Foretell

by Belle Malory

  “Do you have anything in black?”

  Her cheery expression began to fade. She ventured back into her closet and came back out with a black scarf in her hands. Confusion swept over me upon noticing the scarf.

  “I’m sensing some hesitation from you,” she said. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

  Lina held the scarf out, sliding the fabric around the back of my head. I could see where she was headed with this. I shook my head, pleading no.

  “Trust me,” she echoed the reminder. She tied the fabric around my eyes.

  “Don’t you already know which dress I’ll end up wearing?” I asked. “You know, doesn’t that come part and parcel with the whole psychic thing?”

  “I see the dress you would’ve chosen,” she admitted. “You would’ve ended up in some dull, lackluster dress. However, the future changes constantly based on the choices you make. You only need to see the right dress to change your mind. And because you haven’t seen it yet, I can’t see your decision.”

  “That sounds complicated.”

  “It’s my life. I’m used to it.”

  Lina zipped me into dress after dress while I stood there blindfolded. She pulled the fifth one down over my body when I heard her intake of breath. “This is the one.”

  She tugged the skirt at the bottom, straightening it and smoothing it into place. “Definitely the one,” she agreed with herself. My blindfold came off of my head a moment later. “You can open your eyes now.”

  Fearful of what I was about to see, I opened my eyes slowly. Lina faced me towards a full-length mirror. There was someone I barely recognized in it, wearing a one-shoulder, tea-length gown with a beaded empire waist. Red. A deep, bright, fiery red. Normally I came out looking like Indie whenever I dressed up. But Indie never wore red. She claimed the color didn’t go well with her skin tone. On me the color was striking. I never would’ve imagined it.

  Lina presented me with her best I told you so grin, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Say it,” she demanded.

  I smiled back at her. “Okay, I’ll admit it. It’s sort of amazing.”

  “Sort of?”

  “All right, really amazing.”

  “Thought so.”

  I stared at myself for a while longer, turning to see the back of the dress.

  “Let’s do your hair and makeup. The wedding begins at four. Curly or straight?”

  “Huh?”

  “Stop ogling your reflection,” she chuckled. “Do you want your hair curly or straight?”

  “Oh. We can leave it straight.” I flushed in embarrassment.

  Lina finished my hair and makeup, completing her handiwork by adding a few swipes of red lipstick. “All done,” she said. “You look gorgeous, dah-ling. It’s very old Hollywood glam. I’m thinking this look is the modern day Sophia Loren.”

  I hugged Lina. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Nine

  I’d never seen anything like an Irish Traveler wedding. From the moment we walked into the large, flowing tent and took our seats, my jaw was in a dropped position. I attended elaborate weddings, even the occasional unorthodox wedding, but this was beyond anything I’d ever seen. Hundreds of people packed into one tent. Where they couldn’t sit, they stood to watch the ceremony from the back. Where had all these people come from?

  The groomsmen and bridesmaids walked down the aisle in pairs, each wearing elaborate costume-like formal wear, in rich, neon colors. They sported large, tilted hats like the kind the Mad Hatter wore in Alice in Wonderland. If their clothes weren’t bizarre enough, I nearly fell out of my seat when the bride walked in.

  “Is she really wearing that?” I whispered. Lola hid her smile.

  The dress easily weighed as much as the bride and cut-out butterflies were sewn into the hems and sleeves. Cut low enough to display a daring amount of décolletage, it was a good thing the ceremony wasn’t being held in a church.

  “The dresses are tradition,” Lola whispered. “They say the bride will wear scars for the rest of her life from the weight of the dress.”

  “That’s madness!” I whispered back.

  She nodded in complete agreement. “Every bride tries to outdo the last. The dresses get bigger and bigger every time.”

  After the ceremony I made my way through the crowd. I noticed the other female guests’ wedding attire, which was pretty much non-existent. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to no one in particular.

  Rex appeared at my side. “You’re staring, Spencer.”

