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I ignore his outburst and continue reading. “It says she took his death hard, especially after escaping New York City just a few years prior. She said ‘New York chewed up my parents and spitusout.’”
“Sounds dark.”
“Says she’s had a string of odd jobs up until about five years ago when she started the psychic business. Fortune telling, palm reading, reading tea leaves, et cetera.” I let out a sigh because even I’m not sure I’m buying what she’s selling.
“Andthatkeeps her lights on? Yeah, I call bullshit.”
“I’m just reading what’s here, Vince.”
“Well, I don’t buy it.”
“You can call her on it when you meet her.”
“What the fuck kind of name is Scarlett Stone anyway? She sounds like she ripped the name off a seventies pornstar. What’s her real name?”
I look through a few more of the papers, curious if maybe Vince was right and Scarlett Stone was just an alias. “I don’t see anything about a birth name.”
He pulls off the exit and we spend the rest of the ride in silence. It isn’t until what feels like fourteen different turns that we find ourselves in front of her alleged house. I was expecting something much creepier and more rundown, but the “shack” is actually just a small one-story house that isn’t in terrible shape. I follow Vince down the path towards the front door, ignoring the leaves that haven’t been raked or the weeds that are in desperate need of whacking.
“She needs a gardener.”
“I doubt that’s a luxury she can afford, Vince.” I roll my eyes and knock on her front door.
“Who’s there?” a voice calls from inside. It’s higher pitched than I expected with an undeniable New York accent.
“Ummm, I’m Lauren Michaels, we uhh…work for NBC?”
“Not interested.” Her voice has gone down several octaves, coming out more stern than before.
“We’ve heard all about you. We were hoping we could have our fortunes told? And maybe a palm reading?”
Vince coughs and shakes his head before whispering. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to pay this dingbat to hold my hand and tell me I have mommy issues and I hate my sister. But chin up, old sport, in New Year you’ll keep your health and find wealth if you only believe in yourself,” he says sarcastically.
“Mommy issues.” I slap my forehead dramatically. “Of course. It all makes sense.”
“Fuck off,” he mouths and I give him my middle finger in response.
“It’s forty for the palm read, sixty for both.”
“Fuck that!” Vince whispers, though I’m sure the woman on the other side heard it loud and clear.
“And you calledmepoor earlier? Loosen the purse strings, Maddox.”
He snorts. “This is bullshit.”
“We need the story.”
“Not for a hundred and twenty bucks.”
“Fine, I’ll just do it. But you’re coming in just in case she tries to use me as a sacrifice to a demon.”
“I’ll let her take you,” he mumbles under his breath just as the door opens.
I shoot him a glare before turning back to the woman at the door who can’t be but a few inches over four feet tall. Round glasses sit in front of bright blue eyes and on top of a button nose. Her long graying hair is almost to her knees and she has it pulled back with a bandana. She’s wearing a kimono, an actual kimono, with Ugg boots that look like they’ve been through hell and back.
Wow, she’s like a caricature of a fortune teller.
She sizes us up and down the same way, probably noting my heels that I definitely should have changed and my cashmere coat as well as Vince’s attire. “How far did you come to see me?”
