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I need to rule out that this isn't just a cramp. My hand on my chest, I take another step forward, and it feels as if I'm swimming upstream. It's downright difficult, and every bit of my body feels terrible. It's like the worst flu I've ever had, even as I wheeze for breath. I pause, no longer pushing ahead, and then turn and walk back a few steps, toward the cafe and toward Kassam.
Immediately, the crushing feeling eases.
I pause, turn around, and walk a step away from Kassam. The pain returns, hard and heavy and awful.
Whatever it is that's going on, it isn't my imagination. I stagger backward a few steps, and when immediate relief hits, I walk back to the cafe. With every step I cover, the pain ebbs, but my anxiety increases. How do I fight this? How do I break free from a man that's suddenly trapped me to his side with good sex and a disarming smile? A man that has said, quite pointedly, that for him to go home, I have to die?
Suddenly the entire last day is taking on a sinister tinge. I think of Kassam in the alley, his hand extended out to me. I think of the constant mental fog I have around him. Of how he can make me come just with the blink of an eye.
How he can get whatever he wants from me with just a few touches and a gentle word. I've been playing right along with him, too, dazzled by his attractive face and gorgeous body and the sex appeal that oozes off of him. He's the pied piper of pussy all right, and I've been dancing to his tune.
No longer. Hearing that Kassam needs me dead is a real eye-opener. I have to figure a way out of this, somehow, because I am not about to give my life up for a pretty smile and a man that doesn't know how to wash his own hands.
Determined, I march back to the cafe and pause in the doorway. Kassam is seated atop the counter, his bare feet dangling as he eats cookies straight from the case. The barista watches him with an adoring expression, and the others sip their coffees and look on as if he's some sort of celebrity…or messiah. At least they're no longer diddling themselves. Or each other. I step inside, heading for the counter, and behind it, I see a few bodies writhing in what can only be an orgy.
Spoke too soon.
Kassam smiles at me, his expression utterly delighted. "You are back, my light. Did you…get what you needed?" His expression is both apologetic and casual, as if he knows it sucks, but he doesn't care all that much. As if to make up for this, he holds a cookie out to me. "Cookie?"
I…need more crystals, I realize. Lots more. I gesture toward the door. "Come on, Kassam. We're leaving."
"Where are we going?" he asks, as if he knows the streets of Chicago himself.
"Does it matter? This is all new to you." I put another twenty on the counter, hoping that covers at least a few of the cookies he's scarfed down, and then grab him by the arm. "If you must know, we're heading to my mom's shop."
"Her shop?" His face brightens. "Your mother is nearby? I should enjoy meeting her. Is she as beautiful as you?"
I look at the adoring people around us. Oh fuck. I can't just introduce him to my mom cold turkey. I whip out my phone and text.
* * *
CARLY: Mom, I will be there in 20 with a friend.
CARLY: Wear all the quartz you've got. You're going to need it. XOXO
7
For as long as I can remember, my mom's had her little psychic shop tucked away in downtown Chicago. It's little more than the size of a closet, with a sky-high rent for an old, outdated shop in an equally old, outdated building, but somehow my mom makes it work. Fortunes and Futures manages to pull in people despite the hokey name, the equally hokey beads and neon signs that hang in the tiny window, and the fact that it's probably all crap to some degree. I've never believed, much to my mother's chagrin.
Today, though? I'm willing to believe.
Even getting over to the shop today was an adventure. By the time we got back to my apartment building, Kassam and I had people following us. I wanted to go upstairs and grab a few things from my place, but I didn't trust the weirdos not to follow us to my door. Instead, I headed straight for the parking garage, got in my car, dumped all my abandoned crafting stuff out of the passenger seat so Kassam could sit down, and drove over to my mom's shop. In the car, I cringed every time we made a traffic stop, wondering if someone was going to try to jump in, or if other drivers would be pulled in by Kassam's magnetic presence through their cars and we'd somehow end up with a caravan over to my mom's store.
