Memphis took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator to the fourth floor where the class was held. Her yogi, Martha, would be proud. Martha was fifty-five years old with the body of someone well under half her age. She rolled out her mat in her usual corner of the room; she wasn’t at hand-standing levels yet.
Unlike some people,
she thought while looking in the direction of another classmate, Whitney the show-off. She gave her a dirty look before sitting down, though she was well on the way to becoming an exceptional student herself.
Martha led the class through breathing exercises before they went through various positions. It felt so good to stretch her muscles; she reached to worship the sun, moving smoothly into child. The class was over before she knew it. They were soon in corpse pose, with Martha walking around them, dabbing scented oil on the center of their foreheads—their Third Eyes. It reminded Memphis of that poor teacher who went to Brooklyn never to return. She shook the thoughts from her mind and tried to focus on Martha’s voice. Martha was such a lovely, wonderful person. She could picture her in her mind; her smile lines were the only indication of her age. She had a daughter Memphis’s age; she was probably the perfect mother.
The warm thoughts of Martha were suddenly replaced with a vision of her falling down the flight of stairs right outside the classroom.
She sat up in horror. “Martha!” she shouted.
“
Yes, dear. Are you all right?” Martha had come to her side, concerned.
“
Oh, it was just a muscle spasm.”
“
Where it is? I’ll rub it down for you,” she offered.
“
It’s gone now. If it’s okay, I’m just going to head to the showers a bit early today.”
“
Yes, dear, of course it is. Use the last stall; it has the best showerhead.” She gave her a warm smile and went on to anoint the rest of the class.
Memphis padded over to the changing rooms to grab her shower supplies. The water was nice and hot as she stepped in the shower. She tried to let the water wash away the negative image of Martha falling, but she suddenly felt a sense of urgency. She had to get out of the shower and get dressed. She ran out of the bathroom, hair still wet, and saw Martha walking backwards toward the stairs. No one saw the errant yoga mat behind her. Memphis called out to warn her, but it was too late.
No!
She thought as she saw Martha begin to fall.
Everyone seemed frozen in shock. They watched in horror as their teacher fell, her hands reaching out to grab something to stop her descent. Memphis reached out to grab Martha’s hand and felt her soft grip. She and Martha looked down at their hands in surprise before Memphis pulled her up to the landing.
“
Memphis, my dear, thank you!” Martha exclaimed breathlessly.
Everyone gathered around them, asking Martha if she was all right and patting Memphis on the back for her rapid reflexes. Everyone was so relieved that Martha was all right that they didn’t seem to notice or care to ask Memphis how she was able to get from the bathrooms to the landing so fast. Memphis decided to leave before they could think to ask any questions.
She grabbed her bags and checked her phone. She had a voice message from Jill. The IT guy was able to trace the astrogirl88 e-mail account’s owner, but they were very confused when they found out who it was.
“
It said it belonged to you, Memphis. Give me a call when you get this.”
She immediately returned Jill’s phone call. Jill was on Madison Avenue at Vera Wang’s store, trying on gowns. She invited Memphis to meet her and they would discuss the e-mails while she provided input on the gowns. Jill didn’t sound as lively as usual. She hoped she wasn’t angry with her for using her resources to find out about Astrogirl.
She opted to take a cab instead of the subway from the yoga studio. Budget be damned, she deserved it—she just saved a woman’s life. It dawned on her that she was somewhat of a hero. Maybe she was Astrogirl. Not the gross pornographic one, but a nice one who saved well-toned older ladies from death.
She smiled to herself and accidently caught the cab driver’s eye. She immediately stopped when he gave her a suspicious look; no one smiled in a New York City cab unless they were up to no good. Fortunately they were already near the store or he would have probably stopped the cab and told her to get out. She paid him and exited right in front of the store. She suddenly became aware of her wet hair and shabby post-yoga outfit as she walked into the store’s polished interior.
“
Hello, may I help you?” A consultant approached her with the enthusiasm of a first time lion tamer.
“
Why, yes. I’m here to meet a dear friend of mine. Jill Walden?” Memphis replied in a British accent. Whenever she felt underdressed or underclass, her nerves forced her to go into Bridget Jones mode. Everyone looked better when they spoke with a British accent. She was sure she read somewhere— possibly in
Vogue
—that it had been clinically proven..
The bridal consultant must have taken part in such a trial because she instantly lit up at the sound of her voice. “Of course. Miss Walden is already in a gown; I’ll take you to meet her. Right this way.”
Memphis followed her to the back of the store.
“
So where are you from?” the consultant asked, attempting to make small talk.
“
I’m from London,” Memphis replied.
Duh. Accent
.
“
I love London. Which part?”
“
The main area, where most of the action is.”
“
Oh. Kensington? Earls Court? Piccadilly?”
“
Yes,” was all Memphis said.
“
Piccadilly! I love the area, but how could you stand all the noise?”
“
Earplugs.”
“
Ha! Yes, those would help. Did you ever go to that Indian restaurant on the corner? I can’t remember the name.” She looked up, hoping to find the answer near her eyebrows.
“
Looks as if we’ve arrived,” Memphis said abruptly.
“
Jill, honey, I’m here,” Memphis called out. She heard a huge sob. She and the consultant looked at each other in confusion. “Jill?”
“
Yes, I’m in here!” she called out between sobs.
“
Miss Walden, can I get you anything?” the consultant asked, and Memphis told her to get some tissues and water. The consultant nodded her head and went to procure the items. When she was gone, Memphis knocked on the dressing room door and entered when Jill gave her permission.
Memphis found her on the beautiful ivory carpet, wearing a gorgeous white dress. Ugly black tears covered her face.
