Livvy had already starting cataloging the names of the few shamans that she knew about in the area.
“It’d be easier if you made an introduction,” she continued. “It’d be even better if you came with me.”
He stared at his pancakes.
Livvy picked up a syrup bottle and set it next to his plate.
“Here, eat,” she said, and reached for a bottle of syrup for herself. “You always think better when you eat.”
As he reached for the syrup, an overweight man in his late thirties appeared next to the table. He was wearing a shirt and tie. Livvy and SK both looked up at him.
“Uh, look,” he said. “We don’t want any trouble. So, how about if I box that up for you.”
“What?” asked Livvy.
SK looked down at the food and back at the man.
“It’ll be on the house, but it’ll have to be takeout.”
“What?” asked Livvy, again.
“I’m the manager,” the man said. “And we’d like the rest of our patrons to feel…comfortable.”
Livvy looked past the manager to the other booths. Everyone in the restaurant, including the waitresses and bus boys, was looking at them. Even though Livvy didn’t dress like a shaman, snippets of conversations that had been overheard might have been put together. In fact, it looked like they had been.
“Come on, Livvy,” SK said.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “We haven’t even started.”
“He’s kicking us out,” he said, under his breath, starting to scoot out of the booth.
“But he can’t–”
“Yes, he can,” said SK, standing.
Livvy started to scoot out as the man picked up the two plates.
“I’ll box these up for you,” he said.
“Keep it,” snapped Livvy.
“Don’t listen to her,” SK said. “Box it up.”
Livvy made a face at him.
“I’m hungry!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
LIVVY WAITED AS SK finished the last of his pancakes. She’d barely touched hers since he’d only had one kind of syrup. He had driven them to his place: a luxury condo in Santa Monica with underground, gated parking and a security guard in the lobby. As she looked around, she wondered if any other shaman had ever been here.
Like his car, his condo was tailored for him. He’d had the counters lowered in the gleaming and modern kitchen. The furniture was shorter as well–not particularly smaller, but lower.
“You cook a lot?” she asked.
“I don’t cook at all,” he said, sipping orange juice. “My cook is a little person. I like to support the community.”
“Oh, your cook,” Livvy said.
“Of course,” he said, putting down the glass. “Who has time for that?”
“Right,” she said slowly.
The view from the living room was spectacular, taking in the shoreline looking south toward Catalina Island. Livvy couldn’t stop staring at it. He came over and looked down the coast with her.
“Who knew shaman work could be so good,” she said.
He laughed. “What, this? My father owned a ball-bearing company on the west side for years. When he and my mother died, I sold it to his employees. Well, that’s the nice way to put it. They forced me out, but I took a good chunk of change with me for the trouble.”
Despite the tailored suits, she had somehow assumed that he wasn’t much better off than most of the shamans that he interacted with. It must rankle him to come to her neighborhood, she realized.
“So if you don’t need to work, what are you doing with all the shamanism stuff?”
“I didn’t say I don’t need to work.”
“Why shamanism?”
“Kind of a fluke,” he said as he went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
He took out a plastic container of cleaned and cut vegetables.
“Carrot?” he said, putting the container on the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.
“No, thanks,” she said, coming over and taking a seat on one of the low stools. “What kind of fluke?”
“A fluke,” he said, shrugging and munching. “That’s all.”
She watched him in fascination for a few seconds.
“Where do you put it?” she asked, as he popped another carrot in his mouth.
He shrugged again, munching.
“And you,” he said. “How did you get into shamanism?”
Her back stiffened. Dumb, she thought. If you ask, he’ll ask. Dumb.
“Oh, cat got your tongue?”
No one else in the world knew about her beginning in shamanism. She had never been able to bring herself to tell a soul. In fact, she had sometimes managed to put it from her own mind, until a moment like this. Then the horror of it came back–and the shame.
“Earth to Livvy,” said SK.
She blinked a few times and then stared at him.
“I…” she started, as her hands clenched into fists on her thighs.
The pained look on SK’s face made her wonder what hers must look like. She tried to smile.
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe that’s enough question and answer for today.”
He turned and put the vegetables back in the refrigerator.
The pain in the palms of her hands made her realize she was digging in her nails. Slowly, she unclenched the fists and took a deep breath.
SK left the kitchen and went over to the window, hands in pockets as he looked down at the beach.
“You know, I’m a traditionalist,” he said, still looking out the window. “I think the rules are there for a good reason.”
Livvy slumped down on her stool. In the diner, he seemed like he might agree to help her. Now, he’d had time to think about it. He turned around to face her.
“I also think that there comes a time when the rules may not help.”
She perked up.
He shook his head and grimaced. “It goes against millennia of tradition,” he continued. “It makes me…uneasy, but I don’t see another way. It can’t go on like this.”
He paused and looked at her as Livvy held her breath.