  I glanced over at him. Good thing I was already in the middle of gaping. Rex himself, was a shocker. His dark hair was combed back, revealing more of his features, and he wore an elegant suit and tie. My L.A.-trained eye confirmed the suit was Armani. It was a very debonair, dashing sort of look. Rex didn’t need to look anymore handsome than he already was. My heart skipped a beat just looking at him.

  The Stockholm Syndrome theory was dwindling away. I was attracted to the guy.

  “You’d never know by looking at them, but the Traveler community is very strict,” he told me. “The girls can’t even have sex until marriage, poor things.”

  “But they’re allowed to dress like that? This place looks like a Jersey night club.”

  He smirked. “Weddings are one of the few opportunities they have to come into contact with Irish Traveler boys. You know, to meet potential husbands.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve just never been to a wedding like this before. I’m still…taking it all in.”

  “You were definitely judging,” he said, with a wink. “By the way, you look beautiful, Spencer.”

  Completely stunned by the compliment, I hadn’t even gotten out the words thank you before Rex had walked away.

  Imagine that-he could be nice.

  I looked for Gabe and Lola, and found them heading towards the dining area. I made my way towards them, still in a state of bemusement.

  I approached as a tall, burly Irishman stopped them, introducing himself as Cormac McDougal, father of the bride. He shook everyone’s hands very firmly.

  “Lola, I met yer father a while back. Moori is the name, right? Christo Moori?” Cormac’s brogue was thick and musical. I liked the sound of it.

  Lola nodded politely. “Yep, that’s my dad. How do you know him?”

  Cormac grunted. “I did some of me trades with him. He’s tricky, that one.”

  Lola grimaced. “Please don’t hold that against me, sir.”

  Cormac surprised Lola by laughing heartily. “Don’t fret, lass. I learned some of me best bargaining maneuvers from yer dear old da.”

  Lola’s features relaxed. “Thanks for inviting us to the wedding, Mr. McDougal.”

  “Yer all most welcome. Eat, drink and have yourselves a good time.”

  We made our way to the table, taking seats around a giant, neon green butterfly centerpiece.

  “That’s,” Gabe paused. “Interesting.” He poked at the glittery paper mache butterfly, denting the bloated thorax. “Take a note, Lo. When you plan our wedding, I’d prefer you to go the traditional route.”

  “When I plan our wedding?” she asked

  “You have excellent hearing, my love.”

  “Why am I in charge of the planning?”

  “I wouldn’t want to interfere with all the fun, girly things.”

  I choked back a laugh. Gabe said things in such an extremely calm manner. If it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in his eyes, I’d never have known he was teasing Lola.

  “Well, you can definitely interfere, Gabe,” Lola told him sweetly. “Besides, I would ask Molly for her help, but we both know she’s not my biggest fan.”

  “She’ll warm up to you eventually,” he promised.

  “Who’s Molly?” I asked, curiously.

  “Gabe’s sister,” Lola replied. “She’s also an event planner, back home in Florida.”

  “My little sister has only lived a few lives,”
Gabe explained. “She’s still childish in many ways.”

  “How many lives have I been around for?” I asked them curiously.

  Lola tapped her chin, appearing as if she were counting backwards. Eventually, she shrugged, giving up. “I know you’ve gone through more than me,” she said. “But I’m not even positive how many I’ve lived through.”

  “In short, you’re pretty damned ancient,” Gabe said, smiling.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Everyone is reincarnated,” Lola told me. “It’s not an uncommon thing. I believe it’s a reflection of who people are, why they do the things they do. Roms are an extraordinary people though. We remember the past in a way others can’t.”

  “Except for me,” I pointed out.

  “It will come back to you,” she promised. “My memories came back.”

  “What finally sparked your memory?”

  Lola’s pink lips curved into a slow, reflective smile. She reached for Gabe’s hand, taking it into her lap. She didn’t have to say anything else.

