Chapter 13 #3
There’s nothing on that asshole’s chest besides perfectly sculpted muscle.
Madame Ximena doesn’t know that yet, because she pulls another card and lays it carefully on top of the others.
“But not all is lost, my dear. Like I told you, all it takes is a little effort and patience… and taking small steps so you don’t scare him away. Then he can be yours.”
Yeah, my ass. My ass I’m just going to sit here and agree with all the bullshit this crazy old woman is saying.
Suzi obviously believes her. She accepts the advice about rubbing rosemary oil into her hair, which apparently attracts romance, or at least leaves it really soft, and learns a little spell to perform under the full moon. Then Madame Ximena gives her some tea too.
Once all the girls have had their turn at the table, it’s almost time for the limousine to arrive, so I announce that I’m going upstairs to grab the payment while she packs her things back into her witch suitcase, which honestly looks more like the Weasleys’ camping tent from Harry Potter considering how much stuff she can fit inside.
“What about you, my dear?” she asks in a sweet, maternal voice completely unlike the mysterious witch persona from moments ago.
“Oh, no! I’m fine. I’m the maid of honor. My job here is just organizing things. I don’t need to participate.”
“Oh, but it’s no trouble at all,” the woman insists. Then she glances at the clock. “We still have some time. Sit for a bit, my dear. Have more tea.”
And here we are with the damn tea again.
“Yeah, Julie!” the girls begin encouraging me. “Let’s see what the future has in store for you!”
I’m terrified to find out what the future has in store for me, but Madame Ximena is giving me this warm, welcoming smile, her eyes kind beneath the thick lenses of her glasses while she gestures toward the chair, practically forcing me to sit down.
That’s the only reason why I do it.
And then I pour myself more tea.
By now, I already know the whole process. I take the cards and start shuffling them slowly, letting them feel me, know me, all that nonsense. Only when I feel like it’s enough, I hand them back to her.
“Anything specific you’d like to know?”
I shrug.
Not really.
“Will I ever be valued at work?” I ask out loud, and my words are immediately followed by a chorus of boos.
“Boring,” Gemma grumbles while waving at the bartender for another drink.
“You’re doing this wrong, Julie!” Mila complains too, explaining it to me like I don’t already know. “You’re supposed to ask dirty questions! We want to hear about all the DICKS waiting for you in the future! Nobody cares about boring work questions.”
“Yeah, Julie! Why are you ruining everything talking about work?”
“Because I’m not filthy rich,” I answer Cordelia.
Honestly, I’m not even making that up. It’s the absolute truth.
Luckily, Madame Ximena starts turning over the cards on the table after my question, ignoring all the complaints. The first card shows a hanging man.
A wonderful, fantastic start, as you can clearly see.
I let out a tired sigh.
“I’m guessing the answer is no.”
“The Hanged Man does not mean suffering, my dear. Look at his face. Calm. Passive…” she says, before turning over the next card. “He isn’t dying. He’s simply waiting for something to happen. And you can make that something happen, if you want.”
“What, by begging my boss for a raise? Making him an offer he can’t refuse?” I ramble, laughing at my own words. “Well, except I have nothing to offer him besides my naked body.”
Which, at this point in life, isn’t even all that impressive anymore.
She flips another card.
“You’re not his type,” Madame Ximena informs.
Lianne snorts with the comment, then just wanders off toward the bartender for another drink. Everyone’s doing that. Drinking and chatting with absolutely zero interest in my financial problems.
Honestly, fair enough. Talking about money, Julie. At a bachelorette party, while hot guys with eight-packs keep serving cocktails nonstop. Why would they care?
“One door closes, another opens,” she adds.
Was this supposed to help me somehow?
“But you are the one who decides when it’s time to close the first door in order to open the next one. You are the one who must discover what lies on the other side.”
Since I have absolutely no idea what lies on the other side of anything, I refill my cup with tea once again in hopes of figuring it out.
