Psychic Junkie (10 page)

The other, more alarming aspect of this claim was that the description perfectly matched that of the Knight of Wands. It was then that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was coming.

My knight was on his way.

A few weeks later I was at work, enjoying one of my self-imposed “breaks,” when I discovered Angel, a phone psychic with lofty promises. I scrolled through her site, temptation twitching in my fingers as I learned that she had a special rate for first-time callers and, even more tempting, that she didn’t use tarot cards.

Lately the tarot cards had been annoying the crap out of me. In addition to the unrelenting Knight of Wands, I’d also become—less pleasingly so—haunted by the Disappointment and Strife cards. If I saw either card one more time, I swore I’d launch myself off the Hollywood sign, which stood as a painful reminder outside my window at work. Even a sidelong glimpse of those letters made me sad, because I remembered with aching clarity the first time I’d seen them in person. I remembered feeling that those letters cast a promise to all who viewed them, a promise that anything was possible. Yet here, years later, stuck in an office with a clear view of the taunting sign, those letters only brought to mind Peg Entwistle, the out-of-work actress back in the thirties who couldn’t bear it any longer and hurled herself to her death from atop the
H
. As if that in and of itself weren’t tragic enough, two days after she killed herself, her uncle received news that Peg had just been offered the leading role in a play at the Beverly Hills Playhouse. The way I view that final twist has always been dependent upon my mood, as it’s either a reminder to find a way to last another day (or two), since things will get better, or it’s a harsh statement about the universe’s sick sense of humor.

At any rate, I needed answers. I looked around and determined that the other employees were also on breaks: I caught glimpses of poker Web sites and eBay on flickering computer screens. What the hell, I decided, and slipped out of the room and into an empty office.

As I dialed the number, I felt guilt the way one does when cheating on one’s hairdresser. I was about to betray Aurelia; I was about to have a dalliance with another psychic. But Aurelia wouldn’t read me anymore, so what choice did I have? Essentially she’d driven me to this. This was, basically, her fault.

I was scared to ask Angel about my career, but forced the question. Without pause she told me there would be success in my future, but what I needed to overcome was fear and a karmic block. “You used to be a very famous actress in a past life,” she said. “That’s where your strong ego comes from, but your karma in this life is to be humbled and rejoin the masses.”

I was conflicted. Part of me was thrilled at having been a famous actress, while the other part heard the phrase “rejoin the masses” and wanted to stomp on the phone. I mean,
rejoin the masses
?

What came out was, “Sarah Bernhardt? Was I Sarah Bernhardt?”

“I can’t say. But the sooner you learn the lesson and are humbled, the sooner you’ll be freed from your karma and go on to great success.”

My eyes flickered to the Hollywood sign. I was stuck in an office with computer nerds high on café lattes. Wait. I
was
a computer nerd high on café lattes. Hadn’t I already been humbled?

Then, with words that certainly wouldn’t lend to my humility, she announced that I’d go on to win a Golden Globe.

My smile could’ve blinded passing airplanes with its brilliance, and my eyes stung with tears of joy.

Needless to say, I began calling Angel all the time. With Aurelia’s refusal to read me I’d been left with a huge void in my life, one that Angel with her uplifting readings lovingly filled. Of course Angel wasn’t free, but for some things you just have to find money any way you can—and hearing that I had a future as an actress and wouldn’t be stuck forever in the fish-bowl computer room as an Internet marketer certainly qualified as one of those things. Before I knew it, the credit cards I’d once wisely left at home were in my wallet at all times. And lucky for me, and for Angel, I had a huge credit line.

And then it happened: I had only two weeks left before turning
thirty
.

Granted, I’d contemplated this event every single day since my twenty-sixth birthday, but I was still in no way prepared for the actual experience. The actual experience involved me actually
being
thirty, as in, no longer in my twenties. In a stroke of what some people may have considered regression but I considered genius, I decided to throw myself a party: a good old-fashioned child’s
The Wizard of Oz
–themed party, complete with my parents in the other room sipping spiked drinks. I utterly rebelled against aging, and did so with the Wicked Witch of the West stuck beneath my couch, a yellow brick road twisting through my apartment, and a slightly hazardous game of Pin the Heart on the Tin Man.

