Mexican Kimono (21 page)

‘Hmm. Maybe she can only “see” if she’s holding that person’s property.’

I truly worried about JJ sometimes. How the hell could she hold a person’s property? Lifting a house? Even an apartment would be a stretch. Beauty and brains – can’t have both in some cases. We continued down the cobblestone street holding hands and swinging our arms, like children do. There was no one around, and while I knew that should have concerned me, it didn’t. I liked the fact it could be me and JJ alone forever.

‘So, will you come to Paris?’

‘I, ah,’ what was with these boyfriends of mine wanting to whisk me away? Trips abroad with money no object? Oh wait, let me confirm that. ‘I really can’t do a budget—starving-artist tour of Paris, JJ. I have an aversion to bed bugs and stale bread.’

His laughter rang through the twilight. It sounded like a favourite song, familiar and uplifting. ‘I have some money put away for just this purpose. Don’t worry. We’ll do it in proper, fully fledged, high-maintenance Samantha-style with not a penny spared.’

‘OK, great!’ Now, how to tell him Timothy wanted to take us around the world?

‘So, is that a yes?’

‘Oh, look, here we are.’ Saved by the monstrosity standing before me.

Chapter 21

Fortune Tellers and Mexican Witches

‘Jesus. That is the scariest-looking mansion I’ve ever seen,’ JJ said.

I looked at the foreboding castle-like structure standing before me. It was like something out of a fairy tale. An evil fairy tale. The garden was a mass of brown weeds and dead grass. I felt cold just looking at it.

I held JJ’s hand a little tighter. ‘Are you sure this is number thirteen?’

‘Yes, it says so over there.’ He pointed to a number plaque that was hanging loosely from the side of the front door.

‘This place is super-creepy,’ I said.

JJ nodded. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

We opened the rusty gate, which made the appropriate horror movie squeak, and continued up the path to the front door. JJ rapped the wrought-iron circle knocker covered in cobwebs.

‘Running a business from home, you’d think she’d make the place a little more presentable,’ he whispered. Everything was dead, broken, dirty or caked with cobwebs.

‘Especially such a huge house. She must have a pile of money if she can afford something this big in this suburb,’ I agreed. We were close to Cottesloe beach and properties around here were worth their weight in gold. Athena’s house was six times larger than the standard in the beachside suburb. It was a shame she’d let the place go. We didn’t have time to confer as a gust of wind whipped my hair back and there she stood in all her fortune-teller glory. An imposing woman with piercing grey eyes.

‘You must be Samantha,’ she said, reaching out to shake my hand. Her grip was firm like a man and, instead of shaking it, she just held it steady and squinted at me. I couldn’t help but notice she smelled like mothballs. I tried very hard to hold my breath, but thought she’d see my nostrils flaring, so eventually gave up and exhaled a huge expulsion of pent-up air.

‘Gosh,’ she said, ‘a little early for hazelnut liqueur, don’t you think?’ Oh my God. She knew that from holding my
hand
? She was good. ‘I’ve had a very stressful day as you can imagine. It’s medicinal rather than social,’ I explained.

‘I see,’ she said. ‘Come in, come in.’

We walked into a huge entrance hall with grey slate floors. The walls were a darker shade of grey, with the odd exception of slightly lighter window frames that stopped the monotony of the darker grey. This was literally fifty shades of grey, without the so-called mummy porn. The grime on the windows stopped most of the natural light from entering, which fitted with the whole ‘this place is a prison’ look she had going on.

‘We’ll do the reading in the library. There are no distractions there.’ We trundled behind like obedient sheep. I was suddenly sure Athena was a hired assassin and I was walking purposefully towards my death. I imagined the library decked out with tools of mass destruction. Hair crimpers, leg warmers, AB King Pro’s, that kind of thing.

‘Here we are,’ she led us into a huge room with four deck chairs and a dead plant. I didn’t trust her one little bit. ‘If this is the library, where are the books?’ I asked. JJ looked at me in consternation. I think he was worried he was about to be impaled with the leg of a piece of outdoor furniture too. ‘Yeah, where are the book shelves?’ he asked, all detective-like.

‘I lost them in the divorce, I’m afraid.’ Hmm, sounded strange to me. Who took bookshelves in a divorce? I bet her husband was buried around here somewhere.

She motioned to the deck chairs. ‘Sit, sit. Samantha, give me your handbag.’ I handed it over begrudgingly. It was white Saba and I doubted the cleanliness of her gnarled hands.

