Forecast (4 page)

“Excellent,” snarled Mac. “That’s three days covered.”

“Can’t we keep Ray on?”

“Nope, he’s committed to that program on global dimming. What about John Price? Women like him.”

“Lobotomized women,” Jess said. “He’s got the presence of a house brick.”

“Jennifer Kelly’s already on her summer break. So is Delice Robinson.” Mac looked stressed. “Jesus, it’s July. We’re already working without most of our big names.”

“Bill and Tina are on most of the summer, so we can afford to replace Drew with someone fresh.”

“We could bring Eva back, She’s got a solid fan base and has proved herself on weekends.”

Jess gritted her teeth. “I don’t think she’s strong enough. Plus, the stats show the female audience hasn’t really warmed to her.”

Mac looked amazed. “Really? I’ve always thought she was cute.”

“You would, you’re male. Besides, cute is for puppies. We need someone special.”

Mac was worried. “We need a goddamn miracle.”

They sat quietly, desperately searching for a solution. Mac mindlessly played with the snow globe on his desk. He’d picked it up on a trip to Cairo. He liked shaking it and watching snow fall on the pyramids.

Jess glanced at her fingernails. She needed a manicure. She thought about Eva. Eva always had perfect nails. She was also the obvious choice to replace Drew, but Jess wouldn’t let that happen. Not now.

Suddenly a crack of thunder broke the silence and they both jumped.

“Holy shit,” cried Mac. “Where’d that come from?”

Jess stood and walked to the window. It was raining. Pouring. Absolutely bucketing down.

“Did anyone predict that?” asked Mac.

Jess stared out the window and thought of the beautiful redhead she’d seen this morning. “Yes, actually, someone did.” She turned to Mac, excited. “Mac, I have a brilliant idea.”

“It’d want to be better than the last one you had.”

Jess ignored his dig. “We need someone different to replace Drew. Someone who won’t steal Drew’s thunder, but will create a bit of her own.”

“Her?” Mac asked, warily.

“Yes, her. There’s this woman … it’s a bit of a gimmick, but I think it could work.”

Mac leant against his desk, his arms folded. “Is she a meteorologist?”

“Ah … sort of. Apparently she hasn’t been wrong once in the last three years.”

“That’s impossible. No one is that accurate. She’d have to have a crystal ball or something.”

“Funny you should say that, Mac.” Jess paused for a moment. She could feel it in her gut. This would be a ratings winner. “How about … a psychic weather woman?”

Rowie had an appointment for a reading. The client had never been to a psychic before but had nowhere else to turn. She stood at the counter and glanced warily around the shop. She was quite tall, with brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her features, while not beautiful, were pretty. In her simple tan pants and cream shirt she looked practical and confident—an illusion shattered with one glance in her eyes. They gave the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights of a rather large truck.

Rowie led the woman upstairs to the ‘Edgar Cayce Room,’ Rowie’s favorite room to read in. It was a small windowless room, but thanks to a spell cast by a family friend, it was always filled with sunshine.

The woman didn’t seem to notice the room’s quirk. Rowie motioned for her to sit in one of chairs placed either side of a small table. Rowie then sat opposite her and popped a blank tape into the cassette recorder.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” said the woman. “I figured you could work that out yourself.”

Rowie sighed. Why visit a clairvoyant if you intend to be difficult? There was nothing wrong with a good dose of cynicism, but it was unacceptable to be downright rude when you were the one who made the appointment.

“Your name is … you were named after your grandfather … Starts with a G …?” Rowie began.

“Georgette.”

“Well Georgette, I’m clairaudient, clairvoyant and clairsentient, which means I hear, see and feel things. Please remember, everything I tell you is written in sand, not stone. If you don’t like something, go out there and change it. Use what I say here as a guide to assist you to make your own choices.”

“Okay,” Georgette murmured.

Rowie calmed herself. “To start with I’m receiving a message from someone called Isabel who wants you to know she is around and looking out for you.”

Georgette’s eyes filled with tears.

“Isabel is your mother?”

Georgette nodded. “She died of … she died ten years ago.”

Rowie paused, not sure how to continue. Isabel was speaking one hundred miles an hour, finally relieved that someone was listening. The problem was Rowie wasn’t sure how to relay the message she was receiving to the distraught woman in front of her.

