“Me? No, just thought I’d check them out. I was supposed to meet a friend here.”
“Oh, sorry. . . ,” he says. My ears burn and I know I’m turning all shades of red. I’m glad it’s dark in here.
“No, I mean, not like a guy or anything. Well, yes, a guy. But not like a guy . . . guy. It’s not like I got stood up or anything. I mean, not in the conventional girl/guy kind of way. It’s not that,” I say. “I’m supposed to meet Joel. You know Joel Borneut, right?” I’m jittery and saying too much, but Andy just nods and watches the band onstage while I bite at a hangnail.
“Yeah, yeah, I know him,” he says. “Good guy.”
“Yeah, good guy who just ditched me to hang out with his new girlfriend,” I blurt out.
“That sucks,” he says. “People disappoint, Frenchie.” He takes the flask out again and offers it to me.
I shake my head. “No thanks.” He shrugs and takes another swig.
“I thought this stuff might numb the terribleness of this band, but they’re still pretty bad,” he says.
I look over at the stage and notice the Tantrums’ lead singer is on his back, writhing like he’s in pain and making his way from one side of the stage to the other.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll probably ditch soon.” And realize too late that hanging out with Andy has been the best part of my evening, and I should be trying to make this moment last.
“Yeah, me too,” Andy says, but neither of us leave. I should leave. I should rescue him from my awkward company. But instead, I just stand next to him and listen to the terrible Tantrums some more.
“Do you come here often?” I ask him because I feel I should say something.
“Sometimes,” he says.
“Cool,” I answer.
Despite their total lack of talent, I focus all of my attention back on the band, just so I can stop focusing on how close Andy Cooper is standing next to me.
But after a few minutes, I sneak a look over at him. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning his head back against the wall. I notice the line of his jaw, straight and strong. If I moved closer to him and tilted my head back, too, my lips would reach his chin perfectly. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and catches me looking at him.
And of course I look away.
I open my mouth to say something, anything to shift the attention from my awkwardness.
“This band really sucks . . . ,” I say even though we’ve already established this. But he’s saying something too, and even though the music is screeching and I was talking over him, I know I hear it.
“. . . hang out for a while?”
“What?” I say, leaning in closer so that I can hear him clearly. So I don’t make a fool of myself by thinking he said what I think he said.
He leans in closer, so close that I can feel his breath on my ear and smell the alcohol. He says it again, “Do you want to hang out?”
“Uh . . . sure,” I say. “But aren’t we kind of already doing that?” Nice, Frenchie.
He laughs. “Right. But I meant, like, let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Let’s . . .” He pauses and smiles. “Have one cool night.”
“One cool night . . . ,” I repeat.
“One night of whatever, you know? One night of something more than this.” He gestures around at the place and the people around us. “One night to do anything and go anywhere. . . .” His blue-green eyes look glassy, and I know it’s probably the alcohol, but maybe they’re also bright with anticipation.
I don’t say anything immediately. I stare at the band disinterestedly and say, “Well . . . ,” like I’m considering it.
“Come on,” he says.
I look at him and smile. And then he smiles back. Suddenly it feels like Andy Cooper and I are in on this great big secret together.
“Let’s go,” I say finally.
He grins. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 18
TONIGHT
I go through the red velvet curtain and notice it’s much darker in here than the main area. It looks like it’s just a long hallway. I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust, and run my hand down the cold brick. I know this is where I saw Andy come out that night with the guy who I’m pretty sure went to our school years ago. I continue walking down the hall, but don’t see anyone and wonder if this is a stupid idea. I feel the bass and drums thumping through my hand as I feel my way down the hall. I feel another curtain to my right and peek through it. Another hallway. Somewhere I hear voices, but they sound like they’re coming through the walls. I bite my lip and wonder if I should keep going further into the darkness, or through this curtain and down this other hall. I opt for the new direction.
“What are you doing back here?” I spin around and some big muscle-head guy is towering over me.
The guy is intimidating, but I try to act like I belong here.
“I’m looking for someone,” I say.
He looks at me expectantly with his arms on his hips, which looks kind of funny because he’s huge—like a chastising mama gorilla.
“Who?” he asks.
“A really skinny guy, with dark-rimmed glasses. And he’s scruffy.”
“Sid? You’re looking for Sid?”
I have no idea if I’m looking for Sid or not, but I nod. “Yeah, Sid. I gotta talk to him.”
He stares me down. “You know Sid?”
I scowl. “Yes, and he told me he’d be here.” I cross my arms. “Is he here or not?”
The guy eyes me a little longer and then says, “Down that hall, out the back exit . . . like always.”
“Right, thanks,” I say as he moves past me. I backtrack and find my way to the original hall I was in.
I think of Andy and wonder if he ran into Mama Gorilla. Did he get asked the same questions? Or did he fist bump Mama Gorilla as he passed him in the hall?
I head toward the red exit sign down the hall. Somebody comes in through the door and makes his way toward me. It’s too dark to see if it’s Sid, so as he passes, I whisper, “Sid?” figuring he’ll stop if it’s him.
