Chapter 2
TARA
Mickey's Deli in the theater district isn't a fancy place. It's kitschy and retro. Yet for two years, it's been a fun place for me and my besties to hang out.
Mickey's is always a wild scene, with its post-theater crowd mixing with late-night partiers.
It's a plain bagel, perfectly toasted, with a swirl of whipped cream on top. A single pink candle flickers in the center.
"Happy birthday, darling," says Zaza, leaning back in the cracked red vinyl booth. "Go ahead and blow out the candle already."
"What are you going to wish for?" asks Keesha.
"That's a secret," I say, closing my eyes. As I suck in air to blow out the flame. But the image of Cameron Crow comes to mind.
I recall the way our eyes met.
Our lips, just a whisper away from a kiss.
My only wish is to meet him again.
The server approaches with the bottle of Prosecco Zaza ordered and pours the fizzy liquid into three glasses.
"Tell me all about the VIPs at your club tonight,” Zaza demands, her glossy red lips already parted in anticipation of a juicy story.
Before I can respond, a quirky woman appears at our table looking like she raided a Broadway costume shop. Her gold headband drips faux jewels, and she speaks with a fake fortune-telling accent.
"Ladies, good evening. I am the Great Luna," she says, her gold bracelets clinking together. "Would you like your tea leaves read?"
"Yes!" Zaza says immediately. "Read the fortune of our friend Tara. It's her birthday."
"No, thank you," I say quickly.
"It's your twenty-first birthday, darling," Zaza insists, already pulling out a chair for the woman. "Live a little."
Luna settles in with a theatrical flourish. "May I see your teacup, madam?" Reluctantly, I slide the cup across the scarred table.
She makes a show of examining the dregs, tilting the cup this way and that before pouring out most of the remaining liquid with a dramatic flourish.
Keesha and Zaza lean in to watch Luna peer into my cup as if she's reading the secrets of the universe. To me, it's just soggy tea leaves clinging to chipped white porcelain.
"What do you see?" Keesha asks, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
"I see..." The fortune teller looks up, her piercing eyes locking onto mine. "I see you on a stage! Under the bright lights!"
My hand flies to my locket as I gasp.
Zaza snorts, nearly choking on her Prosecco. "Every girl in Manhattan wants to be on stage! The way you're dressed, I pegged you for the real deal."
"But it's true," Luna insists, her gaze never leaving mine. "I see you on stage. You are singing in a very high voice."
Keesha sits up straight, suddenly alert. Both my friends are superstitious, but Keesha’s family is from Ethiopia. She takes supernatural beliefs to another level.
"Go on," she urges, turning to Luna.
"I see a distinguished crowd applauding you," Luna continues, her accent thickening with conviction. "You will be a great success."
"I'm not paying for career predictions." Zaza waves her hand dismissively. "Tara's 21 tonight! Tell us about her love life."
"Hey," I say, "I'm the one who should ask the questions. It's my teacup!"
Luna ignores us both, peering deeper into my cup. "In the past, you were hurt. Someone made you afraid to open your heart. That fear lingers still."
Her blue eyes search mine for answers.
My stomach drops like I've been punched. The deli noise fades to background static.
"Zaza, Keesha, thanks for this birthday treat. But that’s enough."
"There's more," Luna says, peering even more closely at the dregs in the cup. "A man will soon appear. He's tall, dark, and handsome. Women all over the world want him. ..."
"Now you're talking!" says Zaza, rubbing her hands together. "A real Prince Charming, right?"
"A good man," Luna agrees, turning back to me. "He will enter your life shortly. Maybe you already know him. He'll fall in love with you at first sight. But then—"
Luna sees something in the cup that makes her gasp. She looks up quickly. "But something happens. I can't see exactly what. But his initial attraction turns to hate."
I nearly choke on my sparkling wine. "What?" I sputter. "My future lover hates me?"
"Yes. He hates you at first. But then—"
"Love, hate, love. What nonsense," Zaza sighs, her faith in mysticism clearly wavering. "So much for out-of-work actresses." She hands Luna a fistful of cash and motions for her to leave.
"Total fake fortune teller," I say, "But it's the thought that counts."
"Don't speak so quickly, Tara," Keesha says thoughtfully. "You're studying opera. And that Luna woman said she saw you singing on the stage. That's a hard thing to guess."
"That means Luna may have foreseen Tara's Prince Charming too," says Zaza, lifting her glass. “Let's drink to that."
I force myself to roll my eyes. But secretly, I'm intrigued by the idea of this man.
We toast.
"Thanks for taking me out, guys. You're the best friends I have in New York."
"We're the only friends you have in New York, California girl!” Zaza cackles, signaling for another bottle of Prosecco. "And we're totally bummed you're going away for two months."
"Working at the Patriot Hotel's going to be amazing, though," I say, trying to shift the focus from prophecies to reality. "Historic Nantucket landmark, celebrity hangout. The tips should be incredible."
"Just don't come home with some smelly fisherman," Keesha says, wrinkling her nose.
“That was the old days. Now, Nantucket is loaded with billionaires during the summer months,” Zaza says. "Be sure to bring a spare one home for me."
We all laugh.
"I'll do that, Zaza," I say, raising my glass.
But as the bubbles hit my tongue, I think of Cameron's cobalt eyes, the electricity when our hands touched, and the strange prophecy.
What if that fortune teller is right?