“Tell her to go straight to the doctor. It’s not too late for her, but if she waits any longer it will be,” Isabel screeched.

Rowie looked at Georgette. “What did you want to ask? Did you come about your boyfriend?”

Georgette nodded as a fresh set of tears began to flow.

“Okay,” said Rowie. “But first there’s a more pressing issue to discuss.”

“What could be more pressing then catching Jay in bed with his ex?”

Rowie decided to cut straight to the chase. “You said your mother died of breast cancer.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Oh … that’s what I’m picking up.”

“Well you’re right,” Georgette conceded.

“Do you have regular checks?”

“No. Why would I?”

“I’m not a doctor, Georgette, so I can’t diagnose, but your mother is telling me you need to see one,” Rowie explained.

“That’s ridiculous,” hissed Georgette. “I’m fit, healthy … I eat organic … I live on tofu.”

Rowie collected her thoughts. The reading was tough. “I’m passing on a message. You really need to see a doctor as soon as possible.”

“Are you saying I have breast cancer?”

“You’ll have to ask your doctor that.”

Georgette laughed, not mentioning the tiny lump she recently found and chose to ignore. “That’s great. I’m paying you sixty dollars to tell me I’m going to die.”

“I never said that. I don’t normally go into all this in a reading, as it’s not my place to predict death. If I clearly saw your death, I’d keep my mouth shut and just give you a vague reading.” Rowie tried to remain as detached as possible but was aching for the girl opposite her who was about to embark on the toughest journey of her life.

Rowie felt Georgette clam up, as though all that she had just told her had been locked in a vault for later.

“And what about my boyfriend?”

Rowie grit her teeth and delivered yet more bad news. “He’s not coming back. There is a man for you though. You will meet him soon and he’ll love you in a way you never thought possible. I like the feel of him very much. He’s tall. He might have something to do with children … You’re a teacher aren’t you?”

Georgette nodded and looked shocked that Rowie had known.

“A good one, from what I gather.” Rowie paused briefly trying to decipher the images she was receiving. “This man may also have something to do with education … I’m not certain but I see a red balloon which would normally symbolize a child to me.”

“A red balloon?”

“Yes,” said Rowie. “It’s very clear.”

“So I’m not going to die?”

“We’re all going to die, Georgette. I presume the fact that I see a man in your future means you won’t be dying right now. Why don’t you ask me some questions and we’ll see what else comes up?”

“No thanks. We’ll leave it at that,” said Georgette, reaching into her handbag. “Do you take Visa or do you want cash?”

“Either is fine,” Rowie removed the taped recording of the session for Georgette to take home.

Georgette placed the money on the table then stood and straightened her skirt. She looked around the room and noticed that, despite the light, there were no windows. “How strange,” she whispered before turning and holding out her hand. “Thank you for your time.”

Rowie stood and shook Georgette’s hand. “Good luck.”

“If any of what you just said is true then I’ll need more than luck.”

Rowie led her back into the shop and Georgette left without saying another word. Gwendolyn looked at Rowie and smiled sadly, while Lilia patted her shoulder.

“Breast cancer? It’s written all over her chest,” said Gwendolyn.

“I had to tell her.”

“That’s okay. Sometimes these messages are a warning.”

Rowie nodded. “I just hope she goes to a doctor. She may have a chance.”

The shop door jangled and a woman rushed in, shaking off her umbrella. She stalled when she noticed the three Shakespeare women standing together.

“Wow! Triplets.” She made her way over to Rowie. “Was it you outside this morning? Predicting the weather?”

“Yes.”

Jess grabbed Rowie’s hand and shook it. “I’m Jess Walker. Can you really predict the weather?”

Rowie glanced at the umbrella that was dripping all over the counter. “It would appear so.”

“Excellent. Can you show me how you do your … thang?”

Rowie glanced down at the appointment book. “I have a client in half an hour.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need much time. Half an hour is great.”

Rowie looked over at Gwendolyn, who nodded. The girl was obviously desperate. She led Jess out the back and motioned for her to sit. She took a pack of cards and shuffled them. “Is there anything in particular that you need me to look into today?”

Jess shook her head. “Nope. Just show me how you do it.”

