'd better find out how much she charges," he insisted. "I'd hate to get a bill for a thousand dollars for her running off some ghost that probably ain't there to start with!"
She gave him a fast, angry glance, but she kept her mouth shut. "I just want something done!" She picked up the phone again.
"Now who are you calling?!" Buck asked as she pressed the buttons on the phone.
"Carlos. I have to tell him to leave the ballroom door unlocked so Nikki Haley can get in there. She wants to talk to him, too!"
Wilma waited patiently until Carlos answered on the 10th ring. She told him about the psychic and was relieved when Carlos seemed to be his old self. After a brief conversation, she hung up and looked over at her husband, who was watching a country video.
"Carlos said he'll watch for her. He seems like he's in a good mood about something."
"Naturally! He's got all of you folks buying into his supernatural bullshit!"
Wilma shook her head, got up, and headed into the kitchen to cook lunch. Buck grinned and rolled his eyes at his wife as she left the room. Spooks! It was all he could do to keep from bursting out in laughter.
Buck had completed his latest album PHOENIX RISING, and the lead song, "Born from the Flames" had reached the Gospel music charts and was doing well. He was preparing to leave for Nashville again, as he was looking for some new songs to record. He was working on a possible recording contract with a major country music label and he needed to find the right upbeat song that they were looking for. He didn't have time to worry about the "ghosts" that were scaring Wilma and the other people, and he only hoped that this psychic, whoever she was, wouldn't come back and announce that the resort was indeed haunted.182Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlMTxSb5SB9
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Wilma picked up the phone on the first ring. She was sitting on the couch next to Buck watching the 7:00 world news. It was the call she had been waiting for all afternoon. Nikki Haley identified herself and gave her the dreadful news. After about a ten-minute conversation, she thanked the woman and hung up the phone. She looked over at Buck, her features carrying a startling load of information. She bit her bottom lip and then took a deep sigh as she sat there staring silently at her husband.
"Well?" Buck asked, after hearing the one-sided conversation. "What'd she say?"
Wilma looked at Buck for a brief moment without answering him. He had a smug expression. He knew by Wilma's look that he didn't want to hear what the psychic had to say, but he figured he might as well get it over with.
"Goddamn it, Wilma! Spill it!"
"Oh no, you won't like it!" She spoke slowly, feeling her way.
"It's damn well too late for that! Tell me what you heard, and tell me right now!" His voice brimmed with outrage.
"Okay," Wilma began, her eyes widening with anticipation. "The psychic told me she met Carlos, and he took her through the whole building. But it gets crazier. When she went down into the tunnels beneath the resort, she encountered some seriously bizarre stuff. First, this slimy creature attacked her in one of the tunnels by the sealed pit, but she managed to ward it off with her cross. And then, as she went deeper, she started feeling sick and dizzy, like death was all around her. But the worst part? She had a vision of a skeleton, a young woman, probably in her early twenties, lying deep in one of the lesser-used tunnels."
"What the hell else did she say?" Buck demanded angrily, his voice seething with frustration. "Ghosts weren't enough, now we've got damn skeletons in the mix?"
Wilma shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes, then continued. "She said the ghost of a student who was murdered there, some kid named Buck O'Malley, went to live in your body. This kid was pushing drugs on campus, see, and he got taken out by his rival, some punk named Razor. Buck's girlfriend got him back for it, though, pumping him full of enough heroin to kill him. She then took her own life by overdosing on heroin herself. The girl's name was Sunflower."
"I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and listen to this bullshit!" Buck exclaimed, his voice trembling with anger as he crumpled newspaper in both hands. "She's saying I'm possessed? That's a load of horseshit!".
"No, it's not!" Wilma snapped. "She knew about Sunflower, didn't she?"
"Carlos must have fed her Sunflower's name, goddamn it!" Buck bellowed, his rage boiling over as he pointed an accusatory finger. "You two are in cahoots against me, aren't you? This is absolute bullshit!"
"Listen, Buck, Carlos didn't say a damn thing to Nikki about Sunflower or anything else," Wilma retorted, her voice firm and defensive. "The psychic told me she had a long talk with him, but she specifically instructed him not to give her any of the ghosts' names. She wanted to tune into them herself. And that's not all—she's warned that the ghosts are using Carlos's body at will, and if provoked, they can be very dangerous."
"If you say one more goddamn word, Wilma, I swear I'll divorce you," Buck threatened, his posture tense and his expression fierce, suggesting he wasn't bluffing.
"If you don't keep your promise and call Mikal, I'll file for divorce," Wilma retorted, her tone firm as she reminded Buck of his broken commitment.
"I can't do it now, damn it!" Buck almost shouted, frustration evident in his voice. "Mikal would think I'm crazy. What the hell would I tell him? That my resort is haunted and my handyman is possessed? He'd sic the men with butterfly nets after me!"
"That's between you and your friend," Wilma retorted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You made me a promise, Buck, and you better not go back on it. Give me Mikal's phone number. If you won't call him up, then I will."
"Fine, just leave it alone," Buck grumbled, his tone tinged with irritation. "I'll call him myself in the morning. I'll keep my damn promise, but let me tell you, he's gonna laugh his head off when he hears it." He suggested they hit the hay, expressing his fatigue and the need for a clear head when trying to explain everything to Mikal the next day. "I need to get some rest so I can convince him that you and your friends believe this bullshit," he added.
Wilma nodded her head and smiled at Buck. She turned off the lamp and television and then followed her husband into the bedroom to try to get some sleep. She was elated that Buck was going to help her, even if he didn't believe any of the stories he'd heard from her and the other people.
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