Читать книгу The Gypsy Ribbon - Shannon MacLeod - Страница 7

Prologue

New Orleans, Louisiana–Early Spring

James Kelly didn’t like it, not even a wee bit.

The lead singer for the world-renowned rock band Horizon slouched against the back wall of the crowded and dimly lit room, graced only by a round table with a fringed tablecloth and two folding metal chairs. The tarnished wall sconces held small light bulbs that attempted to look like candles but fell embarrassingly short. Whoever had the bright idea to go to the French Quarter to have their fortune told needs an ass-kickin’, James thought morosely.

The acrid smell of stale incense made his nose itch. He leaned in closer to one of the matching blonde groupies gripping his arm. The cloying scent of her expensive perfume was only slightly less offensive than the old patchouli. “Jaysus, gal. What did you do, bathe in it?” he muttered, recoiling from the cloud surrounding her. The matching blondes clinging to each arm purred and rubbed against him, but he silenced them both with a sharp “Sssh.” Pouting, they stilled but didn’t lessen their protective grip. “I can’t hear a goddamn thing,” James whispered to Blonde One, but in spite of his complaints he made no move to inch closer.

The old woman dealt the Tarot cards with practiced ease, speaking quietly to the young drummer, DJ, seated across from her. Turning the cards over, the gypsy pointed to each and he nodded eagerly in answer. The rest of the band plus their Miss Right-Nows were scattered about the room, watching and awaiting their own turns. One by one, they approached the table and sat across from the woman while she spread their cards.

“I need some air. I need a drink. I need to not be here,” James muttered. The rest of the band cracked jokes about having their fortunes told, but he was willing to bet his moderately obscene annual salary none of them had his background. His grandmother back home in Ireland had been a witch–a real one–and she read the cards for him throughout his life until she crossed over a couple of years before. Everything she said came true. She had foreseen him dropping out of school and joining the band that had shot like a meteor to the top of the music world, but she saw no farther than that, or if she did, she never shared it with him. He believed in this stuff, even if he’d never admit it to any of his friends, and it made him uncomfortable to hear others poke fun at forces they couldn’t even begin to understand.

He toyed with the notion that maybe he inherited a little something extra from his grandmother. James saw things before they happened - pictures, images, once in a while random words would run through his mind. Sometimes he figured out what they meant beforehand, but usually not until after the event had already occurred. It would be nice if he had a bit more control over it. It would be right useful. Like now, for example. He could have stayed at the hotel and avoided this shit altogether.

The last querent stood from the table and nodded his thanks. As a group, they began to move toward the door until the deep voice of the bassist stopped them. “Wait,” said Randy, “James hasn’t had his fortune told yet.”

Smothering the urge to choke his well meaning friend, James shook his head and pasted a wide grin on his face. “The only future I’m needin’ to know about is whether or not I’m gonna get lucky tonight. What do you think, ladies? Do I need cards for that one?” The twins giggled in response and he pulled them both close for a kiss as the room exploded in laughter. One by one, they all fell silent as the old woman stood and pointed a gnarled finger at James.

“Young man,” she said firmly, her voice deeply accented. She crooked her finger at him then pointed to the chair. “Sit yourself down.”

James went rigid and reluctantly released his grip on the women. Swaggering over to the table, he flopped down in the chair and gave the old gypsy his best I’m-not-buying-any-of-this-shit scowl. She smiled, giving him a less than appealing view of missing and blackened teeth, picked up the Tarot deck and began to shuffle.

“Your name is James?” she asked.

When he nodded, she clucked her tongue in disapproval. “No, is not,” she murmured, “and you are long way from home.”

He laughed and allowed his natural brogue to thicken comically. “Sure and you didn’t need cards to see that one, luvvy.”

“Don’t be insolent,” she chided in a gruff whisper, “and you need not be afraid.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “I remind you of someone you know–knew,” she corrected. “Her spirit watches over you. She say tell you is okay that you could not see her off on her final journey. Remembering garden is best.”