“
Jill, what happened? What’s wrong?” Memphis kneeled in front her and completely lost her fake accent. This was the scene that she envisioned the day Jill announced that she was engaged. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Why was she seeing all of these awful events before they took place?
“
Hese a maddic,” Jill mumbled.
“
What?” Memphis moved closer to hear her.
“
He’s a sex addict.”
“
Who is?”
“
Wesley. He’s addicted to pornography and prostitutes.”
Jill tearfully explained what happened. Memphis’s horoscopes got her thinking, specifically the one about a friend and bad news. “It had to be about her!” She exclaimed. Seeing that she was Memphis’s only friend. Memphis let that slight go, even though it was true. She had her IT contact take a look at Wesley’s laptop and internet history. It was filled with porn sites, and he found e-mail correspondence between Wesley and a transvestite escort/car service.
“
A transvestite hooker service? How can I compete, Memphis?”
Memphis knew too well how she felt. The consultant knocked and handed Memphis the tissues and water. She wiped away some of Jill’s tears. Poor Jilly Bean. She hadn’t wanted her vision to come true.
“
Jill, I saw this coming.”
“
You did? I know—I should have seen it, too. With those trips to Thailand.”
“
No, I meant I had a vision of all this happening. You on the carpeted floor, crying in your wedding dress. But I didn’t know why you were crying. I never imagined it to be about a transvestite car service.”
“
It’s an escort-slash-car service, and what do you mean you saw me?”
Memphis explained what happened with the ring during their lunch.
“
Why didn’t you say something?” Jill asked, getting up from the floor.
“
I didn’t know what it meant, just like I didn’t know that I was sending myself horoscopes. How can you guys be sure it was me? Maybe someone used my name to register that e-mail account.”
“
No, he matched it your IP address. Unless someone is sneaking into your apartment to send you e-mails at 4 a.m., then it’s you, hun. Help me unzip this.”
“
It couldn’t be Gemma; she’s been out of town. I guess it has to be me. I used to sleepwalk as a child; maybe it’s progressed to sleep typing. Oh Jill, this dress is gorgeous. What are you going to do?”
“
I’m calling off the wedding, of course. We haven’t announced it; we were going to tell everyone tomorrow at the party. Now we’ll just be a regular group of friends dancing and drinking in masks.”
“
I’m so sorry.”
“
Don’t be sorry. I should actually thank you—better yet, hire you!”
“
Hire me? For what?”
“
To write horoscopes for the newspaper. Your horoscope helped me discover that Wesley was a lying and disgusting sexual deviant. You have to help others. Now that you’re a free agent, you can work for me. It will fit in with your class schedule, and we’ll have so much fun. Please say yes.”
Memphis looked at Jill’s hopeful face; this would make her day. She reluctantly accepted. Jill wrapped her arms around her and gripped her tightly. Her world was just turned upside down and Memphis’ coming on board would be the silver lining. Memphis wished she could have a vision of what this decision would bring.
Chapter 9
It was the night of Jill’s masquerade party. It was chilly but not too cold, which was great for the girls who favored slutty insert-civil-occupation costumes. Tonight Memphis would be one of those girls. She was young, single, and ready to mingle. Jonathan preferred that she dress conservatively; he liked her menswear-inspired ensembles. She should have seen that red—er, rainbow flag. Well, that was why hindsight was twenty-freaking-twenty.
She did her hair and makeup, but wanted to wait until she got to Jill’s before she changed into her costume. She wasn’t ready to ride the subway in a black corset. Gemma texted to tell her she would meet her there with her new suitor. Jill promised that there would be plenty of food and men and that she would definitely go home with something yummy—oh, and maybe a plate of food, too.
Memphis felt a bit nervous. She wasn’t used to talking to men her age. She had always dated older men who preferred that she didn’t speak, which took a lot of the pressure off her. Men in their twenties liked sassy, quick-witted girls who wore glasses and miniskirts. At least, that was what she gathered from the television shows she’d started watching. After all, her nights were no longer spent collecting data for her research.
She walked the short distance to Jill’s building—not apartment, but building. Her parents bought it for her. If their baby was going to leave their big, warm home in Texas, she would have a big, warm home in New York. She unlocked the door with her key; they used to live together until Jill and Wesley became serious. Memphis kindly offered to move out and they, to her chagrin, kindly accepted. She walked into the wide foyer and into uniformed human traffic.
The caterers were still setting up. It looked like a Broadway production, with Baron, Jill’s party planner, orchestrating it from the center of the living room. He greeted her with two air kisses and informed her that her majesty was upstairs getting ready. She was micromanaging as usual, waiting until the very last minute to get dressed. Ah, such a Type A Leo. Memphis shook her head as she ascended the stairs. She had been heavily researching horoscopes and the zodiac in preparation for her new gig. It led her to some very interesting discoveries about herself and her friends.
Jill was sitting at her vanity when Memphis entered her suite. With her rouged lips and hair in pin curls, she resembled an old Hollywood starlet preparing for her first day on the movie set.
“
Hello doll face,” Jill greeted her.
“
Hi-yah.” Memphis set her bag on the marble coffee table in the middle of the room. She grabbed her corset and pencil skirt before stepping behind the dressing screen to change. When she finished dressing, she met Jill in front of the mirror. Jill was in a white corset and satin shorts. She wore a top hat, and her silver mask glittered in her right hand. Memphis opted for black and gold. They were like yin and yang; Jill was her sister from another mister. Maybe from the same mister—hey, you never know.
“
Memphis, your eyes look amazing. Are you wearing contact lenses?”