Chapter Four
Remy
A big neon sign blinks with the words “Fortune Teller,” and below that, another, smaller wooden sign declares Miss Cleo’s Prophecies. Ty and Jude bounce on their toes excitedly while Flynn tries to get a look in the building through the windows.
“Fuck yes! This is the perfect activity for your bachelor party, bro,” Jude cheers, feeling like he’s now confirmed his initial assessment from across the street. “This is exactly what we need to get the night back on track.”
Flynn stands up straight and shrugs, and I breathe out a sigh. Great. Something else I’m going into blind.
“What if she says I’m going to lose a testicle in a freak stripper-related accident?” Ty asks with a chortle.
“We can take you right back next door and get it over with, I guess,” I supply.
“Come on, come on,” Jude interrupts. “We have all the time in the world to give one another shit, but the opportunity to go inside and have our fortunes read is now! Stop bullshitting, and let’s go!”
He yanks open the door, diving in headfirst. He’s closely followed by Ty and then, slowly, a somewhat reluctant Flynn.
That leaves me for last, and though I briefly consider leaving my brothers behind and catching the subway home, ultimately, I decide to follow along.
When we step inside, it’s dark enough that it takes my eyes a full thirty seconds to adjust. The smell is musty and stale, but I’m not all that surprised as I get a look around.
Dark burgundy velvet curtains hang heavily over every surface, gold-tinted ropes tying them back at the doorways. I can only imagine the types of people this place pulls in on a regular basis, and if I had to guess, I’d say the sex-den-style curtains have never been washed.
I wrinkle my nose and sigh. Why in the universe of fucks did I leave Charlotte to come out with these bozos tonight?
Ty and Jude taunt and take fake punches at each other as they dance around the room, and Flynn looks around calmly. He gives nothing away on his face, but I can’t believe he’s thinking anything other than the things I am at this point.
“I don’t even think anyone’s here,” I say to Jude, a heavy sigh following my words. I glance around the curtain into the back room and over to the room at the side. Nothing.
Screw this. I’m done.
I turn to leave, shoving around Flynn’s stationary body, but I pull up short when a woman steps into my path, seemingly out of nowhere.
She has bright green eyes—so powerfully colored that they shine even in the dim room—and her dark hair is pulled back under a velvet hood. She looks relatively youthful, her skin unmarred and smooth, but I can tell she’s a lot older than she looks. Somehow. I just can’t put my finger on how.
“Hello, boys,” she says softly, gesturing forward with both hands. “Remington, Flynn, Ty, and Jude. I’m sorry I’ve kept you. I’m Cleo.”
“Where did you come from?” Flynn asks, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that says he’s just as spooked as I am by her sudden appearance and use of our names.
“It matters not where we’ve been, my dear, but only where we are going.” My skin tingles with uncertainty at her cryptic message. I don’t like the feel of this place at all, and as my body prepares to move, her eyes jump directly to me.
“That is why you’re here, is it not? To have your fortune told?”
My shoulders settle as she pulls her lips up into an impressively curved smile. She’s teasing me, I think.
And I really don’t know if I like it.
“Where’s the crystal ball? Isn’t there always a ball?” Ty asks, bouncing from the opening to the back room forward, bumping both Flynn and me out of the way.
“Still a little worked up over almost having to find a replacement for that testicle, huh, child?”
My eyebrows draw together, and Flynn’s head whips toward me as my mind races. How the fuck does she know about that? And our names?
And then it hits me.
We were just talking outside, in front of her shop. She probably has a million fucking cameras pointed out there, with audio, and that’s how she gets her ideas for what to say to people when they come in and pay her for a load of garbage.
“How many cameras do you have outside?” I ask, my tone unmistakably accusatory.
She smiles again, skirting past me toward the back room. “However many you need to believe I have, my dear.”
I roll my eyes. Fucking hell, this woman is full of shit, and apparently, she gets some kind of sick pleasure out of toying with people.
“Do you like robbing people of their money, Cleo?” I say, unable to bite my tongue any longer.
“Don’t mind him, Cleo. He’s in a really bad mood.”
I reach out and swipe at Jude’s head, and Cleo’s voice cracks out in a whiplike reprimand.
“Children, please. I know all about Remington and his moods.” She meets my eyes, hers narrowing with some weird form of allegation. “I know all about them.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I question, agitated. I don’t know who the fuck this lady thinks she is with all her tricks, but she doesn’t know a goddamn thing about me.