We sat down. JJ moved his chair closer to mine, met my gaze and winked. Athena looked at us and said, ‘Now, focus please. I need you both to close your eyes and think of a white light surrounding you. It’s a warm white light and it’s full of love. You’re safe. The white light of love is swirling around you.’

We giggled, which Athena took exception to.

‘Focus, children!’

Being called children only added to our mirth, and our giggles turned into gales of laughter.

‘OK, you can just pay me and leave,’ she said.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ I said. ‘I laugh when I’m nervous.’

‘I can’t switch the vision off when it starts, you know. If you want me to help, you need to be quiet and focus.’ I got it the first time she told me off. Don’t you hate people that make the same point repeatedly, just worded differently?

‘Yes, yes. I’m focusing as we speak,’ I said. JJ was staring at the floor. I think he was afraid of her. He had an incident with a school headmistress once, so anyone older and school teacher-ish frightens him. He reverts to age ten. It’s really quite funny to watch.

Athena closed her eyes and strangled my handbag like it was her long-lost husband. I feared for my iPhone with all that pressure. She started humming and then broke into a Japanese chant, which took me by surprise. I really had to try awfully hard not to laugh. Her face was twitching like Ben Cousins after a five-day bender. The Japanese chanting suddenly stopped and Athena opened her eyes and stared at something above my head. She sat silently, shaking my handbag ever so slightly. Probably trying to ‘see’ how much she could get away with charging me for this theatrical production. Getting a little bored, I glanced over at JJ, who had a look of fear etched firmly on his face. He really needed some therapy.

Athena blinked rapidly for about ten seconds and then said, ‘I know who cursed you.’

‘Well, that’s great,’ I said. ‘That’s what I’m here for. So, who is it? Kylie?’

‘No, it’s a man.’

‘Hmm. Is he dressed like a drag queen and called Betty Boo-b?’

‘No. I see horses around him. He writes down numbers. He drinks and smokes Camels.’

‘He smokes camels? How cruel!’ The things people do to defenceless animals. I was beginning to see my mother’s point.

‘The brand of cigarette, not the animal,’ she said, while suffering an unfortunate eye-rolling moment.

‘Oh, thank God for that. So, I still have no idea. Someone who rides horses and counts?’

‘She said she sees him around horses and numbers,’ said JJ.

‘He writes down the horse numbers that he gambles on at the track!’

Clarity dawned on me. ‘Oh my God! It’s Beer Belly Bob! He’s the only gambler I know.’

‘He is overweight. He has more planned for you. He seems to think you ruined his life. I keep seeing a calendar with the year 2030 written on it,’ said Athena, groggily.

‘How could I have ruined Bob’s life? I’ve only just met him!’

Athena frowned. ‘His name isn’t Bob. I’m not getting a B. It starts with W.’

‘Great. So now I need to look for another chronic gambler who drinks and smokes Camels and wants revenge for something I did?’

‘Yes. I keep seeing the year 2030. Does that mean anything to you?’

I snatched my bag back and wiped hopelessly at Athena’s grimy fingerprints. Another handbag down the drain.

‘How much do I owe you?’ I asked abruptly.

‘Two fifty. You know, don’t you? It has something to do with that year.’

I heard a sharp intake of breath and a pig-like squeal that turned out to be mine, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ I inclined my head to JJ, who shoved a fistful of dollars at her while I stomped down the dim hallway. JJ caught up with me, pulling my arm to get my attention.

‘What is it, Sam? What spooked you?’

‘Nothing. We need to get this curse reversed and then I’ll go to Paris with you.’

‘Who is it, Sam? I know you know.’

I picked up the pace and even considered running for a moment until I remembered who I was. Jesus, nearly made a huge faux pas in front of JJ, of all people.

‘You’d better not have anything to do with this, JJ, or I’ll cut off all your hair when you’re sleeping.’ I let myself out without a backward glance. Fumbling in my bag, I found the piece of paper with José’s sister’s address. I looked up to ask JJ how to get there and noticed he was missing. Oh, God. If he was stuck in the tunnel of terror, he was on his own. I wasn’t going back in there for anyone. I quickly rang his mobile. He answered on the fourth ring, ‘Yes?’

‘Where the hell are you?’

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean, why? We are sort of in a rush here to save me, the world, and life as we know it.’

