Future Imperfect

that freaking crazy? The two of us just these beautiful, messed-up psychic beings? How-”

“Yes, Ade. You told me. I’m very happy for you and I really hope the two of you wonderful junkies have a great future together.”

“Ouch.”

CHAPTER FIVE

ONE

Quail Telephonics

Denver, Colorado

To Whom It May Concern:

So, I’ve been getting these calls. Really it’s only been two, but they’ve been bizarre enough that I’m kind of getting stressed out about them. The first was roughly two weeks ago. Old, raspy-voiced guy on the other end of the line telling me that he saw me in a vision (!?) and that my life was in danger. Only, he didn’t seem that concerned about it. Freaked the hell out of me, if you’ll excuse my French. Wrong number, everyone said. Prank call, they told me.

But it happened again last night-Thursday, September 24-and it was the same guy. He knew my name. He said much of the same stuff as last time. That he saw me in a vision and that my life was in danger, only this time he went further, he said that what he saw scared him. Said it would be at a reservoir again. A battle royale, he said. Someone will die. He said, and I’m quoting here, that “what goes down is almost biblical.” So I started suspecting my mom had something to do with it, but that’s just paranoid thinking and I don’t want to be That Guy.

Anyway, why I’m writing is because I’m wondering if you’d be willing to help me out here. I don’t think this is anything for the cops to get involved in, but I’m hoping you can maybe track the calls. Maybe trace them for me? Caller ID it just shows up as “unknown” and star 69 doesn’t get me anything but what sounds like a fax line.

Thanks for your time. Let me know!

Ade Patience

TWO

Paige and I go to Rock Island.

It’s this dance club down on Fifteenth in LoDo and they’ve got a dark dance floor (tonight the DJ’s spinning ’80s industrial) and in the basement some pool tables and a few ragged chairs to kick your feet up in.

We head to the basement. I drink some Coke while Paige dances to one of her favorite songs, that super- annoying metal cover of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer,” and then we pulls chairs over to a corner and just sit and chat. Paige all sweaty and me with a knit cap pulled low over all my damage and Band-Aids.

It’s fun to be out just the two of us like old times.

I’ve made Paige a promise that I won’t hit my head and that I won’t try and find out what Jimi and Vauxhall are doing. “This is just us,” Paige says. “You need to take a break.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop me from proceeding to spill everything that’s been going through my head for the past few days.

She, of course, couldn’t be more happy to hear it all.

“Wait a sec, you’ve got some nasty old man calling you about some beach and maybe you drowning and you’ve also been seeing some gnarly cat in a Santo mask, also on a beach, telling you some sort of existential nuttiness?”

“Yeah, that’s basically it. And also, Vauxhall has powers too.”

“Right and I’m actually not surprised, in the movie, the movie of your messed-up life, that is exactly what would happen,” Paige says, “But going back to the other stuff.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe it’s some sort of sign? You know, maybe it’s like-”

“It’s someone screwing with me,” I say.

“Who?”

“Honestly, I don’t really care. I mean I do, but not really. This guy and the old man, they’re just symptoms of the same thing: looking too hard at what you don’t understand. You see that’s really why I haven’t gotten so upset about it. What I’ve learned from seeing the future is that you can’t interpret it until it happens. What I’m seeing is just a hint of something, just a tiny edge of something. You ever hear about the blind men and the elephant?”

“What? Is this a sex joke or something?”

“Don’t be nasty. It’s basically like this: Three blind men each put their hands on an elephant. One says, ‘This animal is like a snake,’ ’cause he’s touching the trunk. And another says, ‘This animal has wings,’ ’cause he’s touching the ears. And the last one says, ‘This animal is like a tree,’ because he’s touching the legs. Or something. Anyway, they all get it wrong because they can’t see the whole picture. Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it. But that’s a lame excuse.”

“No. It makes perfect sense. I’m not going to stress because-”

“Why a luchador mask?” Paige interrupts.

“Maybe he’s Latino? Maybe he just digs Santo?”

Paige looks very serious. “Could be that he’s a time traveler.”

I laugh. “No. Just supposed to look that way. Just supposed to look crazy.”

“How? I mean maybe there’s someone else out there jumping in on your visions? Your future? That is like so Star Trek it’s sick.”

“Nah. It’s just that I’m only seeing part of it.”

“Maybe it’s just that you don’t recognize him ’cause he’s young now. Or maybe under that mask he just looks like a total freak. Maybe like a cat-man or a Neanderthal. You know, something totally otherworldly?”

“Like you used to, Paige?” I laugh.

She elbows me hard. I wheeze.

“How about the old man calling you?”

“Irritating is all,” I say. “Super irritating. Sometimes these freaks find me. Remember me telling you about that one woman who called-” And I want to say more, but Jimi and Vauxhall come strolling out onto the patio and strike up a conversation with a dude with a Mohawk I feel like I’ve seen before.

I shoot Paige a look, mouth: I. Had. No idea. They’d. Be. Here. Seriously.

She just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Like boomerangs,” she says.

Vaux and Jimi don’t notice us, amazingly. They go over to the bar and somehow Jimi finagles them drinks, real drinks, and then they sit and talk and laugh with the Mohawk guy, who they also get drinks for, and then, when the Sisters of Mercy come on, they go out onto the dance floor. The way Jimi dances has me laughing in my soda. Actually, it’s so ridiculous I’ve got Coke bubbles coming out my nose.

He’s spinning around in his big black sweater. He’s got high-top sneakers on to boot and he’s wearing mascara. The scene could have been edited out of some goth teen movie. The worst is that he’s mouthing along with every song. Every. Song.

Paige, of course, reads his lips. “… sing this corrosion to me…”

And he whirls all dervishly.