Just because Ash and Toren have succumbed to finding the loves of their lives doesn’t mean I’m next. It doesn’t even mean the curse will work for me. I guess that’s what this could prove.
And if the thing doesn’t glow?
Well, I don’t know what then. Maybe Lindy and I agree to go our separate ways, and we live the rest of our lives in harmony, knowing we might be cursed soulmates but telling ourselves it means nothing.
It would be easier to tell myself that if Lindy didn’t have her golden copper hair done up in a messy bun with long tendrils gracing her sweet face. Her freckles are practically glowing in the setting sun, and she’s wearing a shimmery copper lip gloss to match. She has on an emerald silk dress that looks like a long dress shirt with buttons up the front and a belt in the middle. On her feet, she’s wearing the same black ankle boots with the silver buckles that she used to smash the wasp earlier, except now they no longer have sticky toffee pudding all over the bottom.
“Did you manage to eat all those desserts?” I’m nervous, which is the only reason I blurt out something so ridiculous.
Lindy rolls her eyes and heads down the sidewalk, ignoring a blood-curdling scream from down the block. “Yeah, I ate all of them, and the four tuna wraps too. It was all delicious. Thank you.” She stops at the side of the street. Then, she walks directly over to my car and stands in front of it.
I don’t ask her how she knows it’s mine. Either she was watching me from the window when I got here, or it sticks out like a sore thumb. Yeah, I think it sticks out. I should not have chosen to drive the flashy black sports car with a price tag worth more than all the houses in this neighborhood combined. It was in bad taste, but in my defense, I didn’t know where I was heading.
I open the door for Lindy, who slides in and stares straight forward. I get in and start the car, feeling guilty because this is the first time I’ve thought about the fact that I drive around something this expensive and never really think twice. I drive it because I enjoy it, not to make people envious, or because I’m trying to compensate, or for any kind of status. I picked it out because I liked it. I’ve never thought about what else I could have done with the money or how some people would look at this car and think it’s such a great waste of money when they struggle so, so hard just to make ends meet.
Obviously, I’ve known this kind of poverty existed, but it’s never really touched me before. I’m over thirty, and I’ve lived in NOLA my whole life, but I haven’t driven into a neighborhood like this.
Or thought about them.
Or cared. I mean, I didn’t not care, but I didn’t really care either. It’s easy to pretend things don’t exist when they aren’t directly in my line of sight. Maybe it’s better to put it that way. Honestly, I do care about other people, my family, friends, and even people I don’t know. I also do charity work, but it just never really hit me like this before. So I guess I can’t truly say I cared.
What is wrong with me?
“Anyway, I can tell you have some stuff going on in your mind, but I wanted to say I was kidding. I didn’t eat the desserts. I got the tuna for my cats, and I gave the rest to my neighbors. They have a bunch of little kids. I waited until they were off school and walked the bag over. They were so excited. It definitely made their day.”
“Oh, I…”
“Do you have a game plan for tonight?” Lindy mercifully changes the subject, and she’s all business now.
She also smells delicious. I have a thing for cotton candy, and she smells a little bit like it, though I’d say it’s more marshmallow than cotton candy. Whatever it is, it’s delicious enough to make my mouth water and get my hands clammy on the wheel.
“I don’t know. I guess I’d just say we’re conducting an experiment with a piece of jewelry, and sometimes it glows when it’s touched. Would someone want to try?”
“Why would anyone want to try that? It sounds like bad voodoo.”
“Yes, but tourists love that kind of stuff. They come here just for a taste of it.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do,” I insist.
“I say they don’t.”
“You’re not from here,” I retort.
That silences her. She turns and stares at me, and I stare back at her, which isn’t advisable because I’m driving. However, she doesn’t correct me on that. I can tell she’s not from here because she doesn’t have the right accent. Or maybe she does, but it’s something that sounds decidedly northern. I notice the way her jaw clenches, and I decide that asking where she’s from is prying. She’s already on edge, so I go for something safe. Cats. She mentioned cats.