Even as I thought that, I rolled my eyes.“Why, Chi? What exactly do you have to go back to? A shitty sliverof an apartment and a crappy fortune-telling job at the localItalian bistro?”
Yes. That was my life – hopeless,going nowhere, andessentially worthless.
Such little hope, mygrandma’s disembodiedvoice repeated in my mind once more.
“Piss off,” I snarled at the memory as I stalkedforward.
Mistake. I kneed something and plowed headfirst onto the carpet. I didn'troll, but rather ground my face into the rug, chafing my cheek andtearing my jacket.
“Goddammit,” I spat as I reached a hand out, found the wall, and pulled myself up.
Hobbling, I pressed forward, about aspissed off as a girl could be.
Though I told myself I should be thankfulthat my grandmother had given me this house, the will hadn’t goneto probate yet, and for all I knew, dear old grandma Joan probablyhad debts as high as the Empire State building. This house wouldbe sold,and I'd be left with nothingbut a bruised knee and a bill for flying halfway across thecountry.
Feeling petulant, I kicked the wall as Ifelt my way into a room.
The room seemed large, and as I widened my eyes to let inas much light as I could, I figured out it had to be some kind ofsitting room. There was the shape of a sofa, a bay windowaround the front, curtains, and otherparaphernalia.
All I cared about was the sofa.
“Bingo,” I muttered as I carefully made my way towards it,knee still smarting. I would kick myself if I’d done anything toit. The last thing I could afford right now was a medicalbill.
I managed to reach the couch withoutfurther incident and flopped down onto it.
Another big mistake.
Something hissed and squirmed out fromunderneath me, scratching me right across the thigh.
I shrieked and jerked back as I saw theunmistakable shape of a frazzled cat skitter across the room. Itstopped in front of the bay windows, jumped up onto the windowledge, and pressed itself against the glass before turning to meand hissing again with extreme disapproval.
“Aiya, grandma had a cat. Why did no onebother to tell me that grandma had a frigging cat?”I spat as I clutched thescratch along my thigh. Pressing my fingers together, I felt blood.The little prick had gotten me good.
Baring my teeth and hissing back at it, even though Iusually liked cats, I felt around the couch and this time checkedit meticulously before I allowed myself to sit.
An enormous bolt of lightning suddenlyflashed in the street outside, illumination spilling through thebay window and blasting into the room like a shot from a flashgun.
Immediately afterward the largest clap ofthunder I'd ever heard hurtled through the room, shaking the walls,shuddering up the floor, even jittering my teeth in myskull.
Unashamedly, I clapped my hands over myears and screamed again.
I expected the cat to bolt from where it wassitting, to skitter across the floor, and to throw itself into thehallway to find some nice bed to hide under.
It didn't. It just sat there. And as theillumination abated, I saw a flash of its eyes.
It was watching me.
“All right, you creepy prick, I'm sorry Isat on you,” I mutteredat it, not caring that my voice shook with nerves – after all, itwasn't like the cat could judge me and there was no-one else towitness my fear.
Still rubbing the spot where it hadscratched me, I settled back against the sofa.
At least it was comfortable.
Pushing around with prying fingers, I found a cushion and curledup.
“Oh crap, you’ve got to work,”I reminded myself with agroan.
I plucked my phone from my pocket, thebling pink-and-white Hello Kitty case scratching against the sopping wet fabric of myjeans.
I rubbed my head and groaned again, fingerspausing for a single second before I unlocked my phone.
I needed the money, right?
Yeah, I’d ostensibly just inherited thisplace, but I still needed liquid cash.
So I crumpled forward, pinned my elbow on myknee, and started furiously texting.
Though the method of fortune-telling hadchanged in recent years, the content was still the same.
While I worked for an Italian bistroreading palms and cards, I got supplemental work from onlinefortune-telling sites.
I had a profile on all the major socialnetworking sites. My online profile was Madam Veritas. And I likedto think I was getting a name for myself.
“Alright, what have we got here?”I thumbed along the automatedmessage. “Looking to find love, ha? Aren’t we all.”
Same old stuff. Some poor soul goingthrough troubles turns to a fortune teller to figure out whathappens next.
My ma had a tried-and-true method.
Every fortune consisted of three things –the general, the specific, and the common sense.
“Dear Anna,” I texted, “you will find luck on Tuesdays. Be onthe lookout for any opportunities. You must avoid traveling onpublic transport for a week. And you need to joinFetch Me aHeart – a dating sitewhere your dream man is just waiting for you.”
I always sent clients toFetch Me aHeart – we had afinancial agreement. They ran our ads – we referred business backto them.
I hesitated before sending the text. Did Ireally need this job? It would get me like three bucks. And to behonest, this wasn’t the best fortune I’d ever written. Not to sayit wasn’t true – it was totally false. I couldn’t read the future.I could, however, spin a very convincing statisticallie.
I rubbed my closed lips over my teeth as Ibattled with my tiny scrap of a conscience.
I looked up as I still pondered whether to ignore the fortunerequest, let alone send this abysmal reply, and I noticed theoutline of the cat.
It was still watching me.
“Christ, you’re creepy,” I admonished.
I hit send.
Three bucks in the bank.
I turned my phone off just as the batterydied.
I stuck it securely under thecouch, tuggedthe cushion back up, and triedto close my eyes.
Just before I did, there was another flashof lightning.
It lit up the cat.
It was still sitting there and staring atme.
Maybe it was just my overactiveimagination, but I swore it shook its head like it was disappointedin me.
Such little promise.
Those three words jumped into my head andlodged between my eyes like
