Illegal Fortunes

by Sabrina Stark

  I gave them my sweetest smile. "Actually, she is," I said. "Thanks for asking."

  He glared down at me. "I wasn't talking to you."

  By now Cat was glaring at me too. She pointed to the empty seat next to me. "I'm not sitting there," she told Russell.

  I glanced at the empty seat and then back at them. "Don't tell me," I groaned. "You're assigned to this table too?"

  "Not anymore we're not," Russell said. "Come on Cat, we'll find us someplace better."

  Ignoring Russell, Cat reached out and snatched the wine glass out of my hand. Before I could process what she was doing, she made the classic wine-toss move, looking to splash me in the face. But when she did, nothing happened. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked down.

  "Oops," I said. "I guess I drank it all."

  "You bitch!" she said in a loud whisper that carried across the room.

  "Sorry."

  Just then, Conrad appeared at my side. "What's going on?" he asked.

  I pointed at Cat. "She stole my wine."

  "I did not!" Cat said. "You liar! It was already empty."

  Russell cleared his throat. "Come on, honey," he said, gripping Cat by the elbow. "Let's find us a better seat."

  She yanked her arm away. "Don't honey me!" she said. "You knew she'd be here, didn't you?"

  "How would I know," he said.

  "Because you're a horndog, that's why."

  I turned to Conrad. "It's true," I said. "He is a horndog."

  Cat whirled to face me. "Who asked you?"

  I blinked up at her. "Jus' trying to help," I said.

  From the other side of the room, I saw a couple of bouncer-looking types making their way toward us. Russell turned and followed my gaze.

  He gave Cat's arm a hard yank, and she reluctantly followed after him. After a lot of shifting and chair dragging, they finally settled in at a large table near the podium.

  The room was still way too quiet. I looked to Conrad. Silently, he handed me a new glass of wine. I downed it in one long series of gulps.

  He gave a nervous chuckle. "Guess I should've asked for the bottle, huh?"

  At the front podium, a grey-haired woman in a tailored suit was tapping on a microphone. Finally, the attention of the room shifted to her. With a sigh, I sank down in my seat, hoping to become invisible.

  But I didn't feel invisible. The spectacle with Cat aside, I swear, every time I looked up, I saw Nicholas Armstrong staring at me with murder in his eye.

  I tried not to look, but it was hard to ignore. It got even harder after my next glass of wine, because now, there were two of him giving me that look.

  Stupid wine.

  Chapter 63

  The next morning, I woke with a killer hangover. I found Gabriel outside the coffee shop, among the picketers. "We need to talk," I said.

  He studied my face. "Not now."

  "Why not?" I said.

  "Because I can tell you're in a foul mood."

  "No thanks to you," I said. "Ask me who I saw last night."

  He made a show of indulging me. "Who'd you see last night?"

  "Your favorite client. Carolyn."

  "So?"

  "So she's married to Nicholas Armstrong. Maybe you've heard of him? The state senator?"

  Taking my elbow, Gabriel eased me off to the side. "And your point is?"

  I whirled to face him. "That our legal troubles started around the time you gave Carolyn that stupid reading."

  "I saw what I saw."

  "In the cards?" I made a sound of disgust. "You screwed up their marriage."

  "It was screwed up before I came along."

  "Are you sleeping with her?"

  He drew back. "Hardly."

  "I bet Nicholas Armstrong thinks otherwise."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I ran into him last night," I said. "The guy just about bit my head off."

  "And you're blaming me?" Gabriel said. "Maybe you should look within."

  "Cut to the chase, Confucius."

  "Tell me," Gabriel said, "how'd your first council meeting go?"

  When I didn't answer, he continued, "And, how many times have you been arrested this month?"

  "Only once," I muttered. Technically, I hadn't been arrested for accosting Gary. Sure, I'd been driven off in a police car, but that wasn't the same thing. Was it?

  Gabriel gave me a nasty smile. "And you wonder why some politician is reluctant to be seen with you?"

  "The guy was angry," I said. "Not embarrassed. I can tell the difference."

