The Seer Renee (15 page)

He helped me to my feet and got a
good grip on my arm as we began walking. As I suspected, most of the
congregation and some of the spectators felt the presence of the Loa. Some were
even deeply moved by what they felt.

"Mambo Renee, I know I saw the
serpent on your arm moving, and I felt the Loa's presence. It was the most
beautiful feeling I've ever had—like I had been washed clean..."

"Mambo Renee, I've never been
to a service where there was so much energy..."

"Mambo Renee, for an instance
you looked like you became a flame..."

By the time we left, I was feeling
normal. From my discussions with people I might have added a few new members to
my congregation. Best or worst of all, I hadn't scared off Jim.

"Do you want to go home or someplace
else?" he asked. I guess he had decided I had recovered from whatever had
caused me to collapse. "We could go for a drink, and you can tell me more
about Vodou."

"You're interested?"

"I'd like to get to know more about the woman I intend to
marry," Jim said, giving me a lopsided grin. I laughed, then smiled, then
stared open-mouthed.
He looked serious.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not asking for a commitment from you. Anytime
you want to break it off, I'll go, and I won't bother you again. I'm twenty-six
years old, and I've had my fair share of relationships over the years. But I've
never met anyone that I've felt such a connection with."

"Damn. I think going for a drink is a good idea," I said and
laughed while grabbing his hand. "I'm not sure whether it's you or me that
needs that drink more."

We stopped at the Crescent City Brewhouse, which was close to Woldenberg
Park, and ordered a five beer sampler along with two orders of Brewhouse Ribs.
We spent most of the time sampling the beers and looking at each other.

"Your Vodou ceremony was interesting. A lot more...engaging than a
Catholic Mass." He took my hand in his. "The people I talked to have
a lot of respect for you. I admit I didn't understand what was going on, but it
was obvious people came away...changed. I think even the spectators and I felt
something."

"Yes, sometimes the energy is more intense and participants feel a
connection to one of the Loa, creating a sense of euphoria. The drummers help
generate that energy—"

"And Mambo Renee," Jim said. "According to a few of the
people I talked to, it's a fascinating comparison between a Catholic Mass and a
Vodou service. The sermon is the same, but in Vodou it seems the mambo or...houngan
is responsible for helping the congregation connect to God."

"We probably rely more on the Loa...saints to help connect to God.
But your observation is at least partly true. The mambo and houngan are responsible
for more than just conducting a ceremony. Like a sermon, it can be dull and
boring, or exciting and full of life."

"Well, I can attest to the fact that the ceremony, like Mambo Renee,
was exciting and full of life."

"Your place or mine?" I asked and smiled at the momentary blank
look on his face. "That remark was almost as good as the,
I'd like to get to know more about the woman
I intend to marry
, remark. So in case you're really serious, I need to get
to know more about you."

Jim's face turned to a smile, "Yes, I meant both remarks, and I'm
serious. My place, as I've seen yours."

To his credit, he didn't rush through dinner and even stayed over coffee
to listen to a three-man band playing jazz and blues. We left a little after
midnight and drove in the direction of the Tulane Medical Center where Jim
worked. I laughed when we reached his condo unit—1201 Canal.

"You don't like it?" he asked as we entered the elevator.

"It's very nice. I was laughing at the coincidence. My friend Ron
and his wife Grace live here. They are on the fourth floor."

"Grace... She's the FBI agent who visited you."