  As soon as dinner was finished, someone announced that Lina’s performance was about to begin. The area grew quiet as everyone turned to face the stage in anticipation.

  The dance was exotic and sensual. Lina was light on her feet. She moved gracefully, her arms twisting in the air like ribbons flowing in the breeze. An ornate veil trimmed in lace slid open, leaving only her eyes unveiled, reminding me of the Spanish flamenco. She shimmied across the stage, lifting and dropping her hips to the beat. The tempo increased, my heart thumping with it, building up in anticipation. Lina rolled her stomach, as if it were a separate entity from her body. A soft, mesmerized breath was drawn from my lips as she lowered her back to the floor, her stomach undulating like a small wave. She was mere inches from the floor, yet her back never once touched it. The rowdy crowd cheered her on, someone making a shrill, yodel-like cry. When the dance drew to its passionate end, everyone gave Lina a standing ovation.

  “She’s so talented,” I mentioned to Lola in an aside.

  “The Irish are thrilled to have her visit,” Lola told me. “It’s a huge honor for Lina to dance for a tribe outside of my father’s. She’s one of the most famous belly dancers in the world.”

  “I can see why. That was incredible.”

  Later, as the daytime faded into night, the inside of the tent turned into a nightclub. Dozens of flashing lights hung from the tent beams and booming speakers blared party music, making me feel like I wasn’t in the middle of nowhere.

  I searched for Lola, wondering where she’d disappeared to. I caught sight of her and Gabe dancing not far from where I stood. I smiled as Lola grabbed Gabe’s tie, twisting it in the palm of her hand and pulling him closer. She danced around him seductively, never looking directly at him, in a flirty kind of manner. It was a cute couple’s moment. I felt a twinge of something similar to envy.

  Servers walked by with flutes of champagne. I toyed with the idea of grabbing one for myself. I’d never tasted champagne before. Never had alcohol for that matter. My younger sister came home drunk more times than I could count. Not only that, but she’d also come home buzzed, wasted, plastered, and once, her friends carried her in, completely passed out.

  In the end, I decided on another cherry coke.

  As the night wore on, the people around me began to display different variations of being drunk. I noticed the young, single guys would chase the girls around, then proceed to carry them off to hidden locations while the girls squealed with laughter.

  That kind of freaked me out.

  Where were the guys taking the girls? I wondered, puzzling over their strange behavior.

  I was in the middle of watching another girl get snatched up when I felt myself being lifted up off of the floor. My plastic cup fell to the ground, soda splashing everywhere. Two large hands secured me tightly as the man ran off into the dark, with me in tow. At first, I was too shocked to do anything. As soon as I realized what was going on, however, I shouted at the guy.

  “Put me down!”

  He didn’t listen, just kept running behind the tent.

  “Hey, man, I’m not one of these Traveler girls and I’m not participating in your crazy--” I was dropped on my feet with a thump. “Practices.”

  I tried to duck beneath his arm, but he pinned me to the back of a wall. I glanced around, realizing we were behind the bathroom.

  A freckled, ruddy face grinned at me, the smell of liquor on his breath. He was young, probably no more than seventeen or eighteen, with curly blonde hair and hazy blue eyes.

  “If you don’t let me go,” I warned. “I will scream. I’m sure that won’t look so good for you.”

  His grin only spread wider. “Go ahead, pretty lass. Ain’t nobody coming to save you from a Grabbing.”

  Completely appalled, I opened my mouth to shout for help. I barely made any noise before the guy pressed his slobbery, wet lips down across mine, proceeding to stick his tongue into my mouth. The taste of alcohol and saliva consumed me.

  Gross.

  I punched his chest several times, but it seemed the only thing I was hurting was my hands. I bit his bottom lip hard. His face immediately bolted off mine. “Ouch, but your a feisty one. Now hold still.”

  His hands brushed my leg, traveling upwards underneath my dress. Feeling his hands on my legs unhinged me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my heart pounding sporadically in my chest. I prayed someone would come save me from this psycho.