Mental clarity or whatever.
Sure. Why not?
“Well, thank you very much, Madame Ximena! I’m gonna go get your money now,” I say, starting to rise from my chair.
Until I hear her ask, “Is there anything else troubling you, my dear?”
I freeze exactly where I am, unable to stand up and go anywhere.
That sneaky witch!
My body says no, but my mind keeps asking the same question over and over. It’s been asking ever since I got home after being arrested with Brock Magnus.
What the hell happened with Jasper?
As if she can hear the damn question in my head, Madame Ximena pulls another card and lays it delicately on the purple cloth.
It’s the fucking High Priestess.
She immediately looks at me. Then turns her head toward Suzi by the bar, taking an especially long sip of her Margarita.
Whatever’s happening, I’m just praying this woman keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t destroy the tiny scraps of dignity I still have left.
That’s what I think my face is doing right now. Begging her not to say anything. And maybe she hears me, maybe the universe tells her, because there’s a sparkle in her eyes as she presses her lips together excitedly and pulls another card.
“The Wheel of Fortune.” Then comes the Sun. She smiles. “You have something very good coming your way, my dear.”
I have absolutely nothing coming my way. Neither good nor bad. Not here, not anywhere.
I mean, can the best orgasm of my entire life with a complete idiot really count as something good?
Apparently, to Madame Ximena, it can.
“You shouldn’t waste it.”
I’m speechless. Completely speechless.
I have no idea what the hell this woman is talking about.
“The winds are changing and the wheel is turning… this moment could be the turning point for you and him,” she continues, once again completely cryptic.
“Him?” Mila obviously only catches the last word and suddenly appears from wherever she’d disappeared to while Madame Ximena was talking about my career. “Did I hear a him? Who’s she talking about, you whore?”
“No idea,” I answer, though my eyes remain fixed on Madame Ximena, daring her to say one more thing so I can murder her right here in the middle of the living room without the slightest remorse. “I think your cards are confused.”
“The cards are never confused, my dear. They feel the universe. What exists between the lines, not what we all think we can see. But if you still doubt…” she says, pulling another card beside the others. “You must open yourself to possibilities before it’s too late.”
“I need actual words here, Madame Ximena! Stop talking to me like a fortune cookie.”
“The paths are aligned… but paths are like planets and stars, my dear. They only cross once in a while, and then each continues on its own journey.”
If that was her attempt at clarifying things, then I really need more tea.
I don’t even have to ask, because immediately she offers, “Why don’t you have a little more tea to organize your thoughts, my dear?”
I drink the tea.
“Julie! Could you be a little more romantic? She’s saying you’re going to meet the love of your life and that’s your reaction?”
I drink more tea.
“Oh no, my dear. I’m not saying that. I’m saying she already has.”
I dump the rest of the liquid from the cup into my mouth and swallow in one gulp. The entire room erupts into excited squeals. Mila is almost hopping beside me.
“This is an old lady dressed like a witch at a bachelorette party in Mexico, Mila. Calm down.”
The next card is the Knight of Wands. Madame Ximena apparently understands it perfectly because she gives me a knowing look before adding, “He sees you, my dear.”
“So what? He’s not blind?” I ask, thoroughly done with this whole thing.
“He sees who you truly are. And he believes in you more than you believe in yourself.”
“Well, it’s definitely not Mr. Kyle, then,” Mila jokes before laughing at herself.
And somehow, even after the laughter fades, it keeps echoing inside my mind. Like a vinyl record spinning beneath someone’s finger.
The same thing happens when I hear Lianne’s distant voice asking, “One more Mojito, sweetheart!”
Her voice is slow and heavy now, and her arms move the same way. Slow like waves. Slow like she’s underwater.
As if the whole house were underwater, and the waves make the sunlight shimmer above our heads, because we’re all underwater now.
My God, I am completely, catastrophically stoned!