by Laury Falter
I glanced up at him, appreciative and amazed. Those feelings were immediately subdued when I heard his English accent shout over the rumble.
“Maybe it was reacting to your attitude.”
Appalled at his nerve, I felt my jaw hit the inside of my helmet as it fell open. Before I could even draw a breath, he spoke again. “Looks like my work here is done. Good night and be safe.” He then added an afterthought – something I am sure was meant to irk me. “I don’t want to have to save you again before daybreak.”
With that, he turned and strolled casually toward the street, rounding the hedge’s corner and disappearing from sight.
I frowned at him even though I knew he couldn’t see it. I rode down to the edge of the property and paused, glancing in the direction he’d gone.
I expected to see him sauntering in all his conceit toward the street corner, but I was stumped.
There was no sign of him.
I stared blankly at the empty sidewalk, a single thought frozen in my mind.
The irritating, attractive boy who had saved my life had just completely vanished.
CHAPTER TWO: SNAKE
I woke up the next morning to the sound of clanging in the kitchen. Not bothering to move, I laid in bed wondering if the noise might be coming from my next door neighbor. Then something ceramic, or maybe glass, broke and I knew the reverberation was much too close to be mistaken for any place other than my house.
Ezra had arrived.
I slipped out of bed and went in search of my boots, the sturdy ones with metal tips in the toes. I had them both on and was finishing lacing the second one when another loud crash came from the kitchen.
“Yu’ll be the one cleanin’ that up. Not me,” said a rumbling Irishman’s voice.
I froze. The voice was male, which Ezra was not. A strange man was in my home…and apparently he wasn’t alone.
While fear would have been an appropriate reaction that emotion was virtually unknown to me – I’d only sensed it for the very first time in my life with the creepy guy in The Square the day before. I was more intrigued than anything.
A few thoughts hit me at once then, in a swarm, but I was able to distinguish them. First, why would anyone break into a dilapidated house that clearly would not hold any valuable possessions? Second, why would they be so loud about it? And third, why would they start in the kitchen and care about cleaning up the mess they left there?
Another higher pitched male voice followed mimicking the Irishman but in a mumble.
I grabbed a broomstick left from the previous inhabitants in the upstairs hallway and slipped down the stairs, careful to avoid the steps that creaked. At the end, I peaked around the corner and down the hallway where I could see two men moving swiftly passed the doorway carrying cartons of eggs and milk.
Not something one would find a trespasser doing, I figured, so I rounded the corner and headed down the hall.
A scream made me come to a complete stop as I passed through the kitchen door.
“She’s up!” said the owner of the scream, a man with bright orange hair, square-rimmed glasses perched on a long and narrow nose, and wearing a tie-dyed tank top. His bones popped out in places where I didn’t even know people had bones, and patches of tendons were the closest thing he had to muscle.
One glimpse at him told me I didn’t have much to worry about in defending myself.
Of course, his broad, toothy smile might have been a hint too.
He moved across the kitchen with a feminine swagger, wrenched the broom from my hands, and ushered me to a seat at the table.
If I’d ever experienced a dream before, I would have surely thought this was one and I was sleepwalking. Did a complete stranger just sit me down at a breakfast table that had not been there the night before when I’d gone to sleep?
He did, and shortly after, he shoved a plate full of stark white pancakes at me.
“I made these especially for you,” he said, smiling proudly. “Cottage cheese flapjacks. Healthy, tasty, bone-building!” He thumped his chest mightily and then rubbed where he’d made contact.
A meaty man three times the size of the little one stomped across the kitchen and slid fried eggs and bacon toward me. My stomach grumbled as the mouth-watering aroma of the second plate reached me. But the skinny man instantly protested. “She is not going to eat that bacteria-infested carcass.”
