give me an
appraising look, then nodded. "You're very young for a mambo."
"In age but not for the length of time I've spent preparing and the
Asogwe I've had for a mentor and teacher."
She nodded, evaluating me against some criteria.
"Yes, like most professions, it's not age but talent that determines
a person's worth. I wouldn't normally go to a fortuneteller, since I think most
are...entertainers selling us what we all want—to know the future. But you
come highly recommended." She produced a hundred dollar bill and handed it
to me. "This is yours unconditionally whether you're an entertainer or
real." She held up her hand to stop me from replying, although I hadn't
intended to say anything. "I know you can't say you're an entertainer
without ruining your business, but I would rather not waste my time hearing
stories. So I'll leave and say nothing, unless you tell me not to.
I couldn't help but wonder what a fake would do now. Would she let the
woman walk out the door or would she try to convince her she wasn't? Worse yet,
what should I do? I'm walking through a mine field with Ken and Sheila sniffing
around. Oh, shit! I pointed to the
table.
"There are many possible futures. I can only tell you the one I see." There that should do it for a real or
fake fortuneteller.
"That's very clever. That works for both," Ellen said,
repeating my thoughts. But she proceeded to the table and sat. "All right,
I'll play."
"Please place your hands on the table, palms down." When she
did, I sat placing mine over hers. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say
anything. I sat watching the days spin by. Ellen worked in an office, with a
door, good furniture, and a window with a view of New Orleans, which meant she
worked in the business district. She also lived in a very expensive apartment.
No accidents occurred, nothing seemed wrong at work, but she seemed to be upset
at almost random times. Then it clicked—she was being stalked.
"I can't tell who, I can only see you, and nothing will happen over
the next several weeks." I said, deep in thought about what I had seen,
and how it had affected her. When she jerked her hands free of mine, I snapped
back to the present.
"You saw! Tell me more!"
"I'm sorry. I can't affect what I see. I see what I see." I'd
had probably said too much already. I wanted to help, but too much would get me
noticed by the wrong people. I didn't think Ellen was associated with Ken or Sheila's
crowd based on what I saw, but... Ellen sat quietly staring at me with those
beautiful green eyes, her hands folded just under her chin.
"How long...safe?"
"Four weeks," I said, thinking I had seen at least six to seven
weeks out.
"If you’re a fake, you're good. But I can't take the chance you
aren't." She rose deep in thought, trance-like, and headed for the door.
There she stopped with the door open. "Make me another appointment for
four weeks from today."
After she left, I sat thinking for the hundredth time that I needed a set
of rules or guidelines for fortunetelling. I wanted to help people with my gift,
but I didn't want it misused. Maybe fortunetelling wouldn't be too bad if I
could convince people I didn't see everything. It was the ability to change the
future that would be the real problem. I needed rules, but I couldn't write
them down because of Ken and others poking around. Just when I thought I was
getting my life back on track, Hector, Locos, Ken, Sheila, and who knew what
else were threatening to derail it.
* * *
The following week, Hector entered my shop as I opened, which confirmed
once again that my life had gotten complicated.
"Mambo Renee," he said placing a hundred dollar bill on my
counter, "You saved the Locos. You bad...powerful mambo. If you need
anything, the Locos will help."
I hoped he wasn't going to spread that around--Locos helping me! The
residents would probably run me out of town. I didn't want to be friends with
the Locos, just to keep them from hurting me. And if he spreads
appraising look, then nodded. "You're very young for a mambo."
"In age but not for the length of time I've spent preparing and the
Asogwe I've had for a mentor and teacher."
She nodded, evaluating me against some criteria.
"Yes, like most professions, it's not age but talent that determines
a person's worth. I wouldn't normally go to a fortuneteller, since I think most
are...entertainers selling us what we all want—to know the future. But you
come highly recommended." She produced a hundred dollar bill and handed it
to me. "This is yours unconditionally whether you're an entertainer or
real." She held up her hand to stop me from replying, although I hadn't
intended to say anything. "I know you can't say you're an entertainer
without ruining your business, but I would rather not waste my time hearing
stories. So I'll leave and say nothing, unless you tell me not to.
I couldn't help but wonder what a fake would do now. Would she let the
woman walk out the door or would she try to convince her she wasn't? Worse yet,
what should I do? I'm walking through a mine field with Ken and Sheila sniffing
around. Oh, shit! I pointed to the
table.
"There are many possible futures. I can only tell you the one I see." There that should do it for a real or
fake fortuneteller.
"That's very clever. That works for both," Ellen said,
repeating my thoughts. But she proceeded to the table and sat. "All right,
I'll play."
"Please place your hands on the table, palms down." When she
did, I sat placing mine over hers. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say
anything. I sat watching the days spin by. Ellen worked in an office, with a
door, good furniture, and a window with a view of New Orleans, which meant she
worked in the business district. She also lived in a very expensive apartment.
No accidents occurred, nothing seemed wrong at work, but she seemed to be upset
at almost random times. Then it clicked—she was being stalked.
"I can't tell who, I can only see you, and nothing will happen over
the next several weeks." I said, deep in thought about what I had seen,
and how it had affected her. When she jerked her hands free of mine, I snapped
back to the present.
"You saw! Tell me more!"
"I'm sorry. I can't affect what I see. I see what I see." I'd
had probably said too much already. I wanted to help, but too much would get me
noticed by the wrong people. I didn't think Ellen was associated with Ken or Sheila's
crowd based on what I saw, but... Ellen sat quietly staring at me with those
beautiful green eyes, her hands folded just under her chin.
"How long...safe?"
"Four weeks," I said, thinking I had seen at least six to seven
weeks out.
"If you’re a fake, you're good. But I can't take the chance you
aren't." She rose deep in thought, trance-like, and headed for the door.
There she stopped with the door open. "Make me another appointment for
four weeks from today."
After she left, I sat thinking for the hundredth time that I needed a set
of rules or guidelines for fortunetelling. I wanted to help people with my gift,
but I didn't want it misused. Maybe fortunetelling wouldn't be too bad if I
could convince people I didn't see everything. It was the ability to change the
future that would be the real problem. I needed rules, but I couldn't write
them down because of Ken and others poking around. Just when I thought I was
getting my life back on track, Hector, Locos, Ken, Sheila, and who knew what
else were threatening to derail it.
* * *
The following week, Hector entered my shop as I opened, which confirmed
once again that my life had gotten complicated.
"Mambo Renee," he said placing a hundred dollar bill on my
counter, "You saved the Locos. You bad...powerful mambo. If you need
anything, the Locos will help."
I hoped he wasn't going to spread that around--Locos helping me! The
residents would probably run me out of town. I didn't want to be friends with
the Locos, just to keep them from hurting me. And if he spreads
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