“But that’s not how most shamans feel,” he said. He took out his phone. “Still, there might be a few who would see it that way.”
“Really?”
“Well, I’m not promising anything. You know how shamans can be.”
“I was thinking that maybe Alvina, out in Palm Springs, would be a good one,” she offered, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.
“Oh, really,” he said, scrolling through his address book. “And how do you know Alvina?”
“I’ve heard her name around,” said Livvy. “Are you going to dial her and then put me on the phone so you don’t have to give me the number?”
“This isn’t something you just chat about over the phone,” he said, and stopped scrolling. “This business is face-to-face. We go to their turf. We let them see us. We play by their rules.”
He paused to let it sink in.
“Let me see if she’s logged in,” he said, looking back at his phone.
“Logged in?”
“To the internet,” he said. He looked up and saw Livvy’s astonished face. “You mean you’re not using social media to connect with potential clients?” He started scrolling on the phone again. “Yeah, there she is.” He clicked on something and started typing and then paused, waiting.
“You mean, shamans are on the internet, right out in the open?” Livvy asked.
“Oh no, not in the open. It’s all anonymous with creative usernames and e-mail addresses, and the like. I might be the only person who knows where any of these people actually live and what their real names are.”
A message popped up on his phone. He typed something back. Again, he waited. Then another message appeared.
“Good,” he said. “You’re on. Let’s go.”
“Now? Just like that?”
“Yep,” he said, picking up his keys. “Just like that.”
“Are we going to Palm Springs?” she said, standing up.
“Nope. We’re going to Watts.”
CHAPTER FORTY
NOT FAR FROM the Watts Towers, SK turned down a narrow alley. His small hands did the steering, the gas, and the brake, all from the special attachments on the column. Livvy had watched with fascination for most of their drive. Once they got off the freeway and headed east toward Watts, she took more notice of the surroundings.
“You know,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”
He snorted. “A green-eyed girl with hair the color of snow has never been to Watts. There’s a news flash.”
“Is it really all that dangerous anymore?”
“Not for me,” he said, confidently. “But for you?”
He snorted again.
At the end of the alley, there was a single empty parking space, a painted white rectangle on the ground. He pulled into it.
“Are you sure you can park here?” Livvy asked as they got out.
“They leave it open for me.”
There was more to SK and his world than Livvy had ever considered. Even though she’d know him for a couple of years, she’d never been in his car, let alone given a thought to where he lived. Here, in Watts, he had his own parking space.
He locked the car and they went over to the back step of what appeared to be several small stores. He marched up and stood under the awning, looking up as he pressed the doorbell. Within seconds there was a clicking sound and he pulled open the door.
“She’s usually watching,” he said.
Livvy glanced up as someone disappeared from the window behind thick draperies.
“I talk, you listen,” said SK.
“Right.”
The first floor was a cramped grocery store. Livvy and SK had walked into the back, where the crates were unpacked. He took a quick right and they headed up a narrow set of stairs. Before they reached the top, they found they were at the end of a line of people.
“Coming through,” said SK, sliding against the wall on the left.
“Excuse me,” said Livvy, trying not to jostle people. “Pardon me,” she said, bumping into someone as a tiny spark of static electricity popped almost imperceptibly.
The man she had bumped was turning around to say something to her but instead just stopped and stared.
The line of people went to the top of the stairs, followed the hallway to the right, and went about half-way down to a door where a large black man in a black leather jacket and sunglasses stood, his hands clasped in front of him, watching the line of people. He looked like a weightlifter, wide at the shoulders, his hair cropped close and his mutton chop sideburns ending in sharp points near the corners of his mouth.
As SK approached, he nodded. “SK,” he said, in a deep voice.
“Bruno,” replied SK.
Bruno turned to Livvy, looked down and then up, and then turned his head back to SK.
“She’s expecting us,” SK said. He tilted his head at Livvy. “I can vouch for her.”
Bruno nodded again and opened the door.
“Turn around and enter backwards,” said SK, as he turned around and began backing up.
“What?” said Livvy, but as SK vanished into the curtained entry, she quickly did likewise.
There was grumbling in the line in the hallway.
“We’ve been waiting all day,” someone mumbled, but not loud enough that Bruno needed to respond.
Livvy glanced back out the door as it was closing and then walked backward through the thick curtain. She felt a hand on her arm. SK, who was facing forward once again, motioned for her to turn around.
Inside, the room was dark, lit only by a few logs burning in the fireplace. Livvy realized that the air conditioning must be running on high to keep the room at a decent temperature. Animal skin rugs of various types lined the entire floor. There were bright paintings hanging on the dark walls, portraits of various men and women, but painted in garish glowing colors. It was like a gallery of multicolor saints, each one gazing directly at the viewer, all holding a significant prop in their hands. In the center of the fireplace mantel was a small cloth doll with outstretched arms and legs–a voodoo doll.
