Misty (4 page)

“Thanks, Johanna. I'll cherish this,” Misty said, her mind racing with ideas. She'd pretended to Brick that she no longer craved the limelight, but that wasn't true. She'd always been an attention whore and being disabled hadn't changed that.

“You can find online support groups to help you learn to live with your disability,” Johanna said, offering an encouraging smile.

“Mmm-hmm. Good idea,” Misty mumbled distractedly as she tinkered with the iPad and then logged online. She checked out her old website and was relieved that no one had bothered to take it down. She could keep the name: Misty's Place, but she needed to delete the nude photos of the guys who used to work for her and replace them with images of herself—past and present. Like the journalist had said, her facial deformity and paralysis would garner a lot of sympathy. Besides, she wasn't going to be disfigured for long.

Next, she checked her old PayPal account and broke into a smile when she saw the balance left over from her pimping days—a little over three thousand dollars. Not a fortune, but it was something she could put toward her makeover.

Her smile faded when she recalled the small fortune she had hidden inside a safe in her former home. That money could have gone toward her surgery if rapper and entertainment mogul, Smash Hitz, hadn't cleaned her out of all her possessions immediately after the tragedy. He'd wasted no time in getting his people to clear out and reclaim the mini mansion she'd been renting from him. That thief needed to be dealt with, but she decided to leave the past behind her. She was confident that moving on and working as a psychic was going to bring in untold fortune and fame.

Misty glanced up from the screen and asked Johanna, “Is your reporter friend telling readers to send the donations here at the hospital?”

“Yes, this is your home until the social worker finds a facility for you. After you're discharged, the hospital will forward your mail to your new address.”

“Nah, that's not gonna work. First of all, I'm not going to any facility for invalids. My man is gonna find a place for us, but I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure, Misty.”

Misty glanced at the hospital-issued phone that sat on a table next to her bed. “Would you call Sharon for me and hold the receiver up to my ear?”

“Not a problem. Why don't you use my cell? I'll put it on speaker.” Johanna entered the reporter's number in her phone and said, “Hi, Sharon. I'm in Misty's room and she'd like to speak with you.” Johanna set the phone on speaker and placed it on Misty's bed.

Not wasting anytime on pleasantries, Misty got right down to business. “I'm not going to be in the hospital much longer, and so I need you to change the address for the donations. I prefer that donations be sent directly to my PayPal account.”

“Oh, I didn't know you had PayPal set up, being that you only recently came out of a coma,” Sharon said.

“It's an old account, but it's still active.” Misty gave her the email address associated with the account and then said, “One more thing, I need copies of the photos you're using in the article. You can send them to the same email address. Okay?”

“Sure.” Sharon sounded a little uncertain. From her tone, she was somewhat taken aback by Misty's aggressive attitude, but Misty was too busy wheeling and dealing to care what the reporter thought of her. She gave a head nod to Johanna, indicating that she was through with the conversation. Johanna picked up the phone and sheepishly told her friend that she'd talk to her later. Then, she stared at Misty.

“What?” Misty asked, playing innocent.

“I didn't realize you were such a go-getter. The way you're handling your situation is commendable; I'm impressed.”

“I don't mess around when it comes to making money. And right now, I need a lot of it. How much do think it's gonna cost to get my face fixed?”

“You'd have to talk to a plastic surgeon about facial reconstructive surgery, but I'd estimate it's going to cost somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty or thirty thousand.”

“That's not a problem. I'll have that amount in no time,” Misty said with assurance.

“I like your confidence, but it might not be a good idea to get your hopes up. Getting that kind of money may take a lot longer than you expect.”

“You don't know me very well,” Misty commented, the finger of her impaired hand swiping the iPad screen with remarkable dexterity.

“The reading you gave was so fascinating, I'm eager to tell my friends to book a session with you after you're discharged and settled in your new place. Who knows, with the article and word-of-mouth recommendations, you may get more money than you need.”

“I'm banking on it. Anyway, thanks again for the iPad, Johanna. Having Internet access was exactly what I needed to start getting my life back on track. I've been down and out for so long, I forgot how much can be accomplished by simply logging online.”

•  •  •

Two sharp raps on the door drew Misty's attention away from the iPad. It was about time people started knocking instead of barging in like she was still in a coma with no say-so over the foot traffic that trampled in and out of her room. “Come in,” she said
with reluctance. She was busy researching plastic surgeons, and didn't feel like being bothered by any of the medical staff. In no hurry to have her blood drawn or to choke down the horse pills the nurses peddled to her several times a day, she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the intruder as she viewed the iPad screen.

“How you doing today, Miss Delagardo?” said a familiar male voice.

Misty looked up and smiled in recognition at the cleaning dude, pushing a mop and bucket. “Call me Misty; you don't have to be so formal.” Momentarily forgetting how unattractive she was, Misty looked him up and down appraisingly. He appeared to be in his early thirties, but had a shy, boyish quality that was appealing. “What's your name?” she asked softly.

Instead of sounding sexy as she'd intended, her words came out in a horrible lisp, due to the many missing teeth that had been knocked out by the tire iron of her assailant.

“Uh, my name's David,” the cleaning guy stammered. From the look he gave her, he was appalled by her flirtatiousness. His look of revulsion was an instant reminder that she was no longer pretty.

