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Luna rolled her eyes. “She isn’t here for any of that, Tillie.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Tillie leaned forward, her face dead serious as she spoke in a whisper. “She’s a fortune teller. But not one of those scammer ones. She’s the real deal. I get chills just thinking about it.”
She rubbed her arms, and Luna bobbed her foot up and down in annoyance. “You’re going to scare the poor girl off before she even gets to know us.”
“Says the girl who brought her here for the circle.” Tillie laughs.
I looked at Luna in question. “Circle?”
“It’s a fire circle,” she explained. “I thought maybe you’d like to see it. Every month or so, we come together for this.”
“Speaking of,” Tillie cut in. “We should go get ready. Are you going to have her dance too?”
Luna offered me a mischievous look. “You can’t call yourself a gypsy if you don’t learn how to dance.”
The idea of dancing for anyone was the last thing I’d ever entertain, but as I watched the people come together around the fire and prepare for whatever was about to take place, I couldn’t say I wasn’t tempted. For as long as I could remember, I’d wanted to know my culture, and this was my chance. I just didn’t know if I had it in me to be a real gypsy.
“Just come and get ready with us,” Luna said. “Then you can decide.”
I followed her to her trailer, and she gave me the grand tour in about two minutes flat. “That’s the bedroom.” She pointed at a small space where her mattress was crammed. “Kitchen. Bathroom. And that’s it really.”
“It’s cute,” I said, and I meant it.
She had done a lot with only a little space. There were vibrant colors everywhere, and it was clean and homey. I wasn’t one to deny my affinity for creature comforts, but there was something to be said for a space that was as warm and comfortable as this one.
“It’s mine.” Luna smiled proudly. “Bought it with my own money, and there’s no greater feeling than that.”
I smiled back, but it was tinged with guilt.
“Here.” She opened a chest and pulled out a gold outfit that looked like it was straight out of a Vegas showgirl’s wardrobe. “This would look amazing on you.”
I eyed the three-piece costume that consisted of a bedazzled skirt, coin belt, and bra. Heat crawled up my neck when I thought about exposing that much skin. It was an instinctual reaction, a product of a childhood where I was the star of every man’s sick fantasy.
Before I could say no, Luna was in front of me, her brows pinched together in concern. Without a word, she took my hands in hers, as if she were trying to read me. “You don’t have to be nervous. This isn’t for anyone else but you.”
“I don’t think I should,” I said politely as I pulled away.
“You have no reason to be ashamed of anything,” she said. “This isn’t about displaying your body. It’s about your femininity. Your beauty. Your mystery. All the things that make you who you are.”
I looked at the costume again, heat flaming my cheeks. When she put it that way, it seemed silly that I would make it out to be anything else. I knew my mother loved to dance. I remembered watching her, mesmerized by the way she was able to maneuver her hips. It seemed magical to me, and I tried it many times on my own after she died, desperately longing to feel a connection with her.
“I never learned the dances,” I admitted.
“You don’t need to know anything,” Luna said. “Just let yourself feel. You are a gypsy. Trust me, you can dance.”
Tillie entered from the kitchen, carrying three shots on a tray. “And failing all of that, you can do what the rest of us do. It’s called liquid courage.”
I took the shot glass, not for the courage to dance, but for the courage to believe that I could have any other life than the one I had known. Since I’d been free from Ricky, I thought I’d only ever done things because I wanted to. But the truth was that I didn’t know any other way. I never learned my culture because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t get me what I wanted or needed. I knew how to survive, but I didn’t know how to enjoy the simple things in life like Luna.
I would probably never be as free spirited as she was, but starting tonight, maybe I could learn. Maybe life could be something else for me. Something more than the next con, the thrill of chasing the dollar, or the past constantly nipping at my heels.
I set the shot glass down and gestured for the costume. “I’ll try it on. No promises.”