I glanced down at the plate, noting that it too was new. In fact, quite a few things were new. The stainless steel pans on the stove which the large man was using had not been in the house before this morning. I was certain of it, having done a thorough inventory of the previous owner’s possessions left behind. Appliances were now arranged along the counters and small, flowering plants lined the windowsill. There were paintings, drawings, and artful photography thoughtfully mounted to nearly every wall within sight. Even rugs had been placed at the door to the backyard and beneath the kitchen sink.
I stood up, watching them. They didn’t notice. It seemed they were too busy bickering while continuing to make breakfast. The beefy man added more bacon to the frying pan and the thin one returned to flipping his pancakes, each insulting the other under their breath. I backed out of the kitchen and headed down the hall, feeling very much like I was the butt of some surprise joke.
I passed the small room off to the right of the kitchen first and noticed it now had a desk, lamp, and mismatched office chairs. Several boxes, with what looked like framed diplomas sticking out, were strewn across the floor and on top of anything with a horizontal surface.
The parlor had now been decorated too. Cushy, forest green couches lined each side of a thick, wooden coffee table. A plant stood in the corner, looking like it had always been there. The mantel over the fireplace was cluttered with candles and vases. Even the poker that I’d left covered in cobwebs stood like a new, shining, gold rod propped next to the fireplace screen.
I did recognize that their additions made the house more like an actual home, but I’d seen enough by then. Heading back to the kitchen, I stopped at the doorway and demanded, “WHO are you people?”
“Now that should have been the first order of business, shouldn’t it have been?” said someone from behind me.
I spun around to find a stout, swarthy woman with a mug of coffee and a broad smile. Dreadlocks hung down over her shoulders, lying against a dress swirling with colors and intertwined with the wooden bracelets stacked up both of her thick arms. Incidentally, she only added to the surreal situation.
She held out her hand, and as I shook it, she explained. “I’m Ezra Wood. Cottage cheese flapjacks, here, can be called Felix Pluck. And there,” she nodded toward the giant man who’d returned to the stove, “is Rufus O’Malley…We’re your new roommates.”
I glanced between the three of them realizing they couldn’t possibly be from the same family. Ezra was dark-skinned, rotund, with prominent, full facial features. Felix could have passed for a scarecrow and was far shorter than the other two. Rufus stood like a tree trunk: tall, thick, and carved with tattoos and scars. Yet, he had a depth to him. The manner in which he carried himself and his facial expressions told me that although he could certainly do a lot of damage it was not in his nature.
All this sunk in while her final word registered with me.
“Roommates?” I said, snapping my head back in her direction. “Aunt Teresa only mentioned you.”
“She has a tendency to ignore details,” Ezra replied nonchalantly, standing to pour herself another cup of coffee. She was unapologetic, but it didn’t bother me. She clearly knew my aunt well. “We moved in early this morning.”
“I’ve noticed,” I replied, my voice sounding defensive though I didn’t mean for it to. It was a reaction to my mood.
“Thought we’d wake ya with all the racket,” said Rufus over his shoulder. “Felix dropped his side o’ the couch three times.”
“I told you and you already know it anyways…” Felix whined. “I have b
ad knees.” He then turned to address me. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
“I’m a deep sleeper.”
I watched Ezra return to the table and then muttered “roommates” to myself, allowing the idea to settle.
I’d never had roommates before. And I preferred it that way. My lifestyle seemed to open up doors, dangerous ones, for others around me. It hadn’t taken long for me to recognize that it was safest – for them, for Aunt Teresa, and for me - to keep everyone at a distance and so I had for a very long time.
Felix must have sensed the direction my thoughts were taking because he swayed across the kitchen toward me and patted my shoulder. “Don’t you worry,” he said, in an attempt to be comforting, as he guided me back to the kitchen table, pulling out the chair and pushing me down into it. “We have fabulous furniture…and with the exception of Rufus’s odd feet stench and Ezra’s predilection for coffee all day long, we’re a good lot to live with.”
I caught a glance at Rufus, who flicked a piece of bacon at Felix which hit him square in the nose and caused an offended gasp in return.
