by Smith, Skye
She learned all about the evils of train tracks the hard way when her front wheel slipped into the crack and she went flying ass over teakettle in front of a car. Luckily, she was wearing a helmet, and luckily, the car was not a Bimmer, because the driver easily stopped in time and jumped out to help her up. No one in the traffic jam of cars that she caused seemed to mind the wait, and no one beeped impatiently while a man and his son checked her wheel out and then sat her on the bike and got her going again.
The reason she had fallen was because she hadn't been watching the road. She'd been distracted by the wares piled on a blanket being sold by an ad hoc street vendor. Especially a bolt of cloth that twinkled in the daylight. She would come back this way.
It was noon, and the market itself was jammed full of people grabbing lunch, so she didn't even go in. She did sit outside in the warm sun and watched a busker play classical guitar for a while until someone's little darling fed a seagull and all hell broke loose. She had to run away to save her hair from the creamy white offerings of the seagulls as they swooped in to get closer to the child with his half-eaten hamburger and big grin.
She found that the prices of crystals were much the same in the Rock and Mineral shop as in the Astral Wicca shop, with the difference being that in the Astral shop they were already set in a jeweler's cage and ready to hang on a necklace.
There were all sizes and colors but the shapes were always the same. The wiccan on staff said that was because there was magic in them. The retired geologist at the rock shop said it was because they were all quartz and that was the molecular enforced shape of a quartz crystal. She decided to buy one for herself from the wiccan shop and the ones for the guys from the geologist. Unfortunately, none of the crystals jumped off the shelf at her in either shop.
She had taken a good look at Sarthani's and knew that if he was actually an abbot, then something very similar to his in size and color was what she was looking for. Eventually the geologist showed her a hollow rock with crystals inside, called a geode, and this one had hundreds of small crystals inside and four large perfect ones. After laying down four of Erik's emergency fifties, it was hers.
It was fortunate for Maya, that being a geologist he knew stones and what he called fracture points. It was also fortunate that the Rock and Mineral Shop was not busy at that moment, and he time on his hands. He took her geode behind the counter and after much tapping and a little cursing, he laid the geode and the four separated crystals on the counter. He was alone in the shop, so while she went to buy him a coffee and a donut, he twisted silver cages around each of them. That cost another fifty.
She couldn't wait to try them out, so she rushed out to find the street vendor near the train track because she remembered piles of shoe laces on her blanket. She bought two pairs of white shoe laces and rushed back to the Rock shop. She strung the four crystals, each on its own lace, and hung them all in the potted fig tree that was beside the door.
She positioned herself so her back was to the geologist and then slid her shoulder straps down so that she could open the lotus. She could feel his eyes on her, but so what. At least she was out of sight of the people walking by the shop.
She charged each of the crystals one at a time, and each time a crystal let off a brilliant white light, she would turn slightly and do the next. The brilliance of the last was so bright, that the poor guy in the shop missed a complete wardrobe malfunction, which she was quick to fix.
"That was amazing, love. See something new every day these days. How did you do that? Do you have a laser light hidden in your hand or something?"
"The crystals seem to be able to store my aura," she said truthfully. He was a nice man, why would she lie?
"Aye, well that makes sense. It was the quartz crystal structure that was the beginning of the semiconductor breakthroughs for the electronics industry. If they can store computer info with them, then why not your aura?"
She committed the word semiconductor to memory so she could tell it to Erik. She hung all four crystals around her neck and shoved them down her cleavage, while the nice man put the heavy geode in a tough plastic bag for her. Luckily, her folding bike had a basket on the front handlebars.
She left the market island the same way she had come, and was overjoyed that the bolt of cloth was still on the blanket. She still had lots of Erik's money left, but didn't even need it because the cloth, which turned out to be a Thai silk wedding sarong, was only twenty dollars. The sparkles were because there were metal threads woven into the patterns.
