Chapter 9
It was the night of Jill’s masquerade party. It was chilly but not too cold, which was great for the girls who favored slutty insert-civil-occupation costumes. Tonight Memphis would be one of those girls. She was young, single, and ready to mingle. Jonathan preferred that she dress conservatively; he liked her menswear-inspired ensembles. She should have seen that red—er, rainbow flag. Well, that was why hindsight was twenty-freaking-twenty.
She did her hair and makeup, but wanted to wait until she got to Jill’s before she changed into her costume. She wasn’t ready to ride the subway in a black corset. Gemma texted to tell her she would meet her there with her new suitor. Jill promised that there would be plenty of food and men and that she would definitely go home with something yummy—oh, and maybe a plate of food, too.
Memphis felt a bit nervous. She wasn’t used to talking to men her age. She had always dated older men who preferred that she didn’t speak, which took a lot of the pressure off her. Men in their twenties liked sassy, quick-witted girls who wore glasses and miniskirts. At least, that was what she gathered from the television shows she’d started watching. After all, her nights were no longer spent collecting data for her research.
She walked the short distance to Jill’s building—not apartment, but building. Her parents bought it for her. If their baby was going to leave their big, warm home in Texas, she would have a big, warm home in New York. She unlocked the door with her key; they used to live together until Jill and Wesley became serious. Memphis kindly offered to move out and they, to her chagrin, kindly accepted. She walked into the wide foyer and into uniformed human traffic.
The caterers were still setting up. It looked like a Broadway production, with Baron, Jill’s party planner, orchestrating it from the center of the living room. He greeted her with two air kisses and informed her that her majesty was upstairs getting ready. She was micromanaging as usual, waiting until the very last minute to get dressed. Ah, such a Type A Leo. Memphis shook her head as she ascended the stairs. She had been heavily researching horoscopes and the zodiac in preparation for her new gig. It led her to some very interesting discoveries about herself and her friends.
Jill was sitting at her vanity when Memphis entered her suite. With her rouged lips and hair in pin curls, she resembled an old Hollywood starlet preparing for her first day on the movie set.
“Hello doll face,” Jill greeted her.
“Hi-yah.” Memphis set her bag on the marble coffee table in the middle of the room. She grabbed her corset and pencil skirt before stepping behind the dressing screen to change. When she finished dressing, she met Jill in front of the mirror. Jill was in a white corset and satin shorts. She wore a top hat, and her silver mask glittered in her right hand. Memphis opted for black and gold. They were like yin and yang; Jill was her sister from another mister. Maybe from the same mister—hey, you never know.
“Memphis, your eyes look amazing. Are you wearing contact lenses?”
“What? Oh, no. I mean, yes. Thanks,” Memphis stammered. She was hoping that no one would notice the strange change in her eye color. Her hazel eyes were turning bright blue. Her vision wasn’t affected; in fact she no longer needed her glasses to watch television or anything else. Nonetheless, she would soon have to schedule an appointment with the eye doctor.
“We look so hot!” Jill exclaimed interrupting her mental dialogue. “I wish Wesley and Jonathan were here to see us now. Wait a minute—no, I don’t. I totally take that back. Let’s go party!” She pulled Memphis toward the door.
They came down the stairs in time to meet the first guests. They all wore masks, but it wasn’t as if Memphis would know who they were anyway. Jill was the social butterfly; her wings would flutter and people would follow. The party quickly filled up and strangers in masks filled every corner of Jill’s large space. Drinks flowed, pushing people to the dance floor.
Memphis pushed past the grinding bodies to get to the bathroom. There wasn’t a line, so she was able to slip in and check her hair and makeup. She looked great, but no one had approached her. She took part in a few conversions with groups that eventually paired off, leaving her to awkwardly stand alone until she could attach herself to another selection of partygoers. All she needed was one guy to have a conversion with her; he didn’t have to propose. Whatever, it was their loss. Most men wouldn’t know a good woman if one ran right into them. She opened the door and stepped right into the arms of a purple masked guy.
She should have known this would happen. With the way things were going, she would be able to speak a man into existence. Ever since they discovered she was astrogirl88, she hadn’t received any more e-mails from herself. Her subconscious may have finally met her ego.
He smelled like cedar and something else—something familiar. She couldn’t place it. “Whoa,” he said catching her shoulders. “Running from the toilet?”
He looked behind her into the empty bathroom and then back at her with one thick eyebrow raised in question. His blue eyes twinkled behind his mask, and his full lips were forming the most disarming smile. Memphis simply stared at him until he waved a hand in front of her face. She cleared her throat.
“No, I just wanted to get back to the party.”
“I don’t blame you. Everyone is having a blast. Boss lady knows how to throw quite a bash.”
They both looked out at the sea of gyrating hips.
“Boss lady? You work with Jill?” If he worked for the newspaper, she would definitely be able to find out who this masked man was. He must have read her mind, because he quickly backtracked.
“No, that’s just what I heard everyone else calling her, so I followed suit.”
“Oh.” Of course she didn’t believe him. She wanted to question him a bit more, but he distracted her by dragging her toward the dance floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, since you seem to be in a hurry to get back to the party, I thought I would oblige.”