I could just barely see the side of Rufus’s cheek turn up, and I figured he was satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten.
“Well, I’ve asked you to take care of it in the past and you refuse,” Felix replied, his pride wounded more than his nose.
Rufus picked up another piece of bacon, threatening, and Felix immediately turned away, busying himself. He placed a container of organic soy butter and bottle of sugar-free organic syrup next to my plate. I had to fight not to make a face at them. “Eat up now. It’s getting cold.”
Rufus looked over his shoulder with a cautionary expression, shaking his head in warning.
“You know, Felix, I’d guess that Maggie is more of a coffee drinker too,” said Ezra, pulling a mug from the now fully stocked cabinet. She poured the steaming coffee and slid it in front of me with a wink; I gave her a thankful smile for the excuse. “When it comes to food, Felix likes to suggest-”
“Monitor,” muttered Rufus at the stove.
“Suggest we eat in a healthy way. You’ll get used to it.”
“We must treat our vessels like a temple,” said Felix between chews of his own cottage cheese pancakes. By his imperial tone, I guessed that he’d recited this phrase many times before.
Unable to determine an appropriate response, I took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. “I didn’t know you all knew each other.”
The three of them looked at me with surprise so I explained. “Aunt Teresa did a photography book on mystics a while back so we traveled the psychic circuit for a while. I saw Ezra reading tarot cards in Phoenix, Felix doing palm reading in San Francisco, and Rufus…I saw you in Austin doing caricatures.”
Felix placed a hand to his chest and sighed, his teeth biting his lower lip as if he were about to cry. “She remembers…”
“’Course she does,” replied Rufus. “’S not like we’re easily forgotten.”
His statement and the uniqueness of each of them, in physical appearance and in mannerisms, were ironic. On the psychic rounds, you meet all kinds of people with oddities, which they use to make a quick buck. It’s so prominent that once you’ve been to enough of the tourist spots that allow them to congregate you are no longer amazed at what you see.
Still, the three currently in the kitchen with me – my new roommates – had definitely stood out. They were undeniably their own persons, unimpressed and untainted by other’s opinions of them.
Ezra turned to address me. “I’m no longer a tarot card reader. I’ve changed careers and now work with under-privileged children. And there is one requirement I have of all those I watch over.”
“Okay…” I replied, hesitant. There was an insinuating tone to her words. She was leading up to something.
“It’s one request. Just one,” she added cautiously, apparently already knowing I wouldn’t like it.
“Uh huh…” I muttered, coolly.
“Aunt Teresa and I selected a private school for you.”
She was right. I didn’t like it.
“No…Absolutely not.” I shook my head.
She was again looking at me with an empathetic but resolute stare. “It’s the only request I’ll make, Maggie. We both felt this was a school you would enjoy and it’ll secure you a spot at any college you pursue.”
“Ezra, I endured a private school once. It was full of snobs and authoritarian dictators. No…” I added determinedly. “I won’t go.”
“Teresa warned me that you would disagree.” She paused, assessing my expression, which I was certain reflected disgruntled agreement. “You might be surprised. Indulge me, Maggie. It’s only one more year until you graduate.”
I looked at Rufus, standing still at the stove with his curious focus on me, and to Felix, where he anxiously tapped his right foot against the ground at a surprisingly rapid pace, and then back to Ezra, waiting patiently for my answer.
When I made a promise, I kept it. So, I took a few minutes to answer. I was already agreeing to live in one place for an exhaustingly full year. To do it surrounded by snobs was downright intolerable. Still, I realized that – in her mind - what Ezra was asking was in my best interest. I appreciated it, but there was one thing I needed to make very clear to her…
“Any other demands and you’ll find me gone.”
She nodded, understanding the insinuation I made, without any noticeable flinch. “Let’s work at avoiding that,” she replied, not appearing to be the least bit concerned.