  "Well, he's not mad at me," Gabriel said.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "When Carolyn comes here, it's on the sly."

  "Maybe she's not as sly as she thinks." I lowered my voice. "You can’t give her any more readings. You do know that, don’t you?"

  He glowered at me. "I know no such thing."

  I felt like clobbering him. "Then at least don't do it here."

  He gave me a hard stare. "Have it your way." He picked up his sign. "After all, you always do." And with that, he rejoined his fellow demonstrators.

  At four o'clock, the store's phone rang. It was Conrad. "Still up for dinner tonight?" he asked.

  I hesitated. I didn't recall making plans.

  Conrad chuckled. "It was your idea. Remember?"

  I racked my brain and came up empty. "Did we settle on a time?" I asked.

  "Six o’clock," he said. "I cleared my schedule." He hesitated. "Unless you need to change it?"

  "No. Of course not," I said. "Six is great."

  A couple hours later, I was bundled up and waiting by the window. Conrad arrived right on schedule. I shrugged into my coat and walked outside to meet him. With downtown parking scarce as usual, we’d decided to stroll to the restaurant together.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  I lied. "Never been better."

  He studied my face. "Are you sure? You had a lot to drink last night."

  I felt myself flush. "I'm so sorry. I know I must've really embarrassed you."

  "Not at all."

  "Oh c'mon," I said. "It was a total disaster. And the thing with Cat…" I winced. "God, what a spectacle."

  "Stop apologizing," he said. "I'm the one who's sorry."

  "Why should you be sorry?"

  "I should've left when you wanted to. I guess I couldn't stomach the thought of Nicholas getting the best of us."

  "Maybe he didn't get the best of you," I said. "But he sure got the best of me."

  "That guy takes himself way too seriously," Conrad said. "You know, he's running for congress this fall. National, I mean, not state."

  "Really?"

  Conrad nodded. "And if he makes it to Washington, he'll probably have me to thank."

  "Why's that?" I asked.

  "Because of my rezoning proposal," Conrad said. "Nicholas is leading the opposition."

  I shook my head. "I don’t get the connection."

  "Thanks to me," Conrad explained, "he’s front-page news."

  "Don't tell me," I said. "Mister Photo-Op?"

  "Exactly."

  "You two seemed friendly last night," I said. "Well, at least until I came along."

  "It's all part of the game," Conrad said.

  "What game?"

  "Kissing ass."

  "After last night," I said with a small laugh, "I think your technique needs a little work."

  "I've been at this for months," Conrad said. "I guess my lips have lost their pucker."

  "I can relate," I said.

  "I still can't figure why Nicholas reacted that way," Conrad said. "I've seen him lose his temper. Plenty of times. But never at a female."

  That made me pause. "You think it makes a difference?"

  "Sure," Conrad said. "He has an eye for the ladies. I thought you were going to be the one to protect me."

  Sitting in a corner booth at Luciano's, I told Conrad about my conversation with Scruffy.

  With a soft thud, C
onrad returned his wine glass to the table. "You know that was a mistake, don't you?"

  "You know Scruffy?" I asked.

  "Too well," Conrad said. "He picketed the condos for a while, brought in all kinds of rough characters, scared off some buyers too."

  "When was this?" I asked.

  "Before they moved on to your place."

  "No kidding?" I said. "When those guys picketed your place, do you know if Scruffy was paying them?"

  "Yup, fifty bucks a day. Talk about a fool and his money."

  I was quiet a moment, wondering what our coffee shop had in common with the condos. Scruffy had claimed an investor was funding the picketing. Whoever that investor was, they'd have to be pretty worked up to go to such lengths. A marriage on the rocks might do it. A plan to stir up publicity for an election might do it too.

  "Is something wrong?" Conrad asked.

  "Maybe," I said. "It's just that Scruffy told me he wasn't the one actually paying those guys."

  Conrad looked puzzled. "Then who is?"

  "He claimed to have an investor."

  "Like who?" Conrad asked.

  I shrugged, waiting for Conrad to make the leap. "Who's opposing your condo plan?"

  Conrad laughed. "Only half the city."

