Part 23 (1/2)

”Whatever you say.” Joe reached out and touched the tip of my nose lightly. I shrank back instantly. That was something Jack did. ”I'll find you later. I still owe you that drink.”

The bathroom door closed. Then the music stopped abruptly and I heard Carmichael shouting, ”Everyone! The fortuneteller is here!”

The crowd made appreciative noises and headed toward the sound of his voice. Somebody took hold of my arms. It was Lily, her eyes too bright. I wondered if she'd been in the bathroom.

”Josie first!” she called, steering me through the crowd.

Carmichael, standing on a chair, saw us coming. ”Oh, absolutely,” he said, and then I found myself standing in front of a heavy woman with a hairy upper lip and ma.s.sive upper arms. She was wearing a sleeveless blouse and a long skirt; her dark, snapping eyes took in my garish costume and grew contemptuous.

”Ladies and gentlemen!” Carmichael cried. ”For your tarot-rific Halloween entertainment, my very own neighborhood storefront psychic-Madame Olinka!”

Madame Olinka was rummaging in an immense leather bag. She brought out a greasy deck of cards and began to shuffle them on a small table. Her chunky fingers were graceful as they deftly tapped the cards back into an even deck.

”Pay first,” she said.

Carmichael grimaced and took out his wallet.

”See?” he said as he counted out twenties and pointed to me. ”We've got our own Gypsy here.”

Madame Olinka looked at me. ”So I see.” I felt myself blush. She pointed to the chair that Carmichael had been standing on. ”Bring that chair. Sit down.”

”No,” I said.

But Lily was still at my back. She grabbed the chair, plunked it down inches from Madame Olinka's ma.s.sive knees, and pushed me into it. ”Get your fortune told. Maybe you'll learn something useful.”

Meanwhile, Madame Olinka had laid three greasy cards face-down between us. The pattern on the backs looked like stained gla.s.s, angular and cleanly drawn. She gestured at the cards. ”Frank Lloyd Wright tarot. Very modern.”

The crowd laughed and Carmichael said, ”Only the best for my parties, people!”

Madame Olinka shrugged. ”Modern world, modern tarot.” She bent over the cards with an air of great concentration. ”I do three-card spread.” Her English was unaccented and economical. ”First card tells the past-tells how you got here, to be where you are. Second tells where you are now, what you got to do to make things right, if they're not right; and if they are right, it tells you how to keep them that way. Third card tells about the future-but just possibilities,” she added, as an afterthought. ”Not what will be, necessarily, but what could be, if nothing you do changes. Future isn't in anybody's hands but your own.”

”Sure.” Somebody put another gla.s.s of wine into my field of vision. I looked up, thinking it must be Jack. Joe the chimney sweep winked down at me.

”Ask if there are going to be any tall dark strangers in your life tonight,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. It reeked of his cologne. Somewhere in the crowd gathered around us, I heard Lily laugh.

Madame Olinka's eyes flickered. ”I think there already is one, right?” Everybody laughed again. Where was Jack? ”First card,” she said and turned it over. The card showed the silhouette of a man framed by a stylized window. It was hard to tell whether he was part of the window or standing in front of it, because his body was cut into pieces like stained gla.s.s. ”The Hermit.”

”That's her, all right,” I heard Lily say.

The fortuneteller ignored her. ”There's a big difference between the outside world and the world inside your head. So you trying to make sense of things, and now, you got a better sense of time, what it do to you.”

”I do?” I said.

Madame Olinka shrugged. ”This card tells where you come from. Seems to me you got a nasty shock sometime, things aren't what you expected. Now, next card, you see, is the devil.” The card showed a woman wearing a long black dress standing on a white hill against a deep blue sky.

”The devil is a woman?” I said.

”Is she ever,” Joe said from behind me and squeezed my shoulders. I tried to shrug him away, but when his hands left my shoulders they moved to my hair.

”Sometimes she is.” Madame Olinka looked at the cards. ”Not so bad. Sounds worse than it is. You surrounded by bad feelings right now. All it means is, you got to be careful. You got to try and think clearly. Don't get all caught up in plans and schemes. Logic, right? Logic is what the devil likes most. You stay away, think with your heart. But,” and she pointed a warning finger at me, ”this all going on right now. You don't make a choice now, you maybe never get a chance to choose again.”

”Choose what?” I said.

”Choose what you gonna do.” She sounded a little exasperated. ”Choose whether you gonna believe those bad feelings swirling around you like smoke, or you gonna see the world the way it is.” Madame Olinka's eyes flickered up to the crowd and she s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in her chair.

”Lots of people here,” she muttered. ”More than I thought. Got to hurry. Last card now.”

The last card she turned up showed a circle cut into pieces like a pie. The letters under the picture said ”Wheel of Fortune.” Madame Olinka, unsmiling, tapped the card. ”But there you go. No matter what you do, things gonna be okay. You gonna end up with no worries and no tears and no questions.”

”Sounds like death,” I said.

Madame Olinka sat back in her chair, losing interest. ”What I tell you. Tarot doesn't tell the future. Could be death. Or could be happiness.”

”My turn,” a pink pixie said. I moved quickly to let her sit down. When I stood up, Joe's arm was across my shoulder. I stepped away quickly.

Lily appeared in front of me. ”Solve all your problems?” Her blackish lips were curled slightly, and her eyes glittered with that feral look again.

”Sure. Lily, have you seen Jack?”

She was staring, distracted, into the crowd. ”He's around. I'll go find him for you.” She vanished, leaving me standing stupidly, holding the wine that Joe had given me. For want of anything better to do, I took a sip.

”There you are,” Joe's voice said from behind me, and I felt his arm snake around my waist. ”How's that wine?”

The party had lost focus. Where was my brother? I moved through the crowd like a ghost. Every face I saw was a stranger's. None of them was Jack. I wanted to go home.

Then I was in the hallway outside the apartment. Carmichael was at one shoulder, Joe at the other. They were holding me up.

”Where are we going?” I said. My tongue felt foreign in my mouth and the walls around me wouldn't stay where they belonged. The men carried me down a flight of stairs. My feet didn't touch the steps.

”Joe's place,” Carmichael said. We went through a door and Joe fumbled with keys. ”You drank too much. You need to lie down.”

”Where's my brother?” They carried me through a door and I felt myself fall onto a big, soft bed. I could feel the smooth cotton bedspread under my hand.

”He's upstairs,” Joe said. I heard the sound of a zipper. One of my boots was gone. Then the other. ”He knows you're here. It's okay.”

”He told us to bring you down here,” Carmichael said from somewhere above my head.

”Where-where is he?” The room was spinning.

”He knows you're with us,” Joe said. ”It's okay.”

My limbs were leaden as the two men lifted my arms and pulled my blouse over my head.

”Jack,” I heard myself mumble. I was s.h.i.+vering.

”Jack says it's okay,” Joe said gently. ”Don't worry about Jack.”