  “What are you making such a big fuss for, lass? I just want to get meself a feel or two.”

  “What are you, deaf, man? GET OFF ME!”

  I slid down the wall as he backed away. At first I thought he was finally taking me seriously. Then I noticed a fist being swung into my groper’s jaw.

  Dazedly, I noticed the fist belonged to Rex. My breath caught in my chest as I watched the blonde man fall to the ground, completely caught off guard.

  All I could think about were bricks, and how Rex’s fists supposedly felt like them.

  I watched, horrified, as my groper spat out blood. “Blimey, what did you do that for?” he asked, scooting away from Rex along the concrete.

  “She didn’t want your hands on her, you bloody wanker. Now get lost.”

  The man stumbled while trying to pick himself up off the ground. He finally managed it, then hurried away, mumbling, “Just trying to get meself a Grabbing. Didn’t have to punch me in me damned face over it.”

  As soon as he was out of sight, I took long, deep breaths of the night’s chilly air.

  I managed to collect myself, finding my voice in the process. “Wanker?” I asked, while straightening my dress.

  Rex merely shrugged. “I felt like using his own slang might have more of an impact.”

  “I see. Well, thanks for getting me out of that mess.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How did you know I was in trouble?”

  He tilted his head to the side, as if to say seriously?

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “Your shrieks were well heard, babe.”

  “Really? Even over the music?”

  “Let’s just say you have an exceptionally high pitch.”

  I narrowed my eyes on him. It more or less sounded like he was insulting me.

  “In that case, why did no one else come to help?” I asked angrily.

  “Because Grabbing is accepted amongst the Irish. It’s sort of a tradition.”

  “What do you mean by Grabbing? You’re referring to what that drunk guy just did to me?”

  “Yep.”

  “What the hell kind of tradition is that?” I yelled. “It’s practically rape!”

  “Nah, he wouldn’t have done much more than kiss you. Maybe feel you up, too, at the most.”

  My mouth hung open.

  Rex shrugged. “It’s not my tradition, babe. Why are you getting upset with me?”

  “It’s barbaric! Why are you so accepting of it?�
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  His brows shot up, and his eyes widened in protest. “Are you kidding me? I just punched that guy in the face for you!”

  I started to say something, but stopped myself. Rex had a point. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on him.

  I instantly felt guilty.

  “Sorry,” I offered lamely. “It just makes me mad, that’s all.”

  “I can see that.”

  I fidgeted, feeling a little ashamed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, he didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just feeling a little violated, is all.”

  Rex pulled out a napkin from his coat pocket. “Your lipstick is smeared.” He pointed to his jaw to show me. “Right here.”

  “Thanks.” I wiped at my face with the napkin, leaving it blotched with red lipstick.

  The sound of a slow song began to play in the background. The melodies were soft and hypnotizing, adding a feeling of serenity to the atmosphere.

  I spontaneously asked Rex, “Dance with me?”

  As typical of him, he raised a sardonic brow. It was a habit I’d grown to know well over these past few days.

  I sighed loudly and said, “Forget it.” I walked away, mumbling. “Stuck at a wedding and the only non-groper is a bore.”

  Before I realized what was happening, Rex swung me around. I fell backwards into his arms. “What did you just call me?” he asked, a trace of humor growing in his eyes.

  “A bore,” I teased breathlessly. “But I have to hand it to you, that was quite a move.”

  He lifted me upright, taking my hand into his. The palm of his other hand rested gently on my back. It rested there so lightly, as if he didn’t want to get much closer. Maybe he was trying to point out he wasn’t interested in me that way. “Thanks, Spencer. You’re not so bad at this yourself.”

  We danced slowly, gracefully. Being close to Rex was a little intimidating. He was tall, towering at least half a foot above me. “I learned to dance for appearance’s sake,” I explained, trying to focus my attention on our conversation. “My sister used to force me to go to events with her in case she needed me for something.”