“Back there,” the dark figure answers. I push open the door at the end of the hall. It leads to a dark back alley, barely illuminated with a backlight near the door.
I don’t see anybody as I step outside, and I’m only the slightest bit aware of how stupid it is to go into dark alleys alone looking for some sketchy guy.
I look around, but see no one.
“Sid?” I try.
Nothing. And my whole plan starts to undo before it even begins.
“Sid?” I say again.
“Who the fuck wants to know?” comes a voice from the far right side of the alley.
“Uh, I do.”
“And who the hell is ‘I’?” says the voice again.
I pause and wonder if I should turn around and go back inside before this gets all screwed up. Finally, somebody emerges from the other side of a Dumpster I hadn’t noticed. He’s rail thin and sketchy-looking. It’s Sid. “Frenchie,” I say.
“What do you want?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Now that he’s in front of me, and there’s not some voice coming from the darkness, I realize what a tiny guy he is. Even though he’s taller than me, he’s probably half my weight and he looks frail. I could probably break him in half. “You know Andy Cooper?” I ask.
“What’s it to you?” He answers all streetwise.
“He’s a friend. He told me I’d find you here,” I say.
“Oh yeah? And how exactly did he tell you? Did he reach out to you from the great beyond?” He says and stares at me. I’m taken off guard for a minute because he knows. I resume my composure and go on.
“Listen, I know he came to you about four months ago. I was with him. Now all I want is some of the same stuff, okay?”
He looks at me for a while and then says, “You better not be setting me up,” and he looks over his shoulder.
“I’m not,” I say, “just help me out, okay?”
“Fuck you,” he says. He turns his back on me and starts walking away.
“NO!” I yell, and start following him, “Listen to me,” I say. He turns around. “I know you sold to him that night and all I’m asking is for you to do the same, okay? Just sell me what you sold him. I don’t give a shit, I just want the same.”
He stares at me for a second before saying, “You want to end up like Andy?”
I shrug, “Maybe.”
“He went on a wild ride,” he says. I shrug again. “Let me see the cash.”
I pull out my wallet and show him what I have. He reaches over and grabs all of it before looking around again and going into his pocket. He pulls out a small bag filled with all kinds of pills and tosses it to me.
“Chase it with some liquor, they’ll work better.”
“Thanks,” I say, putting them in my now empty wallet.
“Andy was a good guy,” he says suddenly. “Pretty fearless. If you see him”—he says with a grin—“tell him Sid said hi. Now get lost.” And with that he turns around and heads back toward the Dumpster and leaves me standing there. “Go!” he yells back. I turn around and head back inside.
I go down the hall again, toward the loud thumping music, somehow feeling different with the pills in my wallet.
I go through the red curtains again and into the crowded room of dancing people. I feel like I know something they don’t.
I spot Colin.
“Let’s go,” I say as I walk past him and back outside.
Chapter 19
THAT NIGHT
Andy and I leave the Stage together and head to my car, but we pass a little shop on Orange Avenue with a flashing sign advertising tarot and palm readings. Andy stops in front of it and says, “What do you say, Frenchie, adventurous one? Do you want to know your future?”
“I don’t know. It’s always seemed like such a scam to me,” I say. “I mean, don’t you think whatever they say, you have the power to change? You could leave there and do the opposite of what they say, so then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know. I figure some things are gonna happen no matter what,” he says. “Come on, let’s check it out.”
“I dunno. Aren’t you scared you’ll go in there and she’ll tell you something horrible? Like you’re going to get in an accident or die?” I say.
“I guess I’m the kind of person who would want to know,” he says.
“Fine,” I say. Andy reaches for my hand and I catch my breath as his fingers lace with mine. He opens the door and the sound of wind chimes fills the air.
As soon as we walk in, I smell an overwhelming variety of incense. There’s a ton of wind chimes hanging all over and rows and rows of weird knickknacks, incense burners, crosses, and books. We’re the only ones in the tiny store.
A woman with long black hair peppered with gray comes out from behind a curtain.
“Good evening,” she says. “Can I help you two?”
I look over at Andy. This is his idea, his adventure.
“Uh, is this where we can get a reading?”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s ten dollars for a palm reading, fifteen for tarot, and twenty for psychic,” says the woman.
I look at Andy. “Forget it,” I tell him. Like I need to pay twenty dollars to be told I’m going to die.
“We’ll take a psychic reading. Each,” he says and pulls a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. “My treat,” he says to me as the woman goes to the register.
“What the hell?” I say. “Do you always carry that much money with you?”
“Not always.”
The woman returns with Andy’s change, and then goes to the door and flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.
“Who’s first?” she asks.
“You,” Andy says to me.
“Me? Why not you?”
“Just go,” he says, and since the old woman is standing there waiting on one of us, I shake my head and say, “Fine.”
The woman smiles and tells me to follow her. She leads me through the curtains, and to a little room with a table and two chairs. She tells me to sit down, and then she sits across from me.