Rowie pressed record on the tape deck and starting laying the cards out. She spoke gently as she did. “Remember, nothing I tell you is set in stone. You have the power to change things.”

“Yep,” said Jess, as she peeked at her watch.

“It’s all about work at the moment. I see here that you’re good at your job.”

Jess rolled her eyes. Didn’t need a psychic to tell her that.

Rowie continued. “You’re in a tough field … journalism … TV? Rowie paused and concentrated. “I’m getting both.”

Goosebumps shot up Jess’ arms. “Yes. TV News.”

“You’ll go far … if …” Rowie paused.

Jess leant forward. “If what?”

“There’s a guy connected to your work. You need to let it go.”

“Is that a fact?”

Rowie looked up and Jess, her emerald eyes piercing straight through her. “I believe so.”

Jess felt hot. She squirmed back in her seat. “I have. Let it … him go.”

Rowie saw straight through the lie. “No you haven’t.”

“Well, I’m not a quitter.”

“You’re wasting your time. He’s moved on. And so should you, before it affects your work.”

Jess felt completely exposed. “Do you know everything?”

Rowie smiled, which helped ease the tension. “No. Not everything. Unless I kiss you.”

Jess looked horrified. Was the witch hitting on her?

Rowie laughed. “It’s this thing that happens when I kiss someone. I see their whole future in my head. Like a movie.”

“That must make for an interesting sex life.”

Rowie nodded. “I’ve had to dump some really great guys because of it.”

“Why?”

“No point wasting time with someone else’s man. If I see that I’m not a part of their future, then I might as well move on.”

“Sounds like good time management skills to me,” said Jess. “So have you ever starred in one of these movies?”

“No. And I won’t. I’m waiting for nothing. A man I can’t read.”

“Someone mysterious?”

“Exactly.”

Jess glanced at her watch again. Down to business. “So how does this relate to the weather?”

“The way I just tuned into you, it’s the same, but on a grander scale,” Rowie explained. “I tune into nature.”

“How fascinating,” said Jess, who thought it was anything but. Nature, shmatcher! Could she do this stuff on live television?

Rowie realized that Jess was humoring her. “It’s just a silly neighborhood tradition.”

“No, it’s great. What else do the cards say?”

Rowie turned three more cards, and then looked at Jess in surprise. “You’re not here for a reading at all. You’re here to offer me a job.”

Rowie was closing the shop when she heard a familiar shriek behind her.

“I came as fast as I could … or as fast as Qantas could!”

Rowie’s heart leapt at the sound of Angel Sorrenti’s voice. She spun around just in time to feel the full impact of Angel’s curvy body hurling against her.

“I missed you,” she howled. Angel held Rowie tight, pushing her face into her enormous cleavage. “I got your email. How dare you break up with Brad while I was back visiting the Homeland. Are you okay?”

Rowie nodded. “I am now.”

Angel Sorrenti was the type of woman that compelled men to paint and write poetry. By modern standards she was more lump of lard than lollipop. She was tall with jet-black wavy hair, flashing blue eyes and lips that made Angelina Jolie look in desperate need of some collagen. In fact she looked a lot like Angelina Jolie, only over-inflated. She was a delicious mix of big breasts and big hips that didn’t sag or dimple, but jiggled and swayed and made people think of sex, and sweat, and summer fruits. She was positively ripe, and looked as though she had stepped straight off a Botticelli canvas.

They’d met when the magazine Angel worked for sent her over to Second Site to do a piece on psychics. Angel admitted that while she didn’t doubt Rowie’s abilities, she thought it was “all a bunch of crap” anyway.

“Nothing like living one day at a time to see what the future has in store for you, darl,” she declared. “But hey, next time I want to bet on a horse I’ll call you up.”

Her honesty had been refreshing; her lack of interest in Rowie’s clairvoyance was like a breath of fresh air. Rowie was used to people being nervous of her, or overly friendly in the hope that she would constantly feed them information about their futures.

Angel was different. Angel didn’t care. She was a loud-mouthed Aussie girl who had been Rowie’s friend, confidant, and line to all things wicked and wild for the past three years. She entertained Rowie for hours with stories of the poor heartbroken men she left in her wake; for although her name was Angel, everything from her looks to her husky laugh, to the way she roared through life, reeked of the devil.