“But it says they do palm readings and tarot cards,” I protest, “You know there is no science involved, right? Just like a man’s penis can’t be judged by the length of his fingers or the size of his shoes. A deck of cards can’t predict your future. A wrinkle in your hand can’t determine how long you’ll live. You know all this, right?” My protest rings on deaf ears while she drags me through the door.
“Yes, Ten, I know this. We’re here for books. BOOKS, girl” she grins. Ronnie’s quest for paperbacks is unparalleled, you don’t get between her and her book boyfriends.
Chapter Four
Brains and beauty are a lethal combination. Good thing I only have one of them.
—Tensanne’s inner thoughts
Tensanne
THE SMELL OF patchouli mixed with dust, smacks my senses, making me sneeze. The store is overly warm, sweat starts to bead on my forehead but a peaceful feeling fills my heart, I feel as if I’m supposed to be here right now. Despite the dust and the creepy vibe, the store has a homey feel.
Along the front walls of the store are bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Each shelf filled with paperbacks.
Gasping, Ronnie rushes to the shelves, “Oh, my gosh,” she exclaims, “They have Indie Authors. Penelope Ward, Mia Sheridan, T. Torrest. I may have to live here, Ten,” looking to me, her face is glowing like a kid in a candy store. She starts grabbing spines from the shelves.
While I love to read, I’m a digital girl. I like my books in Kindle form. They take up less room that way, but Ronnie loves her paperbacks. She says the greatest smell in the world is the smell of a musty old book. While she is stocking up, I look around the store.
Past the bookshelves toward the back of the store is a round counter centered in the middle of the floral pattern, carpeted floor. I’m looking through the items sitting on top the counter when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A little old lady is sitting, hunched over, behind the counter.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” I say with a humorless giggle, jittery from her presence, I feel a strange vibe radiating from her.
She doesn’t respond, so I continue my perusal of the items on the counter. Key chains, small shining stones attached to leather string necklaces and bookmarks spread across the glass top. A brightly colored box of little bottles grabs my attention, ‘Potions’ it says on top the box. The labels read “Love Potion”, “Lust Potion, “Forget Potion, and “Youth Potion”. Several bottles of each kind filled with brightly colored liquids, promising to solve all of life’s woes.
“Those aren’t vwat you need, Tensanne Craig.”
My body stills, my breath catches. Did she just say my name?
“What? Did you say something, Ma’am?” I ask the lady sitting behind the counter, my voice trembling. I swear she looks like she’s dead. When she raises her head, her eyes meet mine. Fear flutters along my skin when I meet her cloudy gaze. Her eyes are covered in a white, hazy film preventing me from seeing the color they used to be. They have an eerie blue glow that makes my hair along my arms stand on end.
“I said, those aren’t vwat yous need, Tensanne.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask my voice shaking.
“I know lots of tings. I’ve been around for a long time. I’ve been waiting for yous to come into my store. I have just the thing for yous,” she states, slowly rising she grabs a walker and makes her way slowly to the back of the store.
As soon as her back is to me, I push my legs to move quickly back to Ronnie. “We need to go, NOW,” I squawk grabbing her elbow, pulling her toward the door. The words spill from my mouth so fast it sounds like “wetogonow”.
“Wait, Ten,” she balks “I haven’t paid for my books yet,” she grits her teeth, pulling her elbow from my grasp. “What’s wrong with you?”
“There’s a creepy old lady at the counter and she knows my name, Ron. I’ve never been in here and she knows my name,” I screech, panic filling my tone. “This store doesn’t feel right; we need to leave.”
“Oh, bullshit. Come on, let me pay for these and we’ll leave,” she says calmly, walking to the counter. Standing in place, I don’t want to go back to the counter, I stay where I am. “Come on, stop being such a pussy willow,” she huffs.
Heaving a sigh, my head falls forward, sagging my shoulders, I fall into step behind her, following her to the counter. Just noticing her arms are overloaded with paperbacks.
“Geesh, Ron. Got enough books?” I tease.
“Blasphemy! You can never have enough books,” she jokes with a wink carefully setting her load on the counter. She shrieks when the old lady rises from behind the counter, “Holy mother of Moses, where did you come from?”
Shoving the books to the side, the scary woman lays an ornate little black bottle, wrapped in aged lace on the counter, turning her hazy eyes on me, “Dis is vwat yous need,” she says with a thick accent. In my haste, I missed her accent earlier.
Can she see me? How does she know where I’m standing?
“Why, I thank you kindly, Madame, but I would just like to purchase these books,” Ronnie says, laying her on her southern charm, pushing the vial back toward the lady.
“’Tis not for yous, ’tis for zee other girl,” she says slapping Ronnie’s hand away, rolling the ‘r’ with her accent making it sound like a growl. “’Tis for Tensanne.”
“You know my girl, Ten?” Ronnie asks, rubbing
