“You two, in here.” With the flick of her long, fleshy index finger, she commands us into action.
My heart leaps into my throat. I really didn’t think this through. What if she sees something I have no business knowing? For the first time in a long while, I’m glad I’m not alone.
Blindly, I reach for Brinn’s hand. Only when mine’s cradled in his do I stand.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Fearless?” he whispers in my ear. “Afraid to know what tomorrow holds?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” I suck it up and tug him toward the room.
After closing the sliding doors with another resounding boom, Madame Monica gestures for us to sit at the cushioned dining chairs, which flank the only other piece of furniture in the room. Cigarette burns scar the large round table and I wonder which the table has seen more of, dinner or the future. The lighting is low and has a yellowish glow.
“So we can do a tarot card reading, I can look at your palm, or I can try to get a spiritual reading. You can also have all three if you want. Who wants to go first?” Madame Monica lights an incense cone and waves the smoke around with her hand. She sits across the table and waits for us to answer.
“Him.” I point.
“Made you come, did she?” Madame Monica’s voice is rough from years of smoking. “I’ll make this as painless as possible for ya.” She grabs Brinn’s right hand and holds it in both of hers.
“For you, we’ll just try and get a simple reading. Just some basic questions, nothing more, and we’ll stay within the limits you’re comfortable. What’s your name?” She closes her eyes and massages her thumbs into his palm.
“Brinn.” He clears his throat.
“Brinn. Yes.” She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. She does this two more times. “Brinn,” she says. “It’s not been easy for you but you should be proud of yourself. Damn proud.” She opens her eyes and looks at him.
He shifts in his seat.
She continues, “There’ll be little you’ll not be able to overcome. But life will get much easier with the right partner.” She closes her eyes and takes in more deep breaths in the series of three.
Brinn gives me a sideways glance followed by a short-lived smirk.
“Brinn,” she says again as if we wouldn’t know who she is talking to if she doesn’t say his name. “You’re at a fork in the road. Both paths look appealing and rewarding. I see that you’re hoping to be able to do both and use one as a safety net.” She shakes her head. “But what you don’t see is that there is a third path, and if you can find your way to that path, you’ll find all of your dreams will come true. You’ve paid the price with your childhood and the rewards wait for you now. If you choose correctly.”
“Young Jedi.” I finish for her.
She opens her eyes and levels a stare at me. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you choose correctly, young Jedi.” I make my smile megawatt. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
Following the smallest of glares, she returns her attention to Brinn and his hand. “I see an office and on the wall are pictures. Pictures of lots of planes. I see your name on the door and no one else’s.” She gives him a twisted little smile, drops his hand and then pulls out her cigarette, takes a puff, and blows the smoke over her shoulder.
She leans toward him, squints, and says, “It’s OK to show the world what’s written on your heart. Oh, and happy birthday, son.” She squints, her way of smiling I suppose, and pats his hand three times.
I toss back my head and laugh. I couldn’t have scripted a better reading. Unable to resist, I grab his forearm, lean across, and kiss his cheek.
“That was wonderful. I swear I didn’t mention it to anyone that it’s your birthday. My turn, please. My name’s Josie.” I offer up my hand.
Madame Monica stares at me, clearly still displeased with my Jedi comment. Finally she picks up my hand and does the three-breath ritual, her thumbs digging into my palm.
She sits back. “Wow. So much. I’m not quite sure where to start with you because the question isn’t as obvious as it was for your friend.” Again with the breaths before she continues. “Time is irrelevant. You should not put off what is your heart’s truest desire because you think the timing isn’t right.” Madame Monica tilts her head and closes her eyes tighter. There is no sound but our breathing then the psychic sighs heavily and shakes her head.
“I’m sorry. I can’t pick one thing. There’s too much. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing to be worried about, but I’m unable to pinpoint down one specific area to get a good read.” She opens her eyes and stares at me. Inadvertently, I sit up straighter and think of my brother.
“Ah, there it is.” Madame Monica smiles. “This is your path. But know that things are not as they seem. Don’t be like...like a....” Madame Monica tilts her head. “Like a...bunny.” She pats my hand three times and lets go.
“A bunny?” Is she fucking kidding with this shit?
“Yes, a bunny. Rabbit.”
Brinn and I exchange a look. I’m about to ask Madame Monica for further explanation when she takes three long drags from her electric cigarette and blows them out in a puff of rings.
“That is, I think, about all you two can handle. Enjoy your birthday.” She gestures for us to get out.
We say our thanks and are at the door when she says, “And Josie, call your momma. All your questions could be answered. She’s no longer mad.”
“As if,” I say. “If that were true then she can call me.” I pivot and exit the room. After paying hipster doofus at the desk, I grab Brinn’s hand and we walk out.
Fifteen
Our hands fit together like meant-to-be-coupled puzzle pieces. Everything about being with this guy is easy. For the first time I wonder what staying in Daytona would look like.
“Want to walk the strip before we leave?” I gesture to the surrounding stores.
“Sure.” He shrugs.
With my other hand, I take a puff from my imaginary cigarette and raise one brow. “But which way? There’s a fork in the road but there are three paths.” He steers me toward the stores closest to us.
“Do you see anything in my future about bunnies?” He waves his hands in front of his face, pretending to whisk away the imaginary smoke.
I drop the act. “What the hell does that mean? Stop being a bunny? What a crock of shit.”
“Were you thinking of posing for Playboy?”
“No.” I let go of his hand to swat his arm. “Maybe it means I should stop having sex.” I purse my lips, trying to hold back the laughter.
“That’s just wrong.” He shakes his head emphatically. “She’s stupid. No one should ever stop having sex and certainly not you. Ever. And never stop having sex with me.”
“Maybe I’m going to use up all of my sex drive and ten years from now when I’ll really need it, I’ll be flat broke. Washed up. Dried up.” I try to sound panicky for added emphasis.
“I think she didn’t know what to say there at the end. She made that up.”