Realizing I’d had enough of this conversation, I stood and left the kitchen without bothering with another word.
“We’re glad you agreed, Mags,” Felix called out gleefully.
That last word made me stumble and for a second the kitchen doorframe came threateningly close to my forehead.
He’d used a shortened version of my name – a nickname. I’d never had a nickname before. Although my full name was Magdalene no one ever called me by it. In fact, no one called me anything but Maggie and that was just fine with me. Nicknames meant people were getting close to you, becoming friends. I’d avoided friends for the same reason I’d avoided roommates. The closer they came to me, the more potential there was for them to be dragged into the problems I caused.
I went upstairs to shower as the name he’d used swam through my head. In about fifteen minutes I’d decided that I liked it and that I would even respond if he used it again. This was a big breakthrough for me – the one who kept everyone at arm’s length.
When I stuck my head through the kitchen’s back door to say goodbye, Felix beamed at me and said it again. “See you there, Mags.”
I flinched at the name, still unfamiliar with it, but quickly recovered. “Where?” I asked.
“Jackson Square,” he replied, chuckling at me.
I blinked, stunned. “How did you know where I was going?”
“We know what you do for a living. We saw you on the psychic circuit, remember?” He winked at me.
“Oh…” Noticing Ezra was no longer in the kitchen, I added, “Will Ezra be there?”
Felix rolled his eyes, threw the dish towel he’d been using over his shoulder, and leaned down to me, whispering, “She won’t. And you’ll learn pretty quickly that she’s not here to imprison you. She’s here to protect you.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like a fine line to me…,” I mumbled.
Felix found that humorous and squealed as he playfully snapped his dish towel at me. “Get going! And save us a spot!”
I quickly ducked out the door before the towel could reach me and went to unlock the shed. As I pulled out my bike, I was amazed at how the morning had turned out so different than expected. New roommates. New school. My mind drifted to the night before. New handsome stranger…
I dwelled on the memory of the stranger’s bottomless, sultry, blue-green eyes, as I rode to work. I was in such deep thought that I didn’t recognize right away that I was stopped at the same
intersection where I’d seen the blue Ford Mustang the evening before. Then I recalled how the guy in the driver’s seat had stared at me. I shuddered slightly. In fury, was the only way I could describe it. I’d have bet that it took everything in him not to step on the gas pedal and plow me down right there. My mind was so saturated with the image of that irate stare, the person behind me honked loud and long before I kicked my bike into first gear and moved on.
I reached The Square without any sight of the blue Ford Mustang or any sign of the guy who’d been driving it. Maybe it was a fluke and the guy was just a crazy tourist now on his way home. I considered this, but something inside told me that wasn’t the case. I then shoved the thought aside and hurried to set up.
I parked my bike against the fence and set up two chairs bought at the local drugstore. Then, I hung up the sign I carried in my backpack advertising: “Send a Message to Departed Loved Ones,” and in smaller letters below, “Proof will be provided or free of charge.” I had just paid the guards their money when Felix and Rufus arrived.
Felix drove a lime green Camero with a pink, furry steering wheel and giant dice hanging from the rear view mirror. When it stopped, it made a loud bang which drew the attention of the security guards. I walked over to the car and quietly suggested to Rufus that he slip the guards each a twenty dollar bill to avoid any trouble. Felix and Rufus then set up their tables and chairs a few spots from mine, and I handed over another hundred to secure each of their spots. I could have suggested to either Rufus or Felix that they make the payoff to the guards but their bickering drew enough attention that I thought any interaction with a guard was a potential for disaster.
Throughout the day, passerby’s and the other mystics and peddlers chuckled at my service as they walked by or muttered, “That’s a new one.” But then I secured a customer, followed by another and another. By late morning, I had encountered a surprisingly steady flow of business – more than in any other city I’d worked. There were a few slow times when I simply picked up a book I’d bought on the city’s history, and conversely, during rushes I focused on efficiency in my “order-taking”.