* * *
* * *
MAYA'S AURA - the Refining by Skye Smith
Chapter 10 - Three years earlier at Kits Beach, Vancouver
All the way back to Kits beach she was smacking her lips in expectation of fries. She still hadn't made up her mind whether she should get a regular or a large, and ketchup or gravy, when she saw someone walk by with a mountain of fries smothered in gravy and cheese. She found it on the menu board and ordered her very first French Canadian Poutine. For ten minutes she forgot everything she had ever learned about table manners from Erik, and porked out. She was in heaven. It was a masterpiece of empty calories
Overly stuffed, she walked her bike and claimed a quiet place in the grass in front of a bench where a young couple was necking. She spread her glittering sarong out. She lay down on it but there was a stick under her spine, so she had to roll the sarong away and find the stick. It wasn't a stick, it was a miniature music player with ear plugs. She waved it at the couple but they shook their heads.
There was probably a lost and found at the life guard office, she reasoned, so she did the logical thing and pushed the plugs in her ears and turned it on, and lay back to listen to music until the owner came back to claim it.
She found the button to go to the next track and for five minutes she was pressing it. It was all bitchy music about how unhappy inner city youth are in some big city out east. Not a single song about sunshine, or how it glinted at her off the bay, or the pink of the bushes to the side of her, or how lush and green the grass was. She said "inappropriate" and switched it off, then rolled onto her tummy and let the warm sun caress her bare back and legs.
When the couple moved on, they were replaced by two old men, over forty, with smelly cigars, silk suits, and voracious eyes. She was going to leave, but they seemed so jumpy that she figured they wouldn't stay long. Unfortunately, it meant she had to listen to their rude comments about her. She had the choice of listen to them or turn the bitchy music back on.
"That right there is why I like having our private talks in the park, Larry. Look at that skin. How old do you think she is?"
"Too young for you, Murray. Besides, I thought you liked them with big boobs."
"Shush, she'll hear you."
"Nah, she's got her ears plugged in."
Maya could hear it all. Murray had a gruff voice, Larry had a weedy voice.
Gruff: "Bah, women with plastic boobs and clown lips don't turn me on any more. It used to be that all the men would envy you when you walked into a party with one. Now all they say is 'porn queen'. Who wants to be seen with a woman who looks like she gets drilled by studs on camera? Nah, I just gave the last one a kiss-off present, a diamond kiss-off present. Nothing cheap. It's time for me to try something young and fresh for a change."
Weedy: "Well, that one'll probably get you ten in the pen. What's the hurry?"
Gruff: "Got all those Olympic development parties to go to this week. You know, with the politicians and the movers and shakers. Only a sap would turn up solo. Nah, I need a woman that turns heads and makes the movers want to come over to meet me as an excuse to ogle her. That one is not as young as you think. Glam her up, she'd do fine. Mighty fine."
Weedy: "Yeah well, it's not going to happen. Let's get back to business so I can go back to the golf course."
Gruff: "There's nothing more to discuss. I have the geologist's true report post dated and in my safe. I've already put in an order to
buy a bunch more stock. We just have to release the faked up preliminary report, sell our shares into the bubble and then resign our positions on the board. By the time the true report is published, the crash won't be blamed on us."
Weedy: "Your going to need a good excuse to resign as president."
Gruff: "Eh, I'll just fake a heart attack and I humbly retire for health reasons."
Weedy: "That's right, you had that little one about two years ago."
Gruff: "Faked that too. Scared the shit out of Brandi, 'cause she was doing me at the time. I sure had good sex for the next six months. I told her that she was in my will, big time. She literally tried to ef me to death. It's always the way. You get a lot more out of women from promising them stuff, than from actually giving them stuff."
Weedy: "Yeah, stupid cows. That's why they endlessly bitch about the broken promises of their men. It's their own fault. They're as greedy as our shareholders. Promise them a big gold strike and they bid the stock to the heavens. Actually find gold and the value of the stock drops to the boring reality of earnings and PE's. Suckers. Sheeple. I would feel guilty about robbing all those pensioners if they weren't so greedy."
