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CHAPTER 8
∞∞∞
“Give her your hand,” I say as O moves over to a stool in the booth of a fortune teller. The fortune teller is dressed up like a gypsy, or maybe that’s just how she normally looks. O gives me a disapproving look before he sits down on a plush, purple stool and gives his hand to the fortune teller.
She takes it in her hand while her bracelets dangle with a jingling sound. She makes some hand gestures over his hand, and I wonder if she’s trying to perform some kind of magic trick. I’m glad I managed to get O to go first. I needed to convince him the most to get his fortune told. He’s a total non-believer and he made some good arguments on not spending any money on it, but I’m way more stubborn than he is or ever will be, so here we are, getting his fortune told.
The fortune teller tries to make a show out of it. She’s not the best I’ve ever been to, but she isn’t the worst either by far. One time I went to a fair where the fortune teller had set up all kinds of special effects that backfired on her while she was telling me I would have triplets by the end of the year. She had installed something to make the table move but all it did was buzz and send off electric sparks. Then she knocked over a glass of water and the table started to smoke. It matched the fumes that were coming out of my then boyfriend’s ears at the mention of triplets. We were nineteen years old and kids would have been a terrible idea. After visiting that fortune teller I spent a long time figuring out why the hell she needed a moving table to tell fortunes. My best guess was she held fake seances in her spare time or something like that. So no, the gestures and show this fortune teller is making and giving aren’t the worst by far. It actually looks kind of believable.
“I see a bright future for you. But there’s also darkness. You must choose the path to the light and stay true to your most secret intentions. Also, don’t pick the purple potato.”
Well, perhaps her fortune was the worst I’ve ever heard. Don’t pick the purple potato? What the hell lady? Jonah chuckles behind me as O gives the fortune teller a death glare.
“No purple spuds for O,” Jonah says, and the fortune teller nods fervently. He sits down on the vacated stool that O has stood up from and puts down a five-dollar bill. It really is a bargain to know what the future has in store for you. Especially when given solid advice to not pick the purple potato. The fortune teller picks up the bill and sticks it in her cleavage while she takes Jonah’s hand in hers and starts the show all over again. She’s humming a little this time, which I think is a nice touch. She opens her eyes in shock and before she can tell him why, he gives her the same, scared look while his eyes open wide.
“Don’t tell me, it must be bad! I can feel it in my bones.”
Gil’s trying to hold in his laugh beside me, while he looks at what is happening at the table.
“It is. It’s very bad.” She’s almost giving herself whiplash, nodding so hard. “My boy, someone from your past is going to catch up with you and someone will lose their head.”
Dean scoffs while Jonah plays along with it.
“Can you tell me how to prevent this?” he asks with a horrid look on his face.
“The future holds its cards close,” she answers very earnestly. “But for another consult I might be able to persuade them to tell me more.”
This is the point where O turns around and just leaves the tent while he mumbles something about this being an obvious scam, and not wanting to take part in it.
“I’m all out of money lady, please tell me more.”
She eyes him lustfully. “No money, no fortune. But if you meet me behind the tent in five, I’ll see what I can do.”
I just start laughing out loud when I hear that.
“Good try lady,” Jonah says to the fortune teller. “But this is where your luck ends. I’ll just have to face this person of my past and be careful to keep my head attached.”
The fortune teller shrugs and says it was worth a try as she looks at me with a knowing look. It makes me laugh even harder.
When we step out of the fortune teller’s tent, we walk straight into O’s back as he stands in front of the entrance. His body is tense, and we bounce right off of him when we bump into him.
“What the hell?”
He turns around and looks at all the guys individually while he manages to avoid looking at me. “I just saw someone who looks exactly like Celia.”
“No way,” Dean answers while he starts to frantically look around.
“You sure?” Jonah asks as he stands on his tiptoes to look over the crowd that’s all around us.
“Like eighty percent sure. She was dressed up in a purple dress and she looked like she was wearing a wig.” Oddly enough, that describes almost a quarter of the numerous people that are here.
“She was at Tempest last week. If she’s actually following us it isn’t such a stretch for her to be here,” Jonah concludes while he keeps watching the people all around us vigilantly.
So she was at Tempest last time we were there? The confirmation she was actually there when the guys got spooked and left was news to me. I was being kept way out of the loop when it came to Celia, which was to be expected, because I had nothing to do with this chick, but I just wanted to know anyway. Was I supposed to be worried about this? The guys seemed to be.
“Should we go look for her?” I suggest while trying to figure out if I want to involve myself into whatever this mess is. O looks at the guys and it takes a while for him to slowly shake his head. He takes a deep breath and some of the tightness in his body seems to fade. I’m worried about him.
“It’s probably useless to go looking for her. There’s too many people here and I don’t actually want to find her.”