The suddenly airless room flipped over and spun around for James. At the funeral for his grandmother, he had been unable to enter the small country church with the rest of his family, not wishing to face the finality of seeing the tiny woman lying in the satin-lined coffin wearing her best dress. He chose instead to remember her tending the herbs in her garden and chastising him at the top of her formidable lungs for tramping through her flowerbeds. This was something he hadn’t shared with anyone–ever. He gripped the edges of the table to stop the room’s gymnastics. “Now you have my full attention,” he snapped.

“Is goot.” The old woman chuckled deep in her throat and laid out three cards. “I say you are far from home. I mean the path you are meant to be on, the one that will take you home. In time, in time,” she sang to herself, turning over the first card.

James peered at the first card. “I know that one,” he said, remembering the old record album his father owned. Stairway to Heaven was one song he heard a lot in his childhood, and he smiled remembering the night the band did it as a special cover at a concert on his dad’s birthday. His father had loved it, telling James over and over how he sang it even better than Robert Plant.

She nodded. “The Hermit tells me you will come to a time where you question yourself. You will wonder if there is more for you than what you see.” She gave his hand a motherly pat then turned over the second card.

“The Tower.” Her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Major upheaval, catastrophe. You will be phoenix that rises from the ashes of the fire that consumed him.” He heard a snicker behind him but someone else muttered for him to shut up. She reached for the third card, and her hand hovered over it for the briefest moment before she turned it over. “The World,” she announced. “That which you desire most will be yours.”

James searched her eyes before whispering, “What do I desire most?”

She picked up the cards and tapped her head with one crooked finger. “What you want now is up here. And down there.” She cackled, gesturing towards his lap. She laughed at her own joke a moment, pausing to wipe her eyes with the corner of her ratty shawl before she continued. “But what you desire most,” she said, pointing to her chest, “is here. Listen to what your heart tells you.” Tugging at his hand, she pulled him close to whisper in his ear, “Listen well and you will know her when you see her.”

He drew back to look at her. “Know who?”

She pulled one more card from the deck and turned it over to reveal the Queen of Wands. She clapped her hands with delight. “Your Queen, of course.”

* * * *

Tampa, Florida–Four months later

Lisbeth Vargo and Lily Evans jumped up and down and squealed when they finally got inside the Ford Amphitheater and found their seats for the Horizon World Domination Tour concert. “Ten rows from the stage!” Beth crowed triumphantly and the best friends laughed out loud in delight.

“I still can’t believe you won radio tickets. This show sold out in minutes,” Lily pointed out as both girls tied souvenir tour t-shirts around their waists for safekeeping.

“I’m just glad I was able to get the night off,” Beth said. “I’ll pick up a couple of lunch shifts next week to make up for it.” Scheduling adjustments aside, Beth knew that if she had not gotten the requested night off, there would have been some sort of unforeseen catastrophe, fire, or flood preventing her from reporting to work. She was not going to miss the first-ever live performance of her favorite band in her home town. “So how’d you manage to break free from your keeper for the whole evening?”

Lily blew out a gusty sigh. “Lucas hates this band. He wouldn’t have come if I paid him. He says they’re too loud.”

Beth threw an arm around her friend and hooted. “Fine by me. Girls night out–musically challenged boyfriends definitely not welcome!”

The lights flickered on and off, startling them both and riveting their attention to the stage. The amphitheater went dark and the first power chords from an electric guitar rang out into the hot summer evening. Colored lasers scanned rapidly over the manic capacity crowd, temporarily blinding her at moments. The stage lights came up and she caught her first glimpse of the band. The crowd roared, rendering her temporarily deaf. As they launched into the opening bars of a song from their latest CD, Beth grabbed Lily’s arm and gave it a squeeze that made her friend yelp.

“Ohmigod, there he is, look. Look over there behind the speakers,” she squealed, pointing to the towering column near the back of the stage.