Gruff: "Don't worry. The securities commission will look the other way as usual."
Weedy: "Yeah, I love it when we have a conservative government. If the authorities bug you, you can yell that overregulation is stifling investment and then all the bureaucrats back off."
Gruff: "How's our Olympics play doing? Anyone complaining about the rape and pillage of the government treasury yet?"
Weedy: "They'll be too late. With events like the Olympics you take your money off the table before the event. There are billions to be scooped out of the public purse in cost overruns once the projects look late. The government will take the rap, but we'll pay our own politicians off with cushy jobs or fat pensions. Maybe some overseas postings."
Gruff: "Chile would be good. The fourteen families are in charge again. I love doing business down there. If an environmentalist gives you grief, oops, police find coke hidden under his mattress. Labor leader gives you grief, oops, police find coke hidden up his ass. The rich Chilenos really know how to run a great country for the rich to live in."
Weedy: "One last thing before I go back to the office. How safe is this geologist?"
Gruff: "A million safe. He won't double cross us. He knows what happened to that geologist in Indonesia. You remember, oops, tripped and fell out of the helicopter."
Weedy: "A million. Christ, get him on a helicopter. What'd that cost us? Five grand tops. Hey, I think she is waking up. You going to do anything?"
Gruff: "I'll bet you a buck that I can line her up for twenty dollars."
Weedy: "You still haven't paid me the last buck I won."
Gruff: "You cheated." This was followed by a good rolling laugh by both of them.
The conversation was interrupted when a young teen walked over to the girl and asked for something from her. She gave him her music player and earphones. He chatted for a while, but then hurried off.
Maya stood up and stretched, and then did a version of the yoga salutation to the sun. She needed the warmth of her aura after being drooled over by these old men. Bastards. Most of their conversation had been so much blah, blah, blah, but she understood one thing. These guys were silk suited crooks. She was folding her sarong when she felt a tap on her side.
"This twenty fell out of your bag," said the gruff man who was standing above her and tapping her with the bill.
"Oh thanks," she said, opening her bag. "No, it's not mine."
"Well, maybe it was under your spread. Gee, it's a pleasure to meet such an honest young person. Me and my brother Larry were just saying how healthy and wholesome you looked. I'm Murray." He held out his hand and took hers and shook it.
She felt a bit faint and swayed a bit, and he kept hold of her hand to steady her.
"You okay?" he asked. "Come on over and sit on the bench."
She felt so weak and tipsy that she stumbled along with him without thinking, but what she really wanted was for him to let go of her hand. A feeling of dark depression was overcoming her and the smell of charred toast was making her feel nauseous. Finally, after she had been half-dragged to sit on the end of the bench, he let go of her and she could breath again.
He sat down in the middle and put his inside arm over the back of the bench to hold himself in place so he could sit at an angle and look at her. "Do you want a drink of water? I'll go and buy you a bottle."
What she really wanted was to run away, but her mind stopped her. Her mind was clicking. She looked at the expensive suit and the diamond tie clip. She smelled his ash tray breath, and looked at the cunning in his eyes. This man was envied by other men. She despised him and everything he stood for.
She took a deep breath of resolve and swore to herself that she would not run from this man, and neither would she be used by this man. Maybe it was false courage caused by the crystals around her neck, but she decided to play out this evil man's game and see if she could best him. "No thanks," she murmored, "I must have just stood up too fast. You're very kind."
"Yeah, right, old and ugly but kind. It doesn't get me many dates. I have three Olympic investment parties to go to later this week, and I will be the only one without a date. Too bad too, because it would be a good opportunity for a woman to meet all sorts of very eligible men, including the entire hockey team."
"I'm sorry," she said, "did I, like, miss something? Are you trying asking me out? Like, you're as old as my father." She started to giggle and let her jiggle finish the sentence.
"Actually, that's not a bad idea," he said. "No, it wouldn't work unless you have some high-class clothes. You're not from a rich family are you?" He bounced his foot lightly against his brother's leg.