"Yes, and her husband is a defense attorney," I said as he
opened the door. Like Ron and Grace's unit, you entered into an open floor plan
past the kitchen and bathroom into the living room. The single bedroom was off
to the right. The kitchen was clean with no clutter, and the living room
comfortable with a three-seat beige leather couch, a matching recliner, a
couple of tables, and a forty-something LED television. He opened the bedroom
door, and I entered. Again, comfortable and no clutter. I turned and put my
arms around his neck and kissed him, my tongue probing his. Before long we fell
backward on his double bed and slowly began removing pieces of clothing. I was
used to men in a rush to get my bra and pants off, so Jim was a pleasant
surprise. He seemed intent on exploring every inch with his hands and lips. First,
my blouse came off, and he roamed, kissing and stroking my neck, shoulders, and
upper chest. Then my bra, where he worked on my breasts and nipples. Then my
skirt, where he massaged my hips and thighs, and his lips worked on my stomach.
When my pants came off, I was past ready and panting as I finished stripping
him. Lost in the magic, we rolled over and over—Jim on top then me... We
reached climaxes within minutes and lay panting side-by-side.

"Wow!" he finally said as he looked into my eyes.

"I'll second that thought," I said kissing him on the nose and
snuggling closer.

* * *

I jerked awake, hearing an unfamiliar noise, and began to panic as I
looked around the strange room, not sure where I was or how I got there. Then I
smiled, remembering the love making last night. I was preparing to get up when
the door opened, and Jim came in with a mug of coffee and a large smile.

"Is this what I can expect if I give in and marry you?" I asked,
trying to look serious.

"If that's what it takes, then yes." He sat the mug down on the
side table. "I'm afraid all I can offer for breakfast is cereal, but if
you tell me what you like, I'll make sure I have it here."

I shook my head as if to wake up from a dream, or was it a nightmare?
I
had wanted to get out and socialize and hopefully find a meaningful
relationship, and Jim turned up. He was certainly what I was looking for, but
the timing was terrible. The Ken and Sheila group made my future uncertain, and
being around me wasn't safe for him. They could decide he was leverage, as they
had with me and Granny.

"Jim, you're crazy
wonderful..."

"But?"

"I'm a dangerous person to be
around...firebombing, kidnapping, and..."

"I thought your friend in the
FBI... Grace, has identified the group responsible for the firebombing and the
kidnapping," Jim said as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed me the
mug.

"She has, but the mystery man
that freed me must also have an agenda," I said, trying to imply more
potential danger without giving him the real reason.

"That woman, I think her name
was Oatha, said that you can tell the future. And she believes you can. I
thought that strange at the time. It didn't seem to fit your character. You are
so...honest." He held up his hand to stop me responding. "I
understand you have to make a living and everyone wants to know the
future—even me. I’d like to know if you are going to marry me, how many
kids..." His grin faded when I didn't respond to his apparent humor, and
he saw something in my face or eyes. "Oh...you believe you can see the
future."

For once in my life, I would like
to be able to see my future. What would happen to Jim if I let him stay? If I
could see, would it help me avoid whatever they had planned? My head throbbed
like my heart was inside it.

"Jim..." A tear slid down
my cheek. I didn't want to chase him off, but I couldn't tell him the truth and
didn't want him hurt. "You wanted to find out more about me. Do you want
to marry a cheat or a crazy person?"

He surprised me when he rose and
walked into the other room. Knowing it was best, I dressed while I finished my
coffee. When I entered the room, Jim sat at the counter separating the kitchen
and living room, drinking his coffee. He walked over and held my face between
his hands looking into my eyes.

"I’ve been sitting here trying
to figure things out. I don't understand what is going on, but I know with
certainty that you are not a cheat or crazy. Unless you tell me to go, I'm
willing to wait for you to tell me the problem or for it to be resolved."
He kissed one eye then the other, which were filled with tears. I wanted to
scream. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to leave.

"There is something going on
that I can't share with you. It makes me a dangerous person to be around and
could well mean there is no future with me. For those reasons, I should refuse
to see you again, but I can't seem to do it, although it's the right thing to
do. May God forgive me." I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood for a
long time clinging to him as if I let go I'd fall into an abyss. He gently
stroked my back and held me. "Don't call me...for at least three or four
days. We both need time to think." I untangled myself from him and left.

