GREETING Akira’s face was a Monday morning hangover, which she expected, what with Erin drinking like a sailor and her putting up with it. That woman was made of steel, not one complaint about her newly-finished tattoo on the thigh no less, where leather seats at the bar tend to ultimately cause sweating. It was a miracle how her best friend had driven with ease and dragged her bum up home last night, even when they both took the same number of shots and bottles. Despite the intoxication, Akira remembered the night flawlessly, including that weird side trip to a fortune teller. Erin is a fun drunk – not that she got drunk ever – and knowing the future, no matter how unfortunate, is part of her pain-is-an-adventure thing. “You do know that we’re about to get scammed, right?” Akira asked when Erin pulled over at the fortune teller’s shop. The woman in the dress just shook her head in disbelief. “For someone who sees the dead all the time, i