“SK,” said a silky voice from somewhere in the dimness.
Livvy realized that there was an elaborate carved wood screen that divided the room in two.
“Ursula,” he said.
A tall figure, taller than Livvy, seemed to glide from behind the screen. Her deeply black skin was in stark contrast to her bright pink head wrap. She wore a long flowing gown of crimson velvet trimmed with pink and gold. Small beaded designs at her waist caught the firelight and twinkled. Suspended in the deep V of the neckline was a large cabochon of fire opal that hung from a wide, flat gold chain. Her neck was long and she moved with the unhurried pace of royalty, graceful as well. She came to a stop in front of them and was looking at Livvy, particularly at her hair, raising one eyebrow. She might have been in her fifties, her skin glowing with vitality and health, with power.
In her t-shirt and jeans, Livvy felt miserably underdressed for the occasion.
“Ursula, this is Livvy.”
“Yes,” said Ursula, studying her. “So Ursula gathered.”
For a second, Livvy was confused and then realized that Ursula was referring to herself in the third person. Her voice was as beautiful as she was, and her manner was reserved–the opposite of the surroundings.
“You said it was…urgent,” said Ursula, looking down at SK.
“It’s urgent if you want to work again,” he said.
“Always to the point,” she said, a small curl to her full lips, no invitation to sit down.
“That’s quite a line out there,” he said.
“It is a busy time.”
Ursula had a faint accent that Livvy couldn’t quite place–something Caribbean perhaps, or Creole.
“We both know why there’s a line,” he paused, looking at Livvy and then back to Ursula. “We all know it’s impossible to work.”
“Oh, you think Ursula can not work?” she glanced at Livvy and then back at SK.
“No,” he said. “I know it.”
She didn’t say anything.
“That’s why we’re here,” he continued. “Livvy might have figured out a way to help the situation.”
“Does Livvy have a voice?” she said, turning towards her.
At that moment, Livvy felt that she might not have a voice and coughed. Ursula raised one eyebrow and crossed her long thin arms in front of her. Livvy cleared her throat.
“I’ve figured out a way to hook goggles together,” she said. “I think that if we’re linked, we can combine strength.”
“Combine strength.”
“Yeah, help each other, in the Multiverse.”
“How does it work?”
“Well, I don’t exactly know,” Livvy said.
Ursula stared at her and then at SK.
“That is all you have? This is why you want to see Ursula?” she said testily, her dark eyes glittering.
“I’ve got to work with other shamans to get it figured out but I know it will work,” said Livvy quickly.
“We need your help,” said SK.
“You need a guinea pig. Ursula is no guinea pig.”
“What are you going to do with that line of people out there?” SK said, hands still in pockets but indicating with his head.
“Them?” she said, turning back to the wooden screen. “Most of them need to stop using, smoking, and drinking. Ursula has herbs and the like to get them through.”
Ursula went over to the altar and pushed a small white button that looked like a doorbell. The front door opened behind them and Bruno came in. Ursula turned back to them, restored to her imperial self, and waited.
Confused, Livvy looked at Bruno and SK and then back to Ursula.
“Thank you for your
time, Ursula,” said SK, inclining his head.
Ursula inclined hers ever so slightly and never even looked at Livvy. They were done.
Back in the car, SK turned on the engine and took out his phone, scrolling through the address book. Livvy was still trying to digest what she’d just seen. She looked up to the window and saw Ursula looking at her. The woman had a line of people waiting to see her. Incredible. And a bouncer.
“Why did we have to enter backwards?”
“It has to do with Ursula’s loa, the particular spirit with which she identifies. Entering the realm of that loa is like an inversion of the normal world. Up is down, right is wrong, and backwards is forwards.”
Livvy watched as Ursula closed the curtain.
“You’re going to have come up with something better than ‘I think it’ll work’,” he said.
She turned to him and hung her head, nodding. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Somehow, Livvy had thought that another shaman would jump at the chance to link up in the Multiverse. She would have. Apparently, not all shamans were like her–not even close. Maybe she’d have better luck with a shaman that she had more in common with.
“I need a meeting,” he said.
“What?” said Livvy, looking at him. He was on the phone.
“About an hour and a half,” he said. “I’m bringing somebody with me.” He looked at Livvy. “No, not a client. Somebody I think you should meet. Her name is Livvy.” He looked out the front window. “Yes, that’s the one.”
The one what? Livvy thought.
“Okay, an hour and a half, we’ll see you then,” he said and hung up.
“The one what?” she asked.
“Just a second,” he said, texting somebody.
While he waited for a reply, he went to another social media app and direct messaged somebody else. For several minutes, he texted and DM’d.
“I want to set these up now,” he said, still typing. “I have a feeling we’re going to be doing a bit of traveling today.”
When he’d finally finished and put the car in gear, she asked again, “The one what?”
“Sometimes word gets around,” he said.
Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3 Page 15