“Try to relax,” she says. “I will tell you what I see. I will tell you good and bad.” I get nervous when she says this. What if she gives me an age? An actual age? The psychic asks me for my hand, which I offer slowly. She puts her hands over my open palms, closes her eyes, and takes some deep breaths. I look at her wrinkled hands, almost translucent and covered with brown age spots. I look at her face, deep in concentration, and wonder if I should also close my eyes. But I want to catch any change in her expression, so when she feels sorry for me and lies by telling me I have a bright future, I’ll know it’s not true. She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“I sense you are an old soul,” she says. “You have been on this earth before. You have had many lives. You are a wise, creative individual.” She closes her eyes again. “But you will lose your focus. Something will happen and the uncertainty you already feel will multiply tenfold.”
She opens her eyes again and looks straight at me, “I worry for you.”
Now I know the one thing you don’t want a psychic to say to you is, “I worry for you.” My stomach drops. What the hell is she seeing?
She continues with, “I sense darkness around you. I sense . . . emptiness.”
Does this woman have anything good to tell me?
“You are looking for direction in your life right now. You have blurry plans. And something or someone unexpected will have a great impact on them,” she says, looking straight at me. “It will throw you and your plans into much confusion.”
She sighs. “I sense you will have much to overcome in the near future. You will begin to question many things,” she says. “But you are capable of making wise decisions. And you are quite sensitive, which means you feel deeply, more than most, and sometimes your feelings can overwhelm you.” She looks at me as if that should settle it. “Do you have any questions?”
Do I have any questions? Uh, yeah. What the hell kind of reading was that?
But instead I say no because I’m trying to remember everything she said, but I can already feel it slipping away since it mostly sounded like a riddle.
“Okay,” she says and waits. I assume this is my cue to get up, but then she says, “Close your eyes.”
I do.
“Think on something, something you wish,” she says.
Maybe I should be wishing for a long life. Maybe I should try and think of myself as old and happy, but I can’t. All I can think of is Andy sitting outside this room and what it would feel like to kiss him tonight. So I think on that as she holds my hands, and when she lets go and tells me I can open them again, I’m sorry I’m not thinking of that kiss anymore. She stares at me. I want to ask her if my wish will come true, but she looks at me with sad eyes. She says, “Some wishes are meant to come true. Others are not. You will be fine.” This sends such a wave of disappointment through me. I wish I hadn’t agreed to do this. I think this is my cue to get up. I do and she says, “Send in . . . your boyfriend?” she asks.
I shake my head, “He’s just a friend.” So much for being a psychic.
“Oh,” she says. “That’s . . . good.” I nod and thank her, though I don’t know why since she just told me my life is going to suck.
I go through the curtain and spot Andy. “Your turn.” I tell him.
“How was it?” he asks.
“Weird,” I say.
Fifteen minutes later, and he’s still not out. I wonder if I took this long. My reading only felt like two minutes. Probably because I am going to die young and the poor woman had to make some stuff up on the spot. After all, a psychic wouldn’t tell you you’re going to die soon, would she? But if that’s what she saw, a warning would have been nice.
A few minutes later, Andy comes out.
“So,” I ask, “what’d she say to you?” The psychic walks out behind him with a strange
expression on her face.
“You really want to know?” he asks as we head outside.
“Of course.”
“She said I’m going to die tomorrow,” he says.
“Yeah, right. Me, too,” I say and laugh.
The sound of wind chimes cuts through my laughter, and when I look back I see the old woman standing by the door, looking down the street at us.
“Remember,” she calls. “You can make your own future.” She points one crooked finger at Andy.
Andy stares at her and then turns away. “Scam,” he says to me.
Chapter 20
TONIGHT
Colin and I head inside. The smell of the store and the sound of the chimes instantly take me back to my night with Andy.
But the woman who comes out from behind the curtain is not the same one from the previous night. This one is much younger, with short black hair.
“Can I help you guys?” she asks.
Colin looks at me and waits.
“I, uh . . .” They both stare at me expectantly. “I was looking for the lady, with the long hair.” Colin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
“Oh, that’s my mother,” the young woman explains. “We both work here. She’s not here tonight, but I can help you. Would you like a reading?”
Colin looks semiamused, until I say, “No . . . but he does.”
“Me?” Colin says.
“Yes, you,” I say. “Twenty dollars right?” I ask.
“For a psychic reading, yes,” says the lady.
Colin says, “Frenchie, I don’t want a reading.”
“Yes, you do,” I tell him. “Please.” Even I can hear the desperation in my voice. I clear my throat. “Please,” I say again.
He holds my gaze for a minute and then says, “Fine, but you have to get one too.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure if I will and besides, I’m kind of broke now. “You first,” I say.
Colin takes a twenty out of his wallet and says, “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this,” as he hands it to the woman.
She takes the twenty and tucks it away in the register before going to the door and flipping the sign to CLOSED. And then Colin and the psychic disappear to the back room.
Death, Dickinson, and the Demented Life of Frenchie Garcia Page 8