“Remy, relax,” Jude chastises. “This is supposed to be fun.” I almost growl at his devil-may-care face, but he turns back to the crazy woman and sits down in the chair in front of her table, gesturing for her to take the seat on the other side. “You can do me first, Miss Cleo.”
“Me too!” Ty volunteers excitedly, raising his hand.
Cleo tsks, sinking into the chair and holding up a flattened vertical hand to Ty. “One at a time, love. Your turn will come.”
Jude vibrates in the seat, his eyes bouncing from me to Ty to Flynn and back to Cleo again, he’s so excited. Cleo holds out a single hand, palm up, and Jude reaches out without hesitation to lay his against hers.
She clasps her fingers around his, closing the hand sandwich with her other one over the top, her eyes shutting tightly.
Her lips move almost as though she’s talking, but no sound comes out.
I give Flynn a look out of the side of my eye, and he actually has the audacity to crack a small grin.
When Cleo opens her eyes again, her mouth is curved into an exaggerated smile that feels almost inhuman.
“You, my darling Jude, have a compulsion to feel the high of a wager.”
“So, what? He’s going to have a gambling problem?” I interrupt to ask angrily. “Because if that’s your prediction, you couldn’t be more wrong. The only way that’ll happen is over my dead body.”
Miss Cleo clicks her tongue and wags a finger at me as she shakes her head.
“You don’t think I know that, my darling boy? I do.”
“What do you mean, then?” Jude asks, his eyes wide and eager.
“There will come a time…” She pauses and then corrects herself. “No. There will come a bet . One that will change the course of your life. One that will mold the shape of you as a man. Be careful, though, child. It won’t be a period of easy choices. But if you handle it right, it could lead to a great deal of happiness for you and the ones you love.”
Jude wags his eyebrows, half convinced now by this crock of shit that he’s going to hit it big on a game of chance. And I’m going to have to spend the foreseeable future making sure he doesn’t dump his money into a goddamn Ponzi scheme.
I glare at Cleo as she waves a hand to Ty, summoning him to take Jude’s place in the chair.
I plant my feet and cross my arms over my chest. The sooner we get done with this farce, the sooner we can get the fuck out of here so I can start trying to restore sanity to the Winslow lineage.
Flynn steps up and grabs Ty by the shoulder, though, shoving him to the side and surprising us all. “I’m next.”
“You’re really going along with this shit, Flynn?” I question disbelievingly. Out of all three of my brothers, Flynn is the last one I expected to be down for this bullshit.
He shrugs. “It’s just for fun, Rem.”
At Flynn’s always practical words, I inhale a deep breath and nod. He’s right. I don’t know why I’ve let Cleo get me so worked up in such a short amount of time, but it’s bordering on ridiculous.
This is a fun escape from reality—a last hurrah with my brothers before my wedding day. It’s unnecessary to give it any more credence than that.
“Go ahead, then,” I bark at Cleo, some of my ill-advised feeling still obviously rumbling around the surface.
She smiles again and takes Flynn’s hand in hers. “So practically minded, Flynn.”
We all nod, and I laugh. After the last exchange between us, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.
“So sound of mind and judgment.”
“And?” Flynn questions, his patience starting to wane.
“And I’m happy to report that, for the most part, you’ll remain this way as far as I can see into the future. There will be a night, though. One wild, unexpected night in a seemingly predictable life where you, my sweet boy, will make a pact with a stranger from which there will be great consequence.”
“A pact?” he asks.
“Oh yes,” Cleo answers with a growing smile. “A significant agreement that will affect your family a great deal.”
“Well, at least there seems to be a trend,” I note sarcastically. “We’re all going to have to pay for every one of your bullshit moves.”
“Any choice in the scheme of a family pool makes ripples, does it not, Remington?”
I roll my eyes, and Cleo smiles again.
“Great,” I say with a laugh. “So far, we’ve got a bet and a pact. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”
Cleo tsks me again with a click of her tongue on her teeth, and Ty shoves Flynn out of the chair to reclaim it. “Finally,” he breathes. “My turn.”
Ty shoves his hand into Cleo’s clasp, and she closes her eyes and hums as she “reads” whatever bullshit vibes Ty is giving off so she can spin a tale for him as well.
I sigh, rubbing at the mound of Taco Bell that’s starting to sit a little uncomfortably in my stomach, and wait.
When Cleo opens her eyes, they’re still a stark green, but somehow, they’ve taken on a hue of an overturned leaf in a thunderstorm as she looks hard at Ty’s face. It’s eerie, and I have to look away to get the food in my stomach under control as it roils a little bit.
Man, revenge bingeing food is never a good idea.