His brother was used to taking his cues. "You're such a defeatist, Murray. You're a nice guy, a polite guy. Take her to one of those designer shops on Robson and buy her some clothes. They'll know how make her look sophisticated."
"I could use some nice clothes," she said. "I'd like to hang with a better crowd, but, like, I don't have the clothes for it." She smiled at Murray. "So you are saying that if I go to how many, like three parties with you this week, you will buy me some nice clothes?"
"Yeah, you'll probably need three outfits," he replied, "because there will be a lot of the same people at each party."
"Nothing else," she said slowly. "Like, I go to the parties with you, and afterwards you drop me at my house." She looked him up and down. "I don't know. Why are my alarm bells going off?"
"Mine would be too, in your position. Tell you what. We grab a cab and hit the boutiques this afternoon with my credit card. If you decide at the last minute not to go, then the outfits won't have been worn, and I'll try to get my money back for them. That way you've got nothing to worry about, and even if it doesn't work out, we'll have big fun shopping."
"Wait a sec," she said, "let me think about it." She pressed her hands together like she was praying and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes she said, "Formal outfits are pretty expensive. Do you want to know what I thought you were going to ask me to do?"
"Tell me," he smiled. She was lovely, innocent, naive. He was close to winning his bet. He could feel it. Just take it slow and polite and patient. There was no urgency to ball her. She would be balling him soon enough, once she got greedy.
"It's embarrassing. I'll whisper it into your ear." She lifted her lips close to his ear like she was going to kiss it, and gently raised her hands as if she was going to caress his cheeks. She opened the lotus and put her hands under his jaw and he stopped. Everything that had been Murray, just stopped. He didn't even slump over much because his arm was trapped behind the bench.
Her own mind stayed crystal clear this time. "There is something wrong with your brother," she said to Larry as she pulled back from Murray. "Do you have a phone? Maybe you should call 911."
Larry looked at his brothe
r. He wasn't breathing. He must have had a heart attack. Did they work that fast? He pulled out his phone and dialed 911, and then hit 'cancel' and thought about it. Instead he hit speed dial. "Yeah, this is Larry." He loved call display. His staff knew it was him calling before they answered, which saved a lot of time with silly introductions. "Murray put in a big order to buy stocks this morning. How's that going? Two bucks too low, eh? Fill it from my stock. Yeah, all of it. Yeah I know it's three million. Just do it."
"Are you crazy?" gasped Maya, watching him on the phone, "he's not breathing! Call 911!"
Larry put his hand over the phone mike. "Aw, he's okay. He's um, whaddya call it, narcoleptic? It's a brain thing that makes him go instantly into deep sleeps."
"But, we were supposed to be going shopping for clothes." What she really wanted to do was to run away, but since he hadn't called 911 there was no hurry to get away yet, and running would just bring attention to her. She calmed herself, and convinced herself to stay cool.
"Yeah, I heard. Tell you what." He was thinking fast. He hung up the phone. He didn't want anyone to know Murray was dead until he unloaded as many shares as possible. Let the sheeple take the loss. His brother would have done the same.
He reached over and pulled Murray's wallet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He fished out half the bills and handed them to her. "You go and buy whatever you need for the parties, and then meet him here at the same time tomorrow. He should be better by then."
"You're sure?" she said stuffing the wad of cash into her bag.
"Go. He would be shamed if he knew you were watching him when he is like this."
She rode away on her bike, looking back. The brother was talking on the phone again. She kept wondering if Larry was a psychopath like his brother, or just a fauxpath, but she couldn't do anything about it, anyway. Two deaths of unknown causes would be way too suspicious.
Once she was out of the park and on a small street empty of people, she looked in her bag and counted the wad. One thousand five hundred and sixty-five bucks in cash, and that was only the front half of the wad that was in the guy's wallet. It was organized with the small bills in the front. Did people really walk around with that much cash on them? Duh, obviously.
