CHAPTER EIGHT
Starlet
Soft lighting, candles, and jasmine incense create the perfect ambience in my work space. I’ve been in Shreveport for a week and welcome my last client for the day, Natalie Dresher. She’s middle-aged and obviously wealthy, her clothes and makeup perfect. She offers her hand as I stand up.
“No matter what you see in the cards, sweetheart, just tell me the truth.”
“Please, sit.” I wave at one of the plush guest chairs across from my seat at the table. “Rest assured, I always reveal whatever I see. Nothing is finite here, Natalie. That’s why you’re here, right? To see if you can change your fate?”
Natalie crosses her legs and sighs. “Perhaps to prevent the inevitable from occurring is a better way to express it.”
“You’re married?”
“Twenty years.”
“Is he … faithful?”
“Define faithful,” she chuckles. “Men are what they are. As long as he leaves his heart at home…”
Without a word, I flip the first card from my goddess tarot deck over. Strength through the goddess Oya. “You have the strength to bring peace between opposing forces,” I say, glancing up at her, waiting to see how she’ll react. “There is another woman of some sort.”
Her dark eyes narrow. “Of some sort,” she repeats. “What else do your little cards say?”
I turn over another card—power through the goddess Freyja. “You use power wisely. At least you try to.” Half of my abilities are based on intuition, not the images in front of me. The cards serve as a compass, but I have a unique ability to sense things about people, to feel their emotions. “His mother,” I say, discovering my misguided interpretation of another woman. “She’s extremely combative, jealous even.”
“Dear Lord,” Natalie comments, sinking deeper into her chair. “How did you do that?”
I shrug, never one to discuss how I do what I do. “You control the money. The property. But your husband—his family—has the old respected name. You’re not from Louisiana. I see Idaho—Montana. You grew up on a ranch.”
“I did.”
“You worked very hard as a girl…” I reveal the next card. “The five of cups. Disappointment and sadness. One of your parents died when you were a teenager. You were forced to quit school.”
“Yes … that’s how I met my husband, his father came to Montana to buy horses. You’re very perceptive, Sarah. Extremely so.” She gazes at me, shifting in her chair, maybe a bit uncomfortable with what I can see.
“His parents disapproved of your relationship. You were separated for a long time. But everything changed after your family gained wealth.” Though I can’t exactly imagine why her financial circumstances changed so drastically, I can feel the energy, the pride inside her.
“Yes, oil was discovered on our property, a lot of it.”
“Don’t let old history interfere with your future happiness,” I advise. “What is your husband’s name?”
“Dale.”
“Dale loves you, Natalie.” I flip the next card—the princess of cups. “He sees you for the girl you were.”
“But his mother…”
“She needs her own accommodations. The longer she stays in your house, the deeper the rift between you and your husband.” The next card only amplifies my warning. “The ace of swords shows victory, Natalie, in its purest form. But only if you take decisive action. Follow this path and everything else will work out.”
“My health?”
I set my deck aside and reach for Natalie’s hand. I run my fingertips over her palm, her hand is warm and smooth to the touch. “Nothing of consequence. Stress management is your biggest challenge. Take those long walks again. Together.”
Natalie tugs her hand from my grasp. “Jesus,” she whispers, examining her own palm as if she’s going to find more answers in the intricate pattern of lines. “You sure know how to make someone uncomfortable.” She looks up at me. “But you’re one hundred percent right. I’ve put my mother-in-law’s needs before my own for too long. As a result, my marriage is suffering, I’m suffering.” She opens her leather clutch and pulls out a fifty-dollar bill and places it on the table. “Anyone from Shreveport knows the Dresher name. I expect complete discretion if we’re going to see each other on a regular basis, Sarah. And if you keep my confidence, I’ll recommend you to dozens of friends who will take care of you.”
I stare at the fifty, grateful for the tip, in desperate need of the money. “Whatever we say to each other in this room stays here, Natalie. You have my word.”
“For some reason, I believe you, Sarah. There’s something about you.”
“Trust is earned,” I say and slide the money back toward her. “If everything works out, please make another appointment.”
Natalie stands and stashes the money back in her purse. “Okay. Let’s test your theory.”
I watch as she leaves the shop, suddenly exhausted from the emotional drain I experienced working with her. I walk into the main part of the store and wait for Juanita to finish ringing up a purchase for her only customer. Once she finishes, I give her a sad smile.
“Hard day at the office?” she asks, walking around the counter.
“Want to go out for dinner?”
“Sure? What do you have in mind?”
“Authentic Mexican food.”
“Great choice. I know the perfect place.”
I glance at the wall clock. The shop closes in thirty minutes. “Meet you out back in an hour?”
“Sure thing.”
Though I don’t need another shower, I’m in the mood to take a relaxing soak in that big garden tub. I head to my room, thinking about what dress to wear on my date with my best friend.
An hour later, Juanita turns into the parking lot of Casa Sanchez. It’s a combination bar-restaurant, and packed for six o’clock on a Thursday night. We wait in line for the hostess to take our names.
