by Rose, Rhea
Furious, I put my foot on his money bag.
“Move it, bitch.”
“Excuse me?” I hardly breathed out the words. By now he’d quit his lewd behavior. I wanted to drag this guy to the police! But even with my foot on the bag of cash, he concentrated on getting all that money back into the brown paper bag. Once secured, he pushed my foot off of the bag, kissed the top of it, glanced up at me one last time and had the audacity to hand me a slip of paper. Then he did an acrobatic leap backward and ran down Lovers’ Lane, around the corner and out of sight.
Slowly I became more aware of the slip of paper in my hand -- a phone number and a few words.
"THERE’S MORE WHERE THIS CAME FROM. CALL ME. DEVON RAKER."
Then I noticed some forgotten cash at my feet. An entire bundle.
I scooped it and flipped through the bills.
Hundreds.
They had to be fake.
I hurried from the lane with the bundle of cash in hand. I needed to get to the bottom of this, so I pushed the slip of paper with his phone number deep into my pocket and ran after him. After all, he had Sia.
Maybe buying her back was a possibility.
Chapter 7 of Wands
A struggle in the Curio
When I ran out onto the main street of Meadowvale after spending time in Lovers’ Lane, it was like stepping into another dimension. The sun shone, happy people shopped and ate ice cream at the sidewalk cafes. According to the village clock, it was just past noon, but I didn’t feel hungry, only determined. I looked up and then down the street for Devon.
I held the bundle of cash out in front of me like a dead fish. I really wanted to drop it straight into my purse and go shopping, but I didn’t. I figured finding Devon was like finding a needle in a hay stack, yet no sooner did I have the thought then I glimpsed Devon's shadowy form as he entered a nearby shop. “Hey,” I yelled, “Devon, you forgot something!” He looked backed and waved at me, he taunted me to follow.
The shop he slipped into was next door to a bakery which had just started to bake its bread. The delicious waft of sweet, rising dough made my mouth water and my tummy grumble. A few feet away a sidewalk sandwich board read: MAISIE THE PSYCHIC IS IN TODAY.
I stood outside Maisie’s Curio wondering what business he had in a place like hers. The Curio shop looked respectable, and I remembered passing it many times and thinking one day I’d go inside and check it out. Maybe even get a tarot card reading.
Now seemed as a good a time as any.
Through the gift shop’s window I saw that every corner was filled with large scented candles that stood like sentries beside skinny sticks of incense; sparkling crystals, rocks and crystal ware, as well as hand blown glass balls, silk scarves and other beautiful, gifty things which attracted me. Not one, but two security cameras protected the shop inside, and I’d noticed one outside, too.
In the back the shadowy movement of Devon caught my eye. He looked so scruffy and out of place that I wondered if he planned to rob Maisie’s, maybe that’s how he got his money. I couldn’t see anyone else in there, but I decided to go in and confront the creeper with his brick of money.
A series of soft door chimes sounding very much like the trickle of water, announced my arrival. Once inside, my dread and concern melted away. From where I stood I was able to see the sales counter but no one manned the cash register. That bothered me a little. The shop seemed empty. I noticed a large, leather bound book, the kind of book I’d seen in antique shops with gold trim and embossed spines. I ran my hand along the outside of the book and a small tremor tickled my fingers. It read --The Knowitall Journals –
*
I pulled open the cover and saw hand written journal entries and the title of the book written again in black script. I laughed at that. There was a calligraphy pen nearby and a bottle of red ink. I thought the red ink was curious. A little soft music played giving the shop a meditative ambiance and making it feel far away from the bustle of downtown Meadowvale.
I left the journal and headed deeper into the Curio.