Yanked back to the reality of her grotesque appearance, she could have cried.
But I still have Brick, and it's not like I'm hard up for companionship,
she reminded herself. Nevertheless, getting male attention was something she'd always taken for granted. It was her birth right, and she felt entitled to appreciative looks from all members of the opposite sex.
This is fucked up! I don't know how much longer I can handle being ugly. I gotta start stacking money quick, so I can get my looks back.

“I suppose you've heard what people are saying about me.”

“I heard some talk, but I didn't press anyone for details. I do my work and mind my business.”

“Good to know. Actually, I'm glad you stopped in; I want to talk to you about something.”

He gestured for her to continue, and something in his hand flick was so smooth, confident, and sexy, she was momentarily mesmerized. David had the kind of sex appeal that you didn't see right away; it had a way of sneaking up on you.

Holding onto the handle of the mop, he leaned to the side, waiting for Misty to speak her mind. Her eyes traveled down to his slightly bowed legs, and she was briefly mesmerized. Bowlegged men were known to be well hung; she bet he was a beast in bed.
Oh, God, I want my life back. I can't deal with being a gruesome invalid; I want to be pretty, again!

“What did you want to talk to me about?” David prompted.

“As you know, I was in a coma…”

He nodded.

“And when I came out, I was blessed with the ability to prophesize.”

“I heard a little something about that, but I figured it was only a rumor.”

“It's true. Remember when you were standing close to me yesterday, you know, with the rose…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you feel a shock when your hand brushed against mine?”

“I vaguely remember a little spark.”

“That's what happens when I get inside your head. Or maybe the connection is much deeper. You know, maybe I'm connecting with your soul.”

David laughed uncomfortably. “My soul?”

Misty told him what she saw, describing his childhood bike in detail, even mentioning the black tape that patched a tear in the green seat.

David stared at her in amazement. He glanced around the room nervously when she began to talk about the stolen car he was a passenger in during his teens. “How do you know about that?”

“I see things.”

He seemed ready to bolt from her room. “This is creepy.”

“I also saw you and your girl waiting for the subway. You were carrying your baby daughter, who was dressed in a pink coat with white butterflies.”

“Where are you getting this information? My daughter's five now, but back when she was a baby, we had to get around on public transportation. My wife is going to be shocked when I tell her about this.”

“You're married?”

“Yeah, been married for six wonderful years.” He smiled with pride. “My beautiful wife is my best friend and my lover.”

A streak of irrational jealousy flashed through Misty. She wasn't trying to hear all this best friend and lover bullshit. She was accustomed to receiving compliments from men, not hearing them speak highly of their wives. In the past, she was so admired and idolized by the male species that other bitches didn't exist in a man's mind when he was in Misty's presence. It was insulting for this janitor muthafucka to be singing his wife's praises, as if Misty gave a damn about their relationship.

“What else did you see?” David probed impatiently.

I know this room-cleaning mofo is not trying to rush me. Obviously, he doesn't know that I used to be arm candy for A-list celebrities. I was such a bad bitch, niggas used to rent out their dicks and hustle for me.
Furious with David for not seeing past her temporary deformity, she decided to tell him his future in a tactless way.

“You sure you want to hear everything I saw?” she said in a taunting voice.

“Is it bad?” He rubbed his forehead nervously.

“It's not good,” she said ominously.

“What's gonna happen?”

“Do you know a light-skinned dude with dreadlocks?”

David shook his head. “No one comes to mind. But, what about him?”

“I saw you holding a gun to his head.”

“What! I don't even own a gun,” he said in indignation.

“I suppose you'll get access to a gun at some point in the future.”

“When is this vision supposed to happen?”

“That I couldn't tell you.”

“I don't know anyone who fits that description,” he said, shaking his head and frowning.

“Well, maybe your wife does,” Misty remarked snidely.

“My wife? How would she know him?”

“I get the impression this dude has something to do with your wife. You need to question her…you know, regarding her fidelity.”

David's mouth opened in shock. “Are you saying my wife is fucking around on me with another man?”

“I'm not positive, but that's the impression I got.”

“My wife would never—”

“Whatever,” Misty said dismissively. “I gave you the info; it's up to you how you use it. Don't be tempted to buy a gun, if you do, you're gonna end up on death row. My duty was to warn you.”

“You're fucking with me, right?” His desperate eyes pleaded with Misty to change her prediction.

“Sorry to have to rush you, but I'm extremely busy right now. You can mop in here later today, or better yet, come back tomorrow.”

“Are you serious? You can't hit me with this shit and dismiss me.”

“Why can't I? I can't help it if your wife has a man on the side.”

“My wife wouldn't do anything like that!”

“Believe what you want.” Misty glanced back down at the screen. “Do me a favor and close the door on your way out.”

David didn't budge from where he was standing. He took deep, angry breaths and glared at Misty, as if she'd put a hex on him. Finally, he pushed the wheeled mop bucket and exited her room.

Pleased with herself, Misty sniggered.
I dare another muthafucka to come up in here, praising another bitch while in my presence.

T
rinidad had been a beautiful paradise. Every morning, Anya woke up to the sounds of birds singing, seemingly, all around her. The different melodies soothed her briefly, but upon fully awakening, she was always struck by an overwhelming sense of loss. The saying that money can't buy happiness was definitely true. Without Brick, she felt incomplete. Her inheritance made life easier, but couldn't un-break her heart.