  "Anyone in particular?" I asked. "Maybe someone with money?"

  "Nicholas Armstrong?" Conrad shook his head. "I don't believe it."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "He'd never get his hands dirty."

  "Maybe that's where Scruffy comes in."

  Conrad was quiet, considering my theory. "It doesn't fit," he finally said. "The condos, I can see. But fortune telling. There's no platform there."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're front-page news," Conrad said, "but you don't see Nicholas taking a stand on fortune-telling one way or another."

  "So?"

  "So," he said, "if it's not for the publicity, why send people to picket?"

  "His wife comes into the store," I said. "I hear that Nicholas doesn't like it."

  "Now that," Conrad said, "is something I didn't know."

  "Do you think I'm crazy?" I asked.

  "Sure," he said. "It's one of the things I like about you."

  "I'm serious," I said. "Do you think we should report it?"

  "To who?"

  I shrugged. "The police?"

  "We don't know anything for sure," he said. "Let's watch. And wait. If he's behind it, he'll screw up sooner or later."

  Sooner would be better. It didn't help that I still couldn’t locate Edgar Kreezak, the guy who was supposedly our strongest supporter.

  "Can I ask you something?" I said.

  "Shoot."

  "A while back, you mentioned that Edgar might turn on us. Whatever happened with him and your rezoning plan?"

  "Get this," he said. "I had to promise him a bait store."

  "At your development?"

  "Oh yeah. By the boat slips. That guy drives a hard bargain. We sealed the deal yesterday."

  "In person?"

  "Nope. By phone."

  "Did he say anything else? Like where he's been?"

  "Visiting family," Conrad said. "Said he'd be back any day now."

  I frowned. "Do you think he's avoiding me?"

  "I doubt it. He mentioned you when we talked."

  I set my fork aside. "He did?"

  Conrad nodded. "He said he's still on your side, a hundred percent."

  I sank back into my seat. "Boy, you don't know how relieved I am to hear that." With that settled, I could return South tomorrow, if only for a few days.

  "Glad to hear it," Conrad said, "if only to see that smile of yours."

  I laughed. "If you think I'm smiling now, just wait 'til the law's repealed."

  As I spoke, it suddenly occurred to me that I knew very little about Conrad's zoning problems. Selfishly, I'd been so focused on my own stuff that I'd never even asked. It made me more than a little ashamed. "How about your zoning thing?" I said. "How's that going?"

  "I'll get there eventually," Conrad said, giving me a brief rundown. The real issue, he explained, was a proposal to double the size of his development, expanding over a parking lot that currently doubled as a public boat launch.

  "But the city owns that property," I said.

  He shook his head. "No, they don't. I do."

  "Really?"

  He nodded. "Just bought it last year. But boaters, fishermen, tourists – they've been using it so long, that I've got this easement issue."

  Funny, as a local girl, I had mixed feelings about it myself. I had no boat, but I'd still spent a lot of time at that boat launch, watching the ships go by, or just listening to the water. If Conrad developed it, it would be closed off to people like me.

  Across the table, Conrad grinned. "Come on," he said. "Stop worrying about Edgar. You said you wanted to relax, remember?"

  Actually, I didn't remember. But then again, I didn't remember a lot of things about last night.

  Over raspberry cheesecake, Conrad invited me to tour his development. I declined, telling him, truthfully, I'd be driving to Alabama the following day.

  "Are you sure?" he said. "I'd love to show you around. We've got ten units done already."

  In spite of myself, I was intrigued. Plus, I owed him that much. After all, his news about Edgar was the reason I was free to head South in the first place.

  As the waiter cleared away dessert, Conrad gave me a smile and said, "Maybe it was meant to be."

  "What was?" I asked.

  He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. "Us. Fighting City Hall together."

  I returned the smile, keeping it friendly, but feeling a little on edge. It had been a terrible week, and no matter how nice his company was, I was eager for dinner to end.

  With his thumb, Conrad caressed the back of my hand. Instantly, I thought of Bishop. My discomfort grew. It was long past time for me to head South, if only to get some perspective.