They stopped right in the middle of the floor and he rested his hands on her hips. His face was close to hers and his stubble occasionally brushed her cheek. Neither of them spoke. They simply moved to the beat, which was a good thing because Memphis wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway. All she heard was the blood rushing to her head. She couldn’t believe she was dancing with a real live boy!
The music switched to a more upbeat, Latin-inspired tempo, and he kept up with her salsa. They kicked it old school to a few late 90s hits, bursting into laughter when they successfully completed the Kid ‘n Play. Just when she was getting comfortable dancing with her handsome partner, the music changed to slow jams —the sexiest slow jams from the 90s the DJ could play.
She wanted to call it quits and get a drink, but he took her hand and pulled her in close. For this stretch his stubble applied for a full-time position against her cheekbone. Memphis tried to keep her movements small. She moved carefully, not wanting to break the spell. She didn’t go to her high school prom; her foster parents had stolen the money she saved up to buy a dress. Rent, they told her, and slammed their bedroom door in her tear-streaked face. Unlike Cinderella, the mice in their home did not know how to sew. No fairy tale ending for her, but that was then and this is now.
She looked up at her dance partner. She wanted to memorize every feature of his face so she could recall every detail of this moment whenever she needed to. He looked down at her, but it seemed more like he was looking through her. She felt a familiar pressure in her temples, and her body hummed. She knew he felt it, too. They hadn’t made any formal introductions, but she knew him. The knowledge was lodges somewhere deeper than in her mind’s memories. Her body reacted to his; it was magnetic. Their eyes were locked during the entire song; neither of them moved their heads or even seemed to blink. He slowly began to tilt his face toward her, and for a moment it felt like he was going to kiss her. Then someone tapped him on the shoulder.
It was a woman. She was slight but looked strong,
and she was very beautiful, from what Memphis could tell. She also wore a purple mask—they must have come as a set.
“Hello,” she greeted them brusquely. “Sorry, but we have to leave.”
She tugged Memphis’s mystery man’s arm to show that “we” was actually the two of them. He looked at the woman and then at Memphis. He gave her a wistful smile before apologizing and walking away with the woman. She watched the purple strings, tied at the back of their heads, disappear into the crowd. She never felt more alone.
“Memphis, is that you?” she heard someone call out.
She turned in the direction of the voice and spotted a flame-haired woman on her right. “Gemma?”
“Yes, it’s me. I saw you out there! Who was that gorgeous lad?”
“I don’t know; I didn’t get his name. He just left with that woman. I think that was his girlfriend.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry. Maybe you shall meet again. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Isn’t that right, Gregoire?” She turned to the tall man next to her.
“Yes, my love. Que sera, sera.”
Great. Any more overused phrases you’d like to throw at me? Memphis suppressed the need to roll her eyes.
“Memphis, I’d like to introduce you to Gregoire. He’s the one who has been keeping me away from our apartment.” She nuzzled her face into his shoulder, pushing her mask down to her nose. It looked like Gregoire was unable to keep Gemma away from the alcohol. For a British girl, she was quite a lightweight.
“Hello, Gregoire. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She smiled and looked up at him. His blue eyes were familiar. He quickly looked away, breaking eye contact.
“Yes, it is so good to meet you, Memphis. Gemma has told me so much about you. Unfortunately, we were on our way out. Gemma has had a bit too much to drink, and I really must get her home to bed.”
“Oh yes! Let us get to bed.” Gemma’s face was now lodged in Gregoire’s armpit. Memphis helped him get Gemma out the door, down the brick steps, and into a cab. She bid them adieu and headed back to the party. She was no longer in a festive mood and decided to just head home instead of spending the night at Jill’s as originally planned.
She went upstairs, got her things, and checked her watch. It wasn’t even midnight; it was still early enough to take the subway instead of a cab. She looked for Jill to wish her goodnight, but spotted her white satin clad bottom seated on the knee of a guest.
The guy was looking at her with pure adoration. She saw a sudden flash of them sitting that way but much older. He was The One. Memphis smiled to herself and decided not to disturb them, but shot Jill a quick text just in case she looked for her later.
She was halfway down Jill’s block when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn’t see anyone when she turned to look. She half jogged the rest of the way to the station and made it into the car right before the doors closed.
She had caught an express train and arrived at her stop in just a few minutes. The cold air felt good against her face as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The first few blocks of her route home were fine because they were right on 86 Street and heavily populated, but she just hated having to walk down the last quiet block. She couldn’t imagine living in the suburbs with no one walking the streets.
The sound of footsteps behind her interrupted her thoughts. It was probably someone walking a dog. She turned to look, but no one was there. She continued walking, increasing her pace. Again, she heard footsteps. She walked a little faster; the footsteps followed suit. She started to jog; she could hear them getting closer. She began running, and so did the person behind her. Someone was chasing her! She felt a surge of adrenaline. She just had to get into her apartment. She would be safe. She pictured her blue sofa. She just had to get home. Get home.
“Home,” she wheezed out. “Home. Home. Home.”
Suddenly, she was on her sofa in her apartment.