As I walked back to my shop, I
could understand how a person could go on a week, month, or even a year's
drinking binge, hoping to forget or avoid the problem. When I entered the shop,
it felt particularly empty.
That damn man
had me thinking about a life with him
. I spent the rest of the day
rearranging things on display, working on my website, and reviewing my
inventories. After a quick dinner of leftovers, I retired early and tossed and
turned all night.

* * *

I opened the shop a half-hour early
for something to do. Of course, it didn't help as no customers came in. The
good news was I had two fortunes scheduled: Oatha and Ellen. The morning was
slow, but the afternoon was busy and the sales good. Oatha showed right on time
that night.

"Good evening, Oatha. Would
you like some tea?"

"That would be nice, Thank
you," she said as she followed me into the back room and took a seat at my
table. "I think someone has been watching me."

"A man or a woman?" Was
it Ken or Sheila and, if so, what could they want?

"A man, but I couldn't
describe him. I only know because I didn't recognize him from the neighborhood.
Kind of nondescript, if you know what I mean," she said, looking off
blankly as if trying to remember what he looked like. After a minute, she
updated me on her children's school and sports activities, her husband’s
fishing, and her own daily activities since I'd seen her last. I didn't mind.
She was part of my congregation, and it gave me a chance to know her better and
help with any concerns she was having. Finally, she rose and walked out in the
shop and sat at the table we used for fortunetelling. "Thank you. You’re a
good listener, and I value your advice."

"I'm here for you anytime you
need someone to talk to," I said, placing my hands over hers. For several
minutes, I watched her next few weeks scroll by, stopping, and rewinding. She
was right. The man was easy to miss. He appeared as average as it was possible
to look. The only way to describe him was
average
looking.
But it was clear he was in her area too much to be a coincidence.
"Looks like a pretty normal week in paradise." I smiled, which elicited
a giggle. "I wouldn't concern yourself about being followed since I don't
see any one bothering you."

"That's a relief," she
said as she prepared to leave. "I'm glad you're back safe. You're well
liked, and a lot of people have come to depend on you with Mambo Eshe
gone." She gave me a hug and left.

* * *

The next day business seemed to
oscillate between dead and hectic. Around closing time a young woman walked in
and came directly to me.

"Are you Mambo Renee?"
She looked to be in her late twenties, five foot eight, good figure, and dressed
provocatively in tight, white shorts and t-shirt with
Miss Fabulous
in red script on the front, and sandals.

"Yes. How can I help
you?"

"I'm here on a sort of
business-vacation. While I was at the Blue Sax last night, someone said you
were a real fortuneteller. I would kind of like to know how my business was
going to turn out." She grinned. I occasionally got tourists asking for a
telling, but after Ken and Sheila, non-locals raised alarm-bells. What she said
sounded reasonable since Mr. Bishop was a client, and the people at his club
would have heard of me.

"I'm free tonight and Friday
night."

"Tonight would be great. I'm
only planning on being in town for the next three to four weeks."

"Is seven or eight convenient?
Miss…?"

"Angel...Angela. Let's make it
seven. It's the early bird who gets the worm if you know what I mean." She
winked, and her smile left little doubt as to what she meant—she was here
to party. Not unusual for New Orleans.

"I'll see you at seven,
Angela. The shop will be closed. Just knock on the door, I'll be here." I
watched as she swayed out the door. I'd wager her future was going to be XXX
rated.

* * *

I closed the shop at five, made
myself a corn maque coux, a spicy corn and tomato staple, added crawfish and
served it over rice, washed, and was dressed by six-forty-five. I assumed "Angel"
wanted to be entertained, so I dressed in traditional mambo attire with a
purple tignon. Angela knocked right on time. She had changed into a red silk
sleeveless blouse which showed her unrestrained nipples clearly, a very short
white skirt, and red shoes with stiletto heels. With her long wavy blond hair,
she would have men walking into walls.

"Come in and have a seat at
the table. You look dressed to kill," I said and received a killer smile.