Page 28 of Creole Kingpin
“The guy’s dead, so there shouldn’t be shit to worry about now,” I tell the interior of the beat-up Honda and its empty car seat. “Besides, even if he weren’t, no one is going to run me out of my own town over some stupid stitches.”
But the unease dogs me the entire time I drive, park the car, and then wheel the suitcases to my gate.
Something doesn’t feel right, but I’m not sure what it is.
That’s when I decide to visit Celeste again. Maybe a reading will ease my concerns.Or make them a million times worse.
Seventeen
Magnolia
“Ihad a feeling I’d be seeing you again today,chère.”
Madame Celeste’s husky voice welcomes me as I cross the threshold of her shop, the Reading Room, which is where she can be found most of the time when she’s not sitting at her card table out in front of Saint Louis Cathedral.
Sunshine from the doorway highlights dust motes floating in the air, and I feel instant relief as soon as I step inside. The spicy scent of her incense. The deep colors. The quiet sounds of chimes and tabletop fountains she has around the space. They soothe me.
I pride myself on staying firmly rooted in the here and now, but after living my entire life in this city, I can’t help but be drawn to forces I can’t see. Especially at times like this when restless energy and uncertainty have me all twisted up in knots.
There’s too much chaos in my brain, and I need to get back to being sharp and invincible. That’s the only way I know how to live. Anything else makes me feel weak and powerless, and that’s unacceptable.
“You always seem to know when I’ll be making a pass.”
She tsk-tsks at me. “Your energy is right strong. Easy to read. What happened?”
The stitches tug on my side with every step, and I consider for a moment whether I should tell her the whole truth. If there’s one thing for certain, it’s that Celeste didn’t have a damn thing to do with the man I sent to his death in an elevator car.
“I had a rough night.” The understatement of the century comes out clear and calm before I tell her what happened. Thankfully, there’s not a single waver in my voice.
To her credit, Celeste doesn’t react immediately, and I have incredible respect for her self-possession. Instead of launching into dozens of questions like anyone else would, she simply bobs her turban-covered head and turns to the side, indicating with one weathered hand that I should precede her into the back.
“Best go sit down. I’ll lock up so we’re not disturbed. This reading will be important.”
A tremor shoots through me as I take a step, as if my body is bracing for the gravity of what’s coming next. Like I have many times before, I make the short walk to the back room, ducking between the dangling curtain of fabric, beads, feathers, and whatever else Celeste has sewn into it.
The table is small and round, painted with a design that came from a vision she received once. She told me about it my first time back here, nearly twenty years ago.
Some people might not believe in all of this, but I can’t dispute the change in my energy as I settle on the velvet cushioned chair. Probably because Idobelieve. I believe there are forces we can’t see. There’s wisdom and guidance waiting for us, if we only ask. I can only hope they’re feeling generous today and can answer some of the questions swirling in my brain.
The front door chimes as Celeste flips the sign and locks us inside. The scent of roses and cedar grows stronger as she steps through the curtain and smooths the individual pieces of fabric before she pauses at a chest against one wall to retrieve her cards and whatever else she deems necessary for the reading. Before taking her seat, she pauses at the altar, lights a candle, and whispers a prayer. I listen carefully, but can’t make out all her quick broken French.
If it were my first reading, I’d assume she was exercising showmanship, but I know Celeste better than that. This is a ritual. Serious business.
When she finally sits down, I have to remind myself to take long, slow, deep breaths.
I can handle whatever is coming next. I always do. I always will.
Celeste hands me the well-worn deck. “Knock, and then think about your question as you shuffle, child.”
I do as she says while she arranges crystals on the table. I focus as I make the cards dance between my fingers, praying they’re able to provide guidance.
When I hand the deck back to her, Celeste meets my gaze.
“Now we begin.”
She deals the cards in the spread on the table facedown, then flips the first one over to represent me.The Empress.
With a smile, Celeste meets my gaze. “I think we both knew this was coming. Your power is directly related to your femininity. You know that. You feel that. Don’t forget it.”