Soft Celtic voices sang me in and through the shop. The whispery voices chorused all around me. The interior smelled liked mint and the scent massaged my stressed out brain. I wandered soothed and disarmed by the sounds and the sweet and savory smells of the place. The items for sale were a feast to the eyes; soft colored scarves arranged in harmonious patterns, hand blown balls of glass that looked like miniature worlds, baubles of every color caught the light through the window and reflected around the interior. Everything appeared carefully displayed and designed to nourish the senses. Any fear I might have had left me as I touched and fondled interesting items all the way to the backroom.
There, a sign over a door read: TAROT CARD READINGS.
As I stepped in to the rear of the shop the first thing I noticed was the old fashioned fortune-telling machine with a gypsy-like figure on the inside. She sat quiet and guard like at the threshold between front and rear of the place. The automaton inside looked very familiar. I studied it a minute and wondered where I’d seen one like it. I tried to read the slightly rusted sign above the figure’s head, but there was a tarp partially draped over it. And I couldn’t reach high enough to move it to the side.
Beyond the fortune telling machine was a smaller, more intimate room. It had dry aquariums with small cacti and other things growing in rainbow colored sand and the lights from the aquarium lids glowed softly. What drew my attention was a sturdy looking card table draped in a beaded burgundy and black cloth. Two chairs tucked under the table looked ready to receive customers. A small, lit votive sat on the table. A deck of tarot cards inside a box, but with the lid off, also appeared to await the arrival of a guest. I decided to be that guest and took a seat. I picked up the deck of cards, and shuffled them, and instantly I became mesmerized by the design on the back of the cards, a hypnotic swirl of sorts that moved.
Right away my hands became possessed as they endlessly shuffled and reshuffled the gorgeous cards; spiral pinwheel designs whorled and sparkled and danced like fireworks. My fingers moved rhythmically around the cards.
The sound of a toilet flush broke the spell!
The closet bathroom door was camouflaged, but once my eyes discerned its outline, it became obvious-- purple with a very psychedelic pattern of a purple fleur de lis design from the 70’s, and the papered door had a soft and fuzzy touch. I looked carefully at the busy pattern and found myself getting dizzy. A small handle that looked as if it belonged more on a dresser drawer then on a bathroom door was hidden in the pattern.
I heard a sound from beyond the door.
Someone was in there!
I should’ve run from the shop right then and there. Instead, I went back to the table and put the cards down and tried to tidy them and the table so that nothing looked amiss. The instant I began to reorganize the items on the table, my obsessive compulsiveness took over, and I couldn’t resist making the minute adjustments necessary to make the votive, the box of cards, the lid and the cloth covering the table form a picture that made sense to me, a small attractive display which gave me that strong feel of story, as if a narrative were about to rise through the edges of the assembled items.
I began to chew my bottom lip, and I felt my, by now, familiar body stutter—the shake just before the sneeze. I knew at the same time that someone was about to enter the room, but I couldn’t prevent what happened next.
I made my noise -- like a nasal sneezey aaaphoo, a sound like none other.
Nothing on the table moved.
No one had actually entered the room, so once again I picked up the deck of cards and the sparkles blasted up tiny and fiery between my fingers, even more startling than the first time, but I sensed no heat or prickle of any kind and an absolutely amazing thing happened.
The miniature fireworks formed a tiny sparkling image of Sia that hovered just over the backs of my hands.
I marveled at Sia’s image.
“Sia!”
I called quietly to her, not wanting to frighten the kitten, unable to take my eyes from the darling little face. I watched in dismay as she began to fade from the tiny sparkling splendor, but the last thing to remain hanging and glittering from the back of the cards was her sweet little mouth grinning back at me.
Chapter 8
Queen of Pentacles: A Good Business Woman
I had the strongest urge to retrieve that phone number Devon gave me and give him a call. Where was he? If he was in the bathroom, in the shop, I’d hear his ringing phone. I retrieved his number and time fast forwarded on me. I pulled out my phone, typed in his number, held it to my ear, listened to it ring and after the third ring, I thought, wait a minute, what am I doing? I put the phone down on the table, too late.