“How the hell…?” She saw that the door was wide open. She jumped up and slammed it shut. After turning all the locks, she slid down in front of it. She looked in the mirror, which was across the hallway from her. She was shaken and confused. She didn’t know whom she feared more: the person on the other side of the door or the person in the mirror.
Chapter 10
It was Memphis’s first day at Sign of the Times, and Jill greeted her with concern. She’d spent the rest of the weekend avoiding phones calls and searching on the internet for answers about what the hell was happening to her. She didn’t want to tell Jill about what happened on her way home. Uncannily accurate horoscopes were cute, but teleporting was another thing. She gave her a lame excuse about having her period and dealing with menstrual cramps. Jill nodded in understanding and sympathy. Then she proceeded to get down to business.
She gave her a tour of their offices, which were quite impressive. Not that she was surprised; Jill wouldn’t work in ugly office space. In college, she actually dropped a class because it was held in a badly decorated room in the building.
“There was wasp-themed wallpaper,” she told Memphis in horror.
Jill was dealing with the end of her two-minute engagement very well. “The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one,” she quipped.
Easier said than done. Jill had men lining up at her door as soon as they heard she was single. She was prime real estate in the dating market. Memphis felt like a condemned property.
“This is Amelia and Thomas. They are interns,” Jill said, introducing two individuals who looked no older than fourteen. “Coffee,” she ordered. They quickly left to get the beverages.
“They were college freshmen? Man, I feel old.”
“I know! I had to check their driver’s licenses before I hired them.”
She sat down behind her large, glass desk. She really was the boss; behind her desk she looked the part. She handed Memphis a folder full of paperwork to complete and turn in to human resources. She went on to explain Memphis’s actual job description: Initially, she would write a monthly and a weekly horoscope. If people liked her predictions, she would go on to write daily horoscopes and receive a raise. In addition to the horoscopes, she would write one feature article per week about a topic related to astrology.
“Oh, that reminds me. You will actually be writing the horoscope for fourteen zodiac signs, not twelve.”
“Fourteen?” Memphis was confused.
“Yup. Apparently there are actually fourteen constellations in the zodiac. Here, take a look at this.” She handed her a research paper written by a Dr. Virgil White.
“I know this guy.”
“You do?”
“Not personally. He hosts a local program called The Universe Now. He discusses a more in-depth and scientific approach to astrology.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should try to contact him for an interview. That could be your first article!”
“I’ve already tried contacting him for, um, a personal project. He hasn’t responded yet. As soon as he does, I’ll request an interview.”
“Great. Wow, Memphis, you’re off to great start! C’mon, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff.”
They went around the newsroom and Jill made introductions. Memphis nodded, said hello, and quickly forgot everyone’s names. Jill brought her to the desk she would use; it was across from a journalist.
“Lawrence will be your desk mate. He’s the reporter who pitched the third-eye murder case. He’s not at his desk, but he should be here somewhere.” She looked around. “Oh, there he is. Lawrence!” She called in the direction of a shiny head of hair. Memphis recognized that head of hair. Lawrence turned around and walked over to them.
“What’s up, boss lady?” He gave them a smile.
Memphis swallowed a gasp. She instantly recognized him. It was the purple masked guy. He was here and he was her desk mate.
“I told you not to call me that,” Jill scolded him. “This is Memphis. She will be your part-time desk mate. She’s an astronomer working on her PhD
at Columbia. She’s going to be writing horoscopes for us.”
“Hello, Memphis.” He cocked his head; he seemed to know her too. Before he could place her, Memphis grabbed his hand and pumped it vigorously.
“Nice to meet you!” she said loudly.
“Em, honey, Lawrence isn’t deaf. That’s Charles. I introduced you to him earlier.”
“Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot,” Memphis covered. “So, Jill tells me that you covered the Third Eye murders.”
“Yes, I’m reporting on them. There have been two more homicides; they found a body last week in the Bronx, and another woman in Queens.”
“Outer boroughs,” Jill mumbled, wrinkling her nose.
“Excuse me, but I live in Queens! Maybe if I got a raise I could actually live on the island,” Lawrence chided.
“That’s terrible,” Memphis commented.
“Queens isn’t that bad.”
“No, Queens is great. They have the best arepa café on 36 Avenue. I was referring to the murders.”
“Oh yeah, I know the one. Those arepas are great. But yes, it is terrible.”
“Were the other victims teachers, too?”
“No. One was a stockbroker and the other was unemployed, but get this: she was last month’s mega jackpot winner.”
Memphis suddenly felt as if there were a pit in the middle of her stomach.
“Coffee is here!” Jill handed her a cup.
“Lawrence, what did the lottery winner look like?”
“Look like?” He seemed puzzled, but then his face brightened. “Wait, I have a picture. My sister’s a police officer in Queens; she sent me the victim’s mug shot. This woman was convicted for a bunch of petty crimes, but when she won the lottery, it looked like she would never have to steal again. She was on the front page of the mainstream papers—a real rags-to-riches story. I have it here somewhere. He searched his desk. Here it is.” Lawrence held up the mug shot.
Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch Page 7