  Gently disentangling my hand, I thanked him for dinner. "Next one's on me," I said.

  "Next time," he said. "That sounds promising."

  He paid the bill, and we made our way to the exit. As we walked down the short steps from the restaurant, Conrad took my elbow. I was thankful for the assistance. The steps were slippery, and I didn’t need another bump on the head.

  But then, just as my foot hit the lowest step, I saw a familiar figure walking along the sidewalk. My heart-rate quickened. Oh crap. It was Bishop, carrying a paper grocery bag in each arm.

  From a block away, Bishop looked in our direction. His gaze passed quickly over us and kept on going. A half-second later, recognition dawned. He did a double-take. Our eyes met. He didn't look happy.

  Chapter 64

  Conrad and I turned left onto the sidewalk, heading toward my apartment. We were now facing Bishop head-on. In a minute, our paths would intersect.

  Conrad's hand remained on my elbow. I was wishing he'd let go, but couldn't think of a polite way to shake it off. It wasn't Conrad's fault, after all, that we'd run into the last person I'd choose to see me on what I stupidly, belatedly, now realized was a date.

  But there was no turning back now. Eyes downcast, I kept on going. It was a wide sidewalk, and we passed silently, without incident. I breathed a sigh of relief. With barely a glance, Bishop had kept on walking. So had we.

  And then, Conrad's face lit up. He turned around, calling out to Bishop's receding back.

  "Hey Bishop," he called. "Is that you?"

  Bishop kept walking. Conrad hailed him again, and then a third time. Finally, Bishop stopped. Slowly, he turned around to face us. His gaze slid past Conrad and lingered on me. The accusation hung, silently, between us.

  Conrad headed in Bishop's direction, tugging me with him. "Hey," Conrad said to Bishop, "I almost didn't see you."

  Bishop pulled his gaze from mine. He looked toward Conrad and waited.

  Conrad looked at me and smiled. "Guess I was
a little preoccupied." Conrad let go of my elbow. I breathed a sigh of relief. The relief didn't last. Without skipping a beat, Conrad draped a protective arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

  Again, Bishop looked at me, his face devoid of expression. His jacket was open, and the muscles in his neck were corded tight enough to make me worry.

  Next to me, Conrad continued, "I'd like you to meet my date." He grinned. "Selena Moon, fortune-teller extraordinaire."

  Bishop's voice was a dead monotone. "Nice to meet you."

  "You too," I mumbled.

  "I'm showing Selena the condos tomorrow," Conrad said.

  "Oh yeah?" Bishop's said, hostility simmering under the surface, contained, yet unmistakable.

  As if on instinct, Conrad took a half-step backward. He glanced at me. I glanced away. Conrad regained his ground. He gave Bishop a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not gonna show her yours."

  With a laugh, Conrad turned to me. "No touring his unit. Sorry, but I gave him the ol' Scout's honor."

  Conrad turned back to Bishop. "Bet you'd be willing to make an exception for this little gal though." Conrad gave me a wink.

  "No," Bishop said. "I wouldn't." With a final glance in my direction, he turned and strode away.

  Conrad stared after him. "I wonder what's eating him," he said. "It's not like I'd have called him friendly before. But he's never been outright rude." Conrad gave my shoulders a little squeeze. "Sorry about that."

  "You don't have to apologize," I said. And boy, did I ever mean it.

  Conrad's voice was contrite. "First Nicholas. Now him?" He shook his head. "From now on, I think I'll keep you to myself."

  I said nothing as my stomach churned. I recalled Bishop's words from the other night. I told myself that at least he hadn't caught us, as he'd so eloquently put it, fucking. But that was little comfort as I recalled the look on his face.

  I tried to tell myself I had nothing to be ashamed of. But I couldn’t help it. I still felt awful, and not just about Bishop. About Conrad too. The poor guy had no idea what he'd jumped in the middle of.

  As we walked along, Conrad gave me a sideways glance. "You look upset," he said. "That guy frighten you?"

  Desperately, I tried to shake off the gloom. It wasn't Conrad's fault that my life was a mess. And I'd brought him nothing but trouble.