“Jane? ”
I stared at my phone as if it was a rat. “Oh, eff off.” Again, the sound of a flushing toilet came from behind a closet door. This rather rude noise snapped me back to reality. I heard a door quietly close, and I expected to see the shop owner appear from the small washroom in back, instead, Devon walked out.
“Here I am,” he said holding out his arms.
I looked from the phone to him; he was actually in the room and not in the phone. He wore a white ribbed wife-beater undershirt. His chest tattoos seemed alive and vivid with color. He looked in great shape. His pipes were well worked out, so much so, that the veins in his biceps popped. Before I uttered another word Devon joined me at the table, took my hand, and turned it as if to read my palm; he traced a few lines with his finger then lifted my fingers to his mouth and sensually sucked on one. I loved it!
Devon made crazy love to my fingers, hand and arm. He worked his way up to my shoulder, and face until he loomed over me, as if he wanted to make out with me right then and there. I raised my free hand to stop his seduction, but once again, I seemed trapped in his spell.
I stood and attempted to leave, then hesitated and sat back down, feeling conflicted.
I barely managed to maintain control of myself; I was so thrilled by his touch and yet, strangely offended by his brashness. In that moment, I found myself slipping my free hand around his neck, and pulling him to me. I kissed him passionately. His lip ring clacked gently against my teeth. At the same time I didn’t want to kiss him, yet, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Where’s Sia?” I asked through the passionate kisses.
“All in good time, Jane,” he growled.
The next thing I knew we were into it. Kissing heavily, licking faces like ice-cream cones. His five o’clock shadow scratched me as I rubbed against it. His cologne, subtle and warm went straight to my brain, making me want more of him. I don’t know how he managed to lean across the table and pull my sweater from my shoulders. In moments he’d found my bra and slipped my arm free of one strap. Then I tore his wife-beater away from his torso, exposing his six-pack and that little line of hair that dives below the belt. Meanwhile, the table, wobbled between us. He stared deeply into my eyes, into my heart and I felt him inside my head and in my soul! I froze as Devon probed me with his dark, hot thoughts of lust. Then we were on the table; it wobbled dangerously as he pushed against me.
The cards and votive hung dangerously near the edge.
This was impossible!
The table wouldn’t hold us.
But he seemed unconcerned, focused on absorbing my very being. I frantically waved one arm. In an attempt to balance us, I frantically waved my one free arm but waving couldn’t keep us balanced on the shaky table.
The inevitable happened.
The rattling and clanking of the table, while Devon ground his gears and made sparks, should have warned us that the table was about to fold like it had the knees of a camel. My phone went spinning away, and I heard it beep and make a random call, or at least I heard the voice of a female, but that wasn’t my concern at that moment.
Someone else had stepped into the room.
Caught in this position—with Devon!
A female hand retrieved the deck of cards and the votive candle moments before they met their gravitational fate.
She cleared her throat. I swear I heard her say, “What fun!”
But Devon’s body lay across me, blocking a full view.
“AAAAhhh.”
The table began wilder, violent wibbles and wobbles as it hit the floor. In an incredibly athletic move Devon leaped up like he was snapped to his feet by a rope on his back. He stood there looking down at a disarrayed me. I lay there like a turtle on its back. He offered me a hand.
I took his warm, strong grasp and let him pull me up.
The woman who’d entered the room looked older, maybe in her late fifties. Her dark hair was laced with fine strands of silver. It hung a smidgen below her jaw line. Her hair cut didn’t look bad, very classy actually, even if her hair looked a little thin, although she herself looked well fed. This woman gave me a welcoming stare that reminded me of the aboriginal women I’d met at the weekly farmers’ market. Like them, she had dark almond shaped eyes, so dark they looked black and shiny. She was very pretty in a mature kind of way. Her attire was slightly odd because she wore a long navy blue skirt that brushed the floor. The skirt flowed and ebbed when she moved, silk, perhaps a silk blend.