‘I’m not sure I can help any more.’

‘What! This is about the hair thing, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ he said. See what I mean about him and his hair? Threaten it and he’s missing like my Cayman Island trust account.

‘OK, I won’t cut off your hair. I just feel a little vulnerable and want to be sure you have nothing to do with this.’

‘Of course I don’t! Tell me what 2030 means and we’ll sort it out.’

‘Let’s visit the Bruja first and see what she has to say.’

JJ appeared by my side. I smiled gratefully as we hung up our mobiles. He pointed to a street in the distance. ‘We go up that street there and look for a caravan park,’ he said.

‘A caravan park? She lives in a caravan?’

‘I guess so. Why?’

‘Doesn’t seem very auspicious.’

‘I don’t think she’s in the auspicious business, somehow.’

We spotted the caravan park as soon as we turned into the entrance of the street. It was rundown and full of older style vans. We walked past a battered sign on the gate saying ‘Welcome to Paradise’. People milled about near their ‘homes’.

Most of the loiterers looked retirement age. One guy tipped his cap at us and said hello, a lit cigarette stuck to his lip, bobbing with each word. I averted my gaze.

‘Here it is,’ JJ said, pointing to a metallic purple caravan.

I knocked on the door, hoping she didn’t have any sociopathic tendencies like her scary brother, José.

‘Who is it?’ a quiet voice asked.

‘How many people have booked to get a curse bloody reversed at six today?’ I said to JJ sarcastically.

‘Shh. She’ll hear you!’

I started to think the world had gone a little mad. How had these crazy people suddenly taken over? ‘It’s Samantha, your six o’clock.’

The door opened a fraction, and a beady black eye stared out. ‘Samantha Bevilaqua?’

‘Yes.’ Far out. A stickler for details this one.

‘Enter. My name is Kiki. Do not touch my pussy.’

‘Ah? OK.’ I said. I was clearly not dressed in my ‘I’m lesbian and proud of it’ outfit and JJ was obviously gay, but I guess if you lived in a two by three space you had to have boundaries.

We sat on a lilac-coloured vinyl seat that doubled as a bed. I felt claustrophobic and in danger of being decapitated by the various chimes, feathers and dried leather hanging from the ceiling of the caravan. I hoped it was leather from a cow, not a … best I didn’t think too hard about the assortment of weird threatening to rain down on me.

She sat opposite us, stroking a pale-pink cat. It was one of those furless sphynx felines that looked seriously in need of a decent meal. Kiki’s eyes bored into mine while I sat uncomfortably, trying not to avert my gaze. I had my hand on my pepper spray in my pocket just in case she turned into some knife-wielding maniac.

She looked like a sweet, young Mexican woman. She had long black hair tied into a plait that hung down her back. Small black eyes, not evil-looking at all like José’s. She wore a cheesecloth skirt, which did bother me because it was very similar to the type my mother wore and Mum was at least thirty years older than Kiki. I almost said something to her about it, but remembered I can’t help everyone.

‘I will light some candles and perform the reverse ritual,’ she said in her unusually quiet voice. ‘I need you to be very still. Don’t make a sound or it won’t work. Do you know who put the curse on you?’

‘Yes, I have a fair idea,’ I said. ‘When we reverse it, what will happen to him?’

‘Whatever he wished for you will revert back to him with as much force as it had with you, sometimes even more.’

Hmm. Ogres. Fire. A car accident. Financially ruined. Status, gone.

‘What if it’s impossible for half of those things to happen? He’s already financially ruined and I can’t see him being involved in a car accident where he is.’

‘He wouldn’t have wished those things specifically on you. He would have cursed your happiness. The things you relish to be taken away. Like financial freedom or appearance and popularity, in your case.’

‘Oh, I see. OK, let’s get this started. I mean, I just hope it’s not too bad for him when we reverse it that’s all.’

‘Ah. It’s someone you love. He will need to see the Brujeria who cursed you in the first place and remove the curse and he’ll be fine.’

It was all so technical. Kiki lit four red candles that were placed in a square around us. She sprayed the air above our heads with some horrible-smelling water. ‘Close your eyes and keep very still,’ she said.

I felt a chill as soon as she spoke. Goosebumps broke out all over my body. She started a very low, indecipherable mumble. The candles flickered as her voice became louder. Eventually, we could hear her. ‘Unwanted curse, please reverse.’