“Welcome to Casa Sanchez,” the teenager greets us. “How many people are in your party?”
“Two,” I answer.
“Would you like a table? Or do you prefer a booth in the bar?”
“Margaritas,” Juanita whispers in my ear. “Big ones.”
I laugh. “The bar, please.”
“This way.” The hostess grabs two menus and leads the way to the bar.
There’s seven big screens in the open space, all tuned in on different sports. Football and basketball memorabilia, mostly from local high school teams and New Orleans decorate the walls. Skeletal looking black ceiling fans whip up a cool breeze overhead, and stained-glass lamps hang over every table. We’re seated at the only available booth in the back corner, away from all the noise.
“You like crowds,” I observe, sliding onto my bench.
“After living in silence for so long,” Juanita says, “yeah, a little chaos feeds my soul. What about you? How do you feel about joining the human race again?”
I really don’t know. I’ve lived mechanically for so long, getting up at the same time every day, doing whatever Sammy expected, prepared dinner, cleaned the kitchen, took a shower, waited in bed for my husband, fucked him, then went to sleep. “It feels strange.”
“I bet it does.” She pats my hand and then opens her menu. “The carne guisada is so good here.”
A waitress approaches the table and sets two glasses of ice water in front of us. “Welcome to Casa Sanchez. I’m Amber, your server for the evening. What can I get you ladies to drink?”
Juanita throws me an I-got-this look. “Two pomegranate margaritas with two shots of Tequila on the side.”
“Be right back,” the server says and ambles off in the direction of the bar.
“Jesus, Juanita, are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Yep.” She smiles. “And then I’m going to take advantage of you.”
“Does Joseph have a brother?”
She takes a sip of water. “Three sisters.”
“How unfortunate for me.” I open my menu and scan the extensive list of entrées. Everything looks delicious. “How do you feel about a fajita feast for two?”
“Hmm. I had my heart set on carne guisada tacos.”
“We’ll order those, too.”
“What kind of fajitas? Chicken, beef, or fish?”
“Beef.”
“What about a combo of fish and beef?” she asks.
“Done.”
The server returns with our drinks. “Are you ready to order?”
“We’d like the combo fajita feast for two—beef and fish, an order of carne guisada soft tacos, and a side order of tamales.”
After the server leaves, I test the margarita. It’s so sweet and refreshing—I finish it in record time.
“Making up for lost time?”
“Maybe.”
Juanita drapes her arm over the back of her seat and gestures at a nearby table with her head.
“What?”
“Hot and bothered, three o’clock.”
I take a quick peek at the four men occupying the nearest table. Several pitchers of beer and a mountain of nachos clutter the tabletop. One of them is staring at me.
“See,” Juanita says. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
I cross my eyes at him and look at Juanita again. “I am completely unavailable. Especially to a guy like that.”
“Starlet, he’s hot and young.”
“Yeah—too young.”
“He’s your age.”
“That’s my point.”
Juanita shakes her head and swallows her shot of Tequila. “You’ve been dick-deprived for too long.”
“Sammy was the quintessential dick.”
She rolls her eyes. “You mean he was a dick head.” She gazes over at the table again. “That’s the kind of dick you need for a night or two.”
Her words spark a serious flashback—a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, Brick fucking me stupid. I wiggle in my seat, heat whipping up my body.
“Are you okay?” Juanita’s concerned tone breaks the spell.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re beet-red, and too young for hot flashes.”
I think of a quick excuse. “That margarita was strong.”
“Want another one?” a stranger asks.
The guy from the table is standing next to me, hovering really. I meet his intense gaze.
“I’m Charles.” He extends his hand.
Not wanting to be rude, I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Charles. I’m Sarah, and this is my friend Juanita.”
“Can I buy the next round?” he asks.
Juanita shakes the ice in her glass. “Sure thing, Charles.” His name rolls off her tongue in such a flirtatious manner I can’t stop laughing.
“Why don’t the two of you join my table?”
“Sorry, Charlie,” I say. “Girl’s night out. But it was nice to meet you.” I know I’m coming off too bitchy, but I’m not into college jocks. “Maybe next time.”
He slowly walks away, and I can hear his friends giving him a hard time for getting shut down.
“Ouch,” Juanita says. “I think you just destroyed that man’s self-esteem.”
“Old Charlie’s? That guy probably gets pussy whenever he wants it.” Just like Brick. Austin, the most perfect man I’ve ever known. Perfect because he went away the next day, no strings attached.
“Better clear a spot for the plates. The food is ready.”
I look up just in time to see a server with a sizzling pan piled high with fajitas and sautéed vegetables. It pops and hisses as he sets it down. Our regular server is close behind, carrying a tray containing our fresh tortillas, beans, rice, and the rest of our food. I lick my lips as I admire the feast. Food is one of the joys in life. And Juanita. That girl makes me smile so much my face hurts.
She lifts her ice water. “To us.”
I tap her glass with mine. “Cheers.”