With perfect timing, the spotlight hit the singer as he stepped out onto the stage. He waved then broke into a run, sliding the last few feet to the microphone before grabbing it and belting out the opening lyrics.

“Ooh, have mercy. James Kelly is even hotter in person,” Beth sighed. She swiveled her head to follow his movements across the stage. He strutted back and forth, reaching out into the crowd, not quite touching the outstretched fingers of screaming groupies.

The band ran through a half dozen songs before they paused to catch their breath, allowing James to chat up the audience. “Are there any ladies here tonight?” he shouted. She squealed along with the other females in the crowd.

He shook his head sadly and waved. “Thanks for coming tonight, ladies. Drive safely.” Without missing a beat he bellowed again, “Any wicked, bad girls in the house?” The response was deafening. “Mmmmm, we love bad girls. You can stay awhile,” he purred and right on cue the band fired up the intro to “Stay Awhile,” another crowd favorite lauding the charms of wild and uncontrollable women. Beth and Lily sang along, hopping up and down in time with the infectious rhythm.

The band played for two hours straight and when they left the stage, the lighters came out in force. They did one encore, left and returned for a second, launching into one of their biggest hits, “Let Me Be The One.” The song began as a sultry power ballad then crescendoed to a driving tempo when the melody took flight on the wings of the electric guitar solo. On the final chorus the lights came up and James flashed the triumphant grin of a conquering hero as he swaggered up and down, singing a line then holding the microphone out for the rapturous crowd to sing the next.

For Beth, time came to a complete and grinding halt. One moment, she was singing along with thousands of people and the next she was staring straight into the emerald green eyes of James Kelly, his gaze locked on her. Was he looking at her? She shivered, but dismissed the ridiculous notion when he abruptly shook his head and moved to the other side of the stage. The song ended with a loud fanfare as he yelled out, “Thank you, Tampa. Good night!” and ran from the stage.

Lily grabbed her arm and said, “Let’s get out of here before we get stuck in traffic.” The two women made a break for the exit, climbing over seats and getting swept away by the current of people bound for the same destination. Once in the car–and stuck in all the traffic trying to leave the parking lot anyway–Lily asked, “You never said…did you pull a Tarot card for today?”

“Yeah,” Beth laughed. “The Ace of Cups. Beginnings of love, my ass. I thought it meant I was going to meet someone tonight.” And for a second there, she thought she had.

* * * *

Backstage and behind the scenes, traffic was flowing smoothly as the roadies bustled around efficiently packing up the stage and equipment. Security set to work clearing the amphitheater, pushing the stragglers toward the door and discouraging those diehards trying to sweet talk themselves into the backstage area. Behind the stage, the band and their ever-present bodyguards passed through the halls crammed full of applauding well-wishers. James’s personal bodyguard and all-around go-to guy Kevin Bellamy walked next to him as they headed back to the dressing rooms. The muscular Army veteran, who went by the unlikely moniker Spiderman, had been with the band since their first tour. James both liked and trusted the soft-spoken Southerner.

“Are you sure, Kev?” James asked for the third time, “I mean, she was right there. She can’t have gotten out that fast. She was left of center stage a dozen rows back or so. Curly red hair, black t-shirt. She had on one of them glowing necklace things. You can’t find her?”

Kevin shook his head. “I looked everywhere. I even radioed up to the exits as soon as you asked about her.” The bodyguard shot a dubious glance at his charge. “You’ve never asked me to go out and hunt down a specific woman for you before. They always line up and you load your plate like you’re in some kinda chick cafeteria. She must have been seriously hot.”

James’s eyes went unfocused for a moment. He didn’t know if she was hot or not. The second he saw her, it was like everything just stopped. Weird, like he knew her. Or he was supposed to. An unexplainable sense of loss crept over him and he quivered in response, shaking his head at the strange feelings.

“Guess I’ll never know.”