Page 56 of Bad for You

I walk over to the huge crystal rock in the corner of the room. I have no idea what it does, but priced at fifteen thousand dollars, I would hope it could bring world peace.

“That’s an amethyst. The all-purpose stone,” says a voice I recognize as Aldo from behind me.

“For that price tag, I would hope its purpose would include cleaning my house and doing my laundry for the rest of my life.”

Turning around, I meet a smiling Aldo. He’s dressed in black pants and a white shirt. He’s all business, looking very professional in a place where Crocs and tie-dye shirts are usually the norm.

He reads my thoughts. “You don’t believe in this”—he searches for the right word—“mumbo jumbo?”

I laugh because if anyone else were to use that term, I would punch them in the face. “I guess I’m more of a practical man. I believe in anything that proves itself to me. If your crystals here can offer anything other than pretty colors, then sure, sign me up.”

Aldo mulls over my comment before bursting into laughter.“Mi piaci.”

I nod, pretending I have no idea Aldo just said he likes me.

“I have to go out for an hour. Think you can handle the place while I’m gone?”

Another test.

“As long as I don’t need to read anyone’s palm, I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“There’s freshly brewed herbal tea out back.”

“To do what with?”

“To drink,” Aldo replies, still laughing.

“And it’ll still be there when you get back.”

Herbal fucking tea.

Aldo leaves, trusting me with his merchandise because he knows I wouldn’t steal a thing in this store. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a soleus balancing charm?

I go behind the counter and see an old-fashioned till. Pushing a few buttons on it, I get the hang of it soon enough, but I doubt I’ll be making any sales. Because who the fuck would buy anything from here?

Poking my head through the red curtain, I can’t contain my chuckle when I see the small circular table covered by a black velvet tablecloth with a crystal ball atop it.

There’s got to be a catch.

I don’t even bother looking into the small kitchenette ’cause the herbal tea was enough of a hint that I won’t like anything in there.

The bell sounds, alerting me that someone just entered. I expect to see Aldo, revealing he was just joking about leaving me unsupervised, but it’s a woman in yoga gear carrying a tote with a picture of a cow and the slogan “Don’t have a cow, man” written across it.

She has in her earbuds so she doesn’t hear me when I emerge from the back. I stand behind the counter, watching her to see if perhaps she’s here for another reason besides the decor. She reaches for some wind chimes, which make a god-awful ruckus.

How the fuck does one find harmony in what sounds like a four-year-old bashing two glass bottles together while listening to Metallica?

“Do you have this but with tiger’s eye?” she asks, holding up some circular ornament.

When I look at her like she just spoke in Swahili, she removes an earbud. Perhaps she thinks I didn’t hear her, but I heard her loud and clear. I just don’t understand the question.

“I thought you’d be against animal cruelty.” When it’s her turn to look at me like I’ve just spoken in another language, I jut my chin out toward her bag.

She peers down at it, as if forgetting what bag she has. After a second, she giggles. “Not literal tiger’s eye. The stone, I mean.”

“Oh, my bad. Honestly, you’d have more idea than I would,” I reply blankly. “I only know that thing is an atheist or something.”

“Amethyst,” she corrects with a small smile.

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