The top she wore was embroidered with gold thread which made it glimmer under the halogens and looked more like a light jacket with a bit of military pomp to it, like a toned down majorette’s jacket. The three of us stood staring at one another. Behind me Devon started laughing. I turned and gave him my best, screw you look.
I found my lost shoes under a low chair, but I couldn’t reach them. I didn’t worry too much. They weren’t designer. I found my hairbrush in my purse and gave myself a couple of quick brushes; all the while I studied this strange woman’s jacket. I got a real vibe from it. There seemed to be something moving around in one of the large pockets that wanted out, but if I stared too hard the movement stopped. I figured the woman must be wearing a version of a stage magician’s jacket. That was the only thing that made sense to me.
“I’m Maisie Price,” the woman said, and she held out a hand for me to shake, which I did. Then I caught her glance toward Devon and she gave him an approving look, as if she was satisfied with me! I turned to Devon and he winked at Maisie.
I was monkey-in-the-middle here.
These two seemed to know each other. The woman then reached into her large jacket pocket and unceremoniously pulled out Sia.
“Sia!”
But I missed my opportunity to grab the cat. As I stepped toward the kitten, my hands were pre-occupied with re-buttoning my blouse and tucking it into my skirt. No sooner did I reach for my kitten then the woman returned Sia to her large gold embroidered pocket. I thought she was playing with me, so I impulsively reached inside her pockets, but Sia wasn’t there.
Chapter 9 Of Swords
A Dark Place
I wanted to pat the woman down, but she stopped me and reached for one of the buttons I’d missed on my blouse and did it up. “Uh, thanks, I think,” I said. She nodded. When I looked again to Devon, he’d vanished! I quickly turned back to Maisie, afraid that she too might vanish. “My cat? Sia?” I queried. Maisie raised an eyebrow at me.
“What about her?” she asked in a very relaxed manner.
“I’d like to have her back.”
“I don’t really have her.”
“I saw you put her in that pocket!”
Maisie moved to the collapsed table, picked it up and straightened it out. She replaced her table cloth, tarot cards and votive candle. She realigned the sprawled chairs and made everything look right. Maisie sat at the table her hands on the deck spreading the cards fan-like across the table top.
“Did I dream that?” I asked.
She looked up at me and gave me a little smile. “No. Devon ain't no dream,” she said.
“I mean Sia, and your pocket.” I pointed to her pocket. She stared at me, like she was trying to read me.
“I w
as like you, once. All rattle and roll.”
I shook my head slowly at her. I had no idea what she meant. I’d had enough of this scene. As hard as it was for me to do, I tried to return the brick of money Devon dropped at my feet to Maisie. I hoped that it would convince her to give me back Theodosia.
“I only want to return this money,” I said. I pulled the money from my purse, and gave the cash to the woman. “I think he stole it, like he did my cat. Maybe an exchange?" Maisie reached under her table. She pulled out a cash box, that I hadn’t noticed earlier and opened it. She dropped the brick of money inside with no mention of the kitten!
“He wanted you to have the cash, but it will pay for your reading.”
“That's some expensive reading.”
She looked at me again. Her kind face changed and took on a more sinister shade. “I'm more than worth it, lady,” she said. She scared me. So, I nodded in agreement, and so she wouldn’t fly off the handle. I really only wanted to get Sia and get the hell out of there. Maisie gestured to the tarot cards, but I refused, again. Normally, I’d go for a card reading in a second, but something about Maisie’s demeanor made me hesitate. “Turn your card,” she insisted.
I continued to straighten my clothing. Then I walked around the room looking for Devon. He must be hiding. I retrieved my phone from the floor. The cell screen displayed 911! Shit.
“If you’re looking for Devon, you won’t find him back there,” Maisie said.
“I don’t care about him. Tell me where Sia is and I'll turn the card,” I said smartly. She looked at the chair across from her, indicating that I should sit.
