Brain Storm, Cat Gilbert [read books for money TXT] 📗

“YOU’RE NOT CONCENTRATING, Taylor. You’re doing it wrong. Still.”

I looked at the feather sitting on the kitchen table and hated it with every ounce of my being. The past four mornings at six a.m., Brown had set it down on the table and then picked it up two hours later from exactly the same place, only to put it back down and start all over again immediately after breakfast. This morning looked to be no different. My goal was simple. All I had to do was to push it off the table, without using my hands. So far, I hadn’t even been able to make it move. The deadline was fast approaching, and my frustration was mounting with each passing second.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re teaching it wrong?” I shot back, shoving myself back from the table to glare at him.

“No,” he answered back, completely unruffled. “The action is an extension of the thought and it rides on the emotion. You want it. You reach for it. You take it. Not by force, but by simply doing it.” He stood and picked up the feather, giving me a raised eyebrow look that clearly said I was the problem, and left the room, passing Trinity and Mama D on their way in to make breakfast.

I blew out a long breath of frustration, closed my eyes and counted to ten under my breath.

“What’s wrong?” Trinity asked, slapping down a placemat in front of me.

“I hate that feather,” I answered her, “and I’m not real fond of Brown.”

“Well, there’s a surprise.” She fairly dripped with sarcasm. “So I take it there’s no progress, huh?”

I shook my head and took another deep breath. The smell of coffee in the air had my head swimming. I looked over to see Mama D pulling eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, the frying pans already on the stove, ready and waiting.

Brown had been preaching at me from six in the morning until midnight for the past four days, and all I had to show for it was an even more intense dislike of the man. It looked like I was in for another day of the same and I wasn’t looking forward to it all. In fact, I had to keep from shuddering when he followed Jonas and Mac back into the kitchen.

“So what have we learned today, Dorothy?” Mac quipped as he pulled out a chair. I stared at him. For a guy who picked up on my emotions, he had to know he was playing with fire. He just chuckled and sat down.

“From the look she’s giving you, my guess is she still hasn’t moved that feather.” Jonas pulled back his own chair. “I wish you would just hurry up and figure it out. Maybe we could eat sooner. I’m starving.”

“Talk to Brown. He’s the one that insists we do this before breakfast. Or coffee.” I glanced over at Brown, who shrugged and plopped down next to Jonas, just as Mama D sat a steaming mug in front of me.

“You’re an addict.” Brown’s voice was dry and accusing.

“And you’re a pain in the keister!” I shot back, causing Trinity to gasp and Mama D to burst out laughing.

Brown lifted a glass of orange juice in a mocking salute, as I glared at him over the rim of my coffee cup.

We sat quietly after that little exchange, listening to the sound of bacon sizzling. All I could think about was all the time I had wasted with Brown when I could have been focusing on a plan to get to Hughes. I had given Brown a week. Four days were already gone, and we had accomplished nothing. To top the whole thing off, I didn’t think I could stand one more hour with Brown, much less three more days. Not at this rate. I wasn’t sure whether it was that I still didn’t trust him, that I just didn’t like him, or the sneaking suspicion that he was right, and I was the whole problem, but I was pretty certain I’d had about as much of him as I could take.

By the time Mama D and Trinity sat hot plates loaded with eggs and bacon down in front of us, I’d finished my coffee and was in a better state of mind. Jonas went over and got the coffee pot and refilled my cup before setting it down on the table.

“So,” Mac broke the silence, “if you don’t mind me asking, what seems to be the problem?”

“She’s not listening. That’s the problem. She thinks she knows it all.” Brown dove right in before I even had a chance to open my mouth. My better state of mind was gone in an instant. “I knew she was ignorant, but I didn’t think she was stupid.”

I didn’t mind being ignorant. That much was true. I didn’t have the knowledge I needed, and that’s what he was there for, so I could let that one pass. It was the stupid part that pushed me over the edge. So far as I was concerned, the stupidest thing I’d done was waste four whole days trying to move a feather. I gave his plate a mental shove and watched in surprise as it slid off the table into his lap.

“Good girl.” Brown ignored the plateful of food in his lap. Instead, he whipped his hand up and almost magically the feather appeared on the table. “Now the feather.”

I gave it a push and watched as it sat there where his plate had been moments before.

“Taylor,” Brown called quietly, drawing my attention. “Did you feel the difference?”

Yeah, I felt the difference. I enjoyed dumping the plate into his lap. Couldn’t wait to do it. Could feel my hands on the plate. Could feel the plate start to slide, feel the slick edge of the plate move past my fingers as it disappeared over the edge of the table. I couldn’t care less about the feather, but coating him with steaming eggs and greasy bacon? That was great.

I was about to tell him that very thing, when it hit me, freezing me in my tracks. That’s not what he meant. The difference wasn’t in how I felt. It was in how I directed what I felt. I had wanted to move that feather with every ounce of my being, just so we would move on and I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. I wanted it as much if not more than I wanted to dump that plate of eggs into Brown’s lap. The difference was I tried to force the feather. With the plate, I just reached out and did it.

I felt my muscles clench up, my breath coming rapidly. Could it really be that simple? I looked over at the feather and gave it a flick, watching in amazement as it floated up in the air, a smile of satisfaction spreading across my face as it slowed wafted down to settle back on the table and cheers erupted from my supporters.

“By Jove, I think she’s got it. Finally. ” Brown’s mocking whisper wiped the smiles off everyone’s faces, including my own. He stood up, tossing the plate back onto the table and scattering bits of scrambled eggs around in the process. “I would appreciate it, however, if you would desist from throwing things, although, it does seem to be your forte.”

He gave his pants a shake, trying to dislodge a few particularly clingy pieces of egg and looked down in disgust at the dark spots left behind by the grease and butter. He threw