Page 31 of The Friend Zone

“Apology accepted,” the woman nods. “Madame Svetlana will read your fortune to show you she is better than a piece of carbon fiber with a computer chip in it.” She spits out the last part as if the Mouth of Truth was personally offending of her divination arts.

“Thank you, but there’s somewhere we need to be?—”

She grabs my forearm, her dark brown eyes intense as she looks at me. “You’re lying, there’s nowhere you need to be. Don’t be scared.”

Her tone rubs me the wrong way. “I’m not scared.”

The thin, red lips of the older woman stretch in a knowing smile. “Then what’s the harm in trying? I’ll read your fortune for free, so if it’slame, like you said, it won’t cost you a cent.”

For a skinny, older woman, Madame Svetlana has one hell of a grip. “Fine,” I relent, since she doesn’t look like she’s going to let me go any time soon. “Let’s make it quick though, it’s getting late.”

Madame Svetlana shakes her head, her red curls bouncing with the action. “Come inside, welcome, welcome.” She opens the split in the tent with the hand that isn’t holding me in a viselike grip, causing the multitude of thin bangles that crowds her arm to jingle with the movement.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the fortune teller’s tent.

“Sit, sit.” Madame Svetlana gestures to the two chairs in front of a round table covered by a dark tablecloth with a motif of moons and stars. The bangles jingle again, their sound strangely soothing.

“We might as well get this over with,” I murmur, lowering myself in one of the two chairs. I would never admit it, but I feel relieved that Ryker followed me inside. He takes a seat in the chair next to mine, scanning the small, dim tent at the same time.

The space is exactly what I would picture as a fortune teller’s “professional space.” Aside from the round table with the stars and moons tablecloth, the only other decors are a bookshelf laden with ancient looking tomes, an antique trunk behind Madame Svetlana’s chair, and a chandelier with dangling crystals that catch the dim light provided by what must be eco lights.

Madame Svetlana is also the stereotypical fortune teller I’ve seen in countless movies. Her age could be anywhere between fifty and seventy, the woman’s bright red head is partially covered by a head scarf. Giant hoop earrings adorn her ears. The clothes she wears are what I would expect too; a silky black blouse, and a long, flowing dark purple skirt.

However the most striking feature of the fortune teller is her striking dark brown eyes that seem to see deep down in your soul when they’re set on you.

I bet that’s her best asset, she must have practiced that stare to perfection.

“You want to know your future,” it’s not a question.

I don’t tell her that, duh. It doesn’t take any supernatural powers to figure out that everyone who sits opposite her in her tent must want to know what their future holds.

Another thing I don’t tell her is that no, I don’t want to know my future. If she hadn’t practically dragged me in here, I would be looking at the view from the end of the pier right now.

But I keep my mouth shut or we’ll never get out of here. I just wanted to get a silly, three line horoscope from the same place Lakyn got one on her first date with Cash.

Like I was just telling Ryker, I do believe there are things that can’t be explained by science. But this is definitely not one.

“Give me your dominant hand,” Madame Svetlana orders. “Palm up.”

I do as I’m told, slightly amused by the serious expression on her face.

“The lines on your dominant hand,” the fortune teller says. “Say a lot about your present and your future. You’re a hard working, ambitious woman. You’ve already known great success despite your young age and there’s more, far greater potential for growth in the future. But you feel like lately you’ve lost your way. You’re still reeling after a betrayal by someone you loved and trusted.”

I’m surprised by how true her words ring at first, but then my rationality kicks in. I bet something like that can sound true to a lot of people. Madame Svetlana probably offers the same trite words to every unsuspecting tourist gullible enough to be attracted by the promise of knowing what the future has in store.

Now that the summer is over and the tourists are gone, she must be so bored that she’s spewing her trite lines for free.

“Don’t let your fear of being hurt again take over your life. If you open your heart, I see more love than you could ever imagine in your future.”

That sounds nice, but again it’s hardly original. It sounds like a manufactured prediction to make people happy and maybe get them to leave a tip.

“Thank you, Madame.” I smile, trying to take my hand back.

“Madame Svetlana is not done,” the woman’s tone becomes suddenly harsh, as her grip on my hand tightens. “I see something very interesting here.”

Her fingers have been hovering over my palm, following every line as she spoke.

“Very, very unusual,” her fingers touch my palm, her long, red nails tickling my skin.

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