up the stairs to the second floor. The building was old and looked tired, but was clean. He was waiting in an open doorway and threw his arms around her, grinning broadly. He was a tall, handsome man in his early forties with electric blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. And despite the shabby address, he was somewhat well known around town.
“Happy birthday!” he said, hugging her close to him as he smiled with a look of genuine pleasure to see her. She pulled away, scowling at him unhappily.
“Oh shut up. Some asshole on the radio just told the whole goddamn world how old I am today.” She looked on the verge of tears as she marched into the familiar living room, where several large Buddhas and a white marble statue of Quan Yin sat on either side of two white couches with a black lacquer coffee table between them. There was a distinct smell of incense in the room.
“What do you care? You don’t look your age! It’s just a number, darling,” he reassured her as she tossed her coat onto the couch.
“I care. And I
“Don’t be silly,” Alan said as he sat down on the couch opposite her. There were two decks of cards on the table. Alan was said to be one of the best psychics in New York. She felt silly coming to him, but she trusted some of his predictions, and most of the time he cheered her up. He was a loving, warm person with a good sense of humor, and a number of famous clients. Valerie had come to him for years and a lot of what he predicted actually came true. She started her birthday with an appointment with him every year. It took some of the sting out of the day, and if the reading was good, it gave her something to look forward to. “You’re going to have a fabulous year,” he said reassuringly as he shuffled the deck of cards. “All the planets are lined up for you. I did an astrological reading for you yesterday, and this is going to be your absolutely best year.” He pointed to the cards. She knew the drill. They had done this many times. “Pick five and place them face down,” he said, as he put the deck down in front of her, and she sighed. She picked the five cards, left them face down, and Alan turned them over one by one. There were two aces, a ten of clubs, a two of hearts, and the jack of spades.
“You’re going to make a lot of money this year,” he said with a serious expression. “Some new licensing agreements. And your ratings are going to be fantastic on the show.” He said pretty much the same thing every year, and so far he’d been right. But in her case, that was easy to predict. Valerie’s gracious living empire was sound.
“What’s with the jack of spades?” They both knew she’d wanted a man in her life since her last relationship ended. She had been divorced for twenty-three years, and had devoted more time and energy to her career than to romance. But she missed being involved with someone, and was disappointed that no one had turned up in years. She was beginning to think that no one ever would again. Maybe she was too old. She certainly felt it now.
“I think one of your lawyers might retire,” Alan said about the jack of spades. “Give me five more.”
This time the king of hearts showed up, and the queen of diamonds. Alan smiled.
“Well, that’s interesting. I see a new man,” he said, smiling wider, and she shrugged, unimpressed.
“You’ve been saying it for three years.”
“Patience, darling, patience. It’s worth waiting for the right one. I like this man. He’s important, powerful, very tall, and good-looking. I think you’re going to meet him through your work.” Valerie laughed at that.
“Not in my business. Any guy involved in decorating, lifestyle in the home, or the wedding industry is not likely to be straight. I’m going to have to meet him somewhere else.”
“Maybe he’s one of your producers,” Alan said, concentrating on the cards. “I definitely think you’re going to meet him through work.” He had said that before, and no one had appeared. His other predictions were often true, but lately not about men. “I think your daughter might have a baby this year,” he said, turning over the queen of diamonds and handing her the deck again. Valerie smiled and shook her head.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. She works harder than I do. She doesn’t even have time to date. She’s not married, and I’m not at all sure she wants a husband or a child.” Nor was Valerie anxious to be a grandmother — that was definitely not on her wish list or her radar screen, and fortunately it was not on her daughter’s either. Alan was off on that one.
