27. Epilogue
Epilogue
Sally
F luffing my hair, I run my hand down my bright red, tight-as-fuck dress as I saunter across the dark bar. I grin at the appreciative looks but keep my attention on the target. She is sitting at the end of the bar wearing a short skirt and an off-the-shoulder shirt. Her eyes scan the crowd while she fiddles with the cup in front of her. Her head jerks my way when I sit beside her.
“That seat is taken,” she snaps.
“This seat.” I point at my lap and settle, crossing my legs.
“Yes,” she grits.
“I don’t think so.” I set my purse on the bar and lean my elbow beside it.
“Listen, I’m meeting someone,” she says.
“Sorry, he can’t make it,” I sigh.
“What the fuck? How would you know?” She glares.
“I had a talk with your date. He doesn’t think it’s going to work out.”
“Lady—”
“Sally,” I say.
“I don’t care what your name is,” she growls.
“That’s offensive. Everyone likes me,” I pout.
“Bitch—”
“I’ve been called worse,” I say dryly.
“Leave,” she demands.
“I will,” I assure her and open my purse. “I have to say a few things first. Here is the receipt from your bank account.” I slap it in front of her. “It’s all gone. The charity that supports mothers and daughters thanks you.”
“What?” she gasps.
“Yeah, you’re broke.”
“I—”
“Broke, yes. You might have to get a job.” I motion to the bartender. “Something sweet,” I grin.
“Who are you?” She stares at the paper, her heart pounding.
“I told you. Sally.” I grab some cash for the drink, waving it with my hand. “I’m a friend of Jules.”
“Jules?”
“Keep up, Janet.” I slide the money across the bar as a drink is placed in front of me. “Thanks, it’s so pretty.” I wrap my tongue around the straw in the pink drink and look at her.
“What’s going on?”
I finish my sip and lean back.
“Janet, you are a horrible mom and person. This is karma, or a rabbit, biting you in the ass. Your date didn’t like the nasty things you’ve done. He won’t call, sorry. I told him to spread the news of the kind of person you are, so don’t try to go through his rich friends.” I take another drink. “Next, Jules will never see you again. If you try, you might get bitten by a snake. She doesn’t forgive you and never will. I’ve heard things, Janet. Bad things. You shouldn’t be a mother. Everything that makes you happy is being taken away.”
“Fuck you. You can’t do this,” she says, her voice rising.
“You know, I usually don’t use my power, but you have left me no choice. I should have known you wouldn’t accept your new reality.” I dig in my bag of tricks. When I pull out the rabbit foot, I laugh. “If you only knew.” I glide it over her arm.
“Gross. Get it away.”
“Stop,” I growl, and she freezes. “I don’t like my voice like this.” I lighten my tone and continue. “I don’t share my gifts, but this will make you do what I want.” I caress her with the fur. “You don’t have a daughter or a son. You're broke and will move far away to start over. Get a real job and live simply. Men will never be a part of your life. You will be lonely and miserable forever.” Her glazed eyes watch the motion of the foot. “Remember that you did this to yourself. You won’t know what you did, but deep down, always know what a nasty, greedy person you were. This is your penance.” I pull away and put my tool away.
“What’s going on?” She blinks.
“Aren’t you supposed to pack? You’ll miss your bus.” I slide a bus ticket in front of her. “Go, Janet.”
“Yes, I have to go.” She frowns and stands on shaky legs.
I watch her leave and take another drink. Fuck, that was fun. What other kind of trouble can I find tonight? I swivel on my stool and lock eyes with a yummy man.
Yes, don’t mind if I do.