“There’s a kinship between you and Eve that’s unmistakable, child.”
“Eve?” Ty asks, jerking his chin back.
Jude turns to me to add, “Like from the Bible?”
I narrow my eyes at Cleo once again, but she’s too busy to care. She rubs at the top of Ty’s hand and rocks back and forth like a kid on a seesaw.
Jude, Flynn, and I exchange looks, and even Ty looks back at us over his shoulder with wide, panicked eyes, but none of us says anything.
It takes almost a full minute, but finally, Cleo continues. “Oh yes. The forbidden fruit will prove irresistible for you, my child, and I’m afraid you’ll take more than a bite. The secret of this indiscretion will bring turmoil and pain.”
“Oh, perfect,” I say sarcastically. “More good news. A big secret that’s going to cause horrible shit.”
“Yeah…uh…that doesn’t sound so good, Cleo,” Ty adds, markedly less excited about having a whacked-out stranger tell him what to expect in the future.
“Oh, but it is, child. The journey will be rife with unrest, but the end will bring you great joy and relief.”
“The end? You mean, like, death? Is that the relief? I’m dead?”
His frantic questions almost make me laugh. Almost.
“No, my dear,” Cleo says with an amused smile. “Not death. Not yet.”
Ty turns to look at us and gives a tentative thumbs-up over his shoulder that makes Flynn and Jude burst out laughing. I’m too busy to join in, though, staring down a far-too-pleased Cleo as she smiles at me.
“What?” I ask, interrupting their whooping. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Perhaps because your story is the most complicated of them all.”
You know what? Fine. I might as well get this over with so we can get the fuck out of here.
I nod to Ty and then jerk my head to tell him to move his ass. He does so, quickly, obviously not wanting to take another punch to the shoulder as added incentive.
Cleo reaches out a hand, her long fingers with red-tipped nails floating like a blowing flag in a gentle wind. It’s subtle but enticing, and I stare hard at the movement, my logic still making me resistant to the idea of giving in and letting her take my hand in hers.
“Remy,” she calls, using my nickname in a way that makes me flick my eyes up to hers. “Give me your hand.”
I take a deep breath, uncross my arms from my chest, and slowly place the palm of my hand against hers, twitching when she closes her fingers around the sides to take it in her grip.
She closes her eyes again, leaning back in her chair and looking to the ceiling, and the lids of her eyes start to shimmy like they’re vibrating.
It’s almost as if she’s dreaming in fast motion, the rapid speed of her thoughts making her eyes spasm back and forth.
I glance back to Flynn, and he puts a supportive hand to my shoulder. Relax, man. It’s just for fun , I can hear him repeating in my mind.
And he’s right. This is just for fun. It’s inconsequential at best.
I take a discreet deep breath and let it out again as Cleo opens her eyes, looks me dead in the center of mine, and says with the kind of gentleness I didn’t know was humanly possible, “You, Remington, my darling, I’m sorry to say, will experience great heartbreak.”
Great heartbreak? What the fuck?
A jolt of unease and shock hits me square in the chest, setting me into the backrest of the chair. My lips won’t move, my mouth won’t open, almost as though she’s taken control of my emotions and is forcing her trumped-up prophecies into the truth center of my brain.
“What?” Jude asks, his surprise evident, clearly not feeling the same lack of control that I am over his vocal cords. He chuckles a little bit, stating, “He’s getting married this weekend.”
Cleo nods, but there’s something in the way she does it that makes me angry. Because of it, I finally find my voice. “I am,” I state with firmness. “I’m getting married this weekend. So, I’d say your reading is total shit, wouldn’t you?”
Cleo inclines her chin, but it’s plain as day that she thinks she’s fucking placating me.
Like she already knew I’m getting married.
Like she already knew it, and still , she said I’m going to experience great heartbreak.
Rationality pumps the brakes and lets irrationality take the fucking wheel. Anger floods my veins, and I jump up from the chair, sending it careening back into my brothers and then clattering to the floor.
“Fuck this, and fuck you, Cleo,” I spit. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fucking done in here.”
I turn, shove through my brothers, and slam my way through the front door, out into the clammy New York summer air. I take deep gulps and put my hands to my knees to get control of myself.
What a load of hogwash… right?
I hate that my mind is wavering back and forth, like it subconsciously wants to believe what that charlatan just said.
But I refuse to let the woman get to me.
Because I know it’s total bullshit.
All. Fucking. Lies.
I’m marrying Charlotte this weekend, and anyone who says I’m not because of some horseshit connection to the future can kiss my ass.