“I think she might surprise you,” Alan said, as Valerie turned over five more cards and the reading continued. It was similar to what he always predicted for her, success in business, a new man on the scene, and an assortment of small warnings about upcoming projects and deals and people she worked with. But this time the new man came up several times. Alan was adamant about it, and Valerie sighed as she listened. People always told her that she couldn’t have everything, a fabulous career and romance in her life too. Life just didn’t work that way. No one got everything they wanted, they said, and Valerie hadn’t either. Like most people, her success hadn’t come easily, and in her case she had wound up alone. The two of them chatted as she continued to turn over the cards, and Alan told her what he saw ahead for her. Most of it was good. Her health wasn’t a problem, he said, and as usual her ratings would soar. He saw some kind of production deal in the Far East, possibly a line of furniture, that would be advantageous for her, and it was obvious as he read for her that he genuinely liked her. She was honest, direct, and fair. Some people said she was tough, but it was mostly a standard of excellence that she applied to herself and everyone else. Valerie drove herself and everyone around her hard. She hadn’t gotten to the top of her field by accident. She had crawled up the mountain for thirty-five years, with sheer hard work and a certain kind of genius and unfailing instinct about what she did. Alan admired her for that. He loved how straightforward she was. She didn’t play games, or hide. What you saw was what you got. And he didn’t need the cards to know how upset she was about her age today. Valerie said several times that sixty just seemed so goddamn old, and now everyone was going to know. He could see that the very thought of it made her want to cry.
As Valerie listened to Alan’s reading in his West Side apartment, Jack Adams literally crawled across his bedroom floor with tears in his eyes. He had never experienced pain like this in his life. Never. Well, maybe once or twice while playing professional football in his youth, but not since then — and surely not in recent years. He felt like someone had planted a tomahawk in his back. The shooting pains went straight up to his brain and down his legs. He couldn’t stand up or walk. He made it to the bathroom and pulled himself up slowly, clutching the sink. He grabbed his cell phone off the counter and sat down on the toilet seat with a scream.
“Oh my God,” he said, as he found the number in his phone. When he saw himself in the mirror, he looked like he’d been shipwrecked, and felt a thousand years old.
Jack had been to a Halloween party the night before and had met an incredible girl there at the bar. He’d been wearing a Superman costume, and she had been Catwoman, wearing skintight patent leather, hip boots, and whiskers. She had an unforgettable body, and when she took the mask off, her face wasn’t bad either. She said she was a model, but he’d never heard of her. She was twenty-two years old, with dyed jet-black hair and green eyes. He was six feet four and she had been only a few inches shorter than he was. And the sex they had later when they got back to his apartment was beyond acrobatic. They’d both had a fair amount to drink, and he couldn’t remember having that much fun in a long time. She was typical of the girls he went out with, always in their early twenties, often models, sometimes actresses, and usually any pretty girl who crossed his path. Jack had never had trouble meeting women, or seducing them. Girls had been throwing themselves at him since his teens, more than he knew what to do with at times. And like candy, he could never resist them, and Catwoman had been no exception. The only thing different about her was that the last time he made love to her the night before, something in his back had snapped and he couldn’t move. He had let out such a terrifying shout of pain that she had offered to call 911, but he was mortified and refused, and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did. He had suggested she go home, and she had. And he had spent the rest of the night in agony, waiting to call his chiropractor, which he was doing now. The receptionist answered and promised to get the doctor immediately when she heard that Jack Adams was on the line. He sounded terrible even to her. And he said it was an emergency.
The man who answered Jack’s call sounded jovial and happy to talk to him. Jack Adams had been a patient for a dozen years. “What’s up, Jack? My nurse said it was urgent.”
“I think it is,” he said in barely more than a whisper. Even talking hurt. Breathing hurt. He had visions of himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. “I don’t know what the hell I did last night. I think I pulled a muscle in my back or something. I may have torn a ligament. I can hardly walk.” He could see himself paralyzed. The pain was beyond belief. He had almost thought it was a heart attack at first. Whatever it was, it was killing him.
“How’d you manage that, or do I want to know?” Frank Barker teased him. He knew how active Jack’s sex life was. They laughed about it at times, but Jack wasn’t laughing now. He was on the verge of tears, and the chiropractor could hear it.