And I survived. I awoke the next day with such a feeling of relief. I’d tackled turning thirty and lived to tell about it! But then it hit me. I’d now have to turn thirty-one.

In fact, turning thirty had never been the problem. It was all the years
after
that I should’ve been afraid of. But no matter, I clung to the idea that turning thirty-one or even thirty-two wouldn’t sting nearly as much if I had the love and fame that had been predicted.

One day Angel, my lifeline to my Golden Globe future, told me she was joining up with a psychic Internet site, a place called Psychicdom. I was horrified. I’d just gotten used to our little routine, to my relationship with her, and now all that could change. I’d have to go through the site to reach her, and what if someone else was talking to her? She was
my
psychic, and I was not happy about sharing. Sharing, as a concept, has never been one I’ve embraced. I mean, why share when I can have my own? Why settle for half when I could have the whole? No. Angel, like Aurelia, was betraying me, and I vowed never to forgive her…but decided to check out the site first.

What struck me was that Angel, in whom I’d put my utmost confidence, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Essentially she’d just led me to a smorgasbord of psychics. I could barely breathe, I was so overwhelmed.
Look at them all. And they’re all here for me!
I tried to remain calm as I did a little searching on the site, contemplating the psychics’ names. Would Desire to Love lead me to my knight? Or would Astro Linda point me in his direction? And then there were the photos, sedate Sears portraits and disturbing Glamour Shots, a whole range of psychics from what appeared to be councilmen to cowboys, housewives to waitresses, and of course a few stereotypical gypsies thrown in for the more traditional callers.

Beside their names were stars, five being the highest, so one could feel assured they’d get their money’s worth, money being the obscene amount per minute written in a much smaller font and nestled somewhat off to the side of the alluring stars. And, like eBay, there was feedback, so I was sure that irate callers would expose anyone who failed to live up to their price tag. The system itself was like a security blanket that smothered any doubts I had, and before I knew what was happening, a Visa card with my name on it had jumped from my purse and settled by the phone.

I leaned in toward my computer, studying up on a man named Erlin, who was rated as one of the top three on the site. He looked remarkably like Valentino, his smooth smile, slicked-back hair, and black tux lending the impression that should you request a reading, he’d be forced to set his champagne glass on an ivory-topped table and exit the ballroom, much to the chagrin of a line of women either coyly fanning themselves or discreetly hoisting their cleavage. Surely this Erlin understood romance and love, unlike Ask Ursula, who looked as though the only thing she understood for certain was the location of the best buffet in town.

When I looked up, away from my computer, I realized how late it had gotten. My room was dark but for the eyestrain-inducing glow of my laptop, and I could see from my bedroom window that most of the houses on the street were now only lit by porch lights. The world was going to sleep, but I refused to follow its cue. I needed a reading, and nothing could stop me.

Erlin cost a bit more than Angel, but what the hell. I’d always been taught to appreciate quality not quantity, and I figured if I started straight off with one of the top three psychics on the site, I’d have no need for the hacks. In truth, I was saving myself money by spending so much.

“Hello,”
a soft airy voice said,
“and welcome to Psychicdom. Please hold while we connect you with your adviser. You will be charged the rate of $4.99 a minute. Please don’t forget to leave feedback at the end of your call.”

I barely had time to panic before a calming, almost hypnotic voice came on the line. “Hello, this is Erlin. I sense you’re calling about love…about a love relationship.”

“Well, sort of. I mean, yes. Will I ever have one again?”

I could almost hear him smile through the phone, and the sweetness of what I felt was like sugar after a lifetime of salt. It washed over me. I will have love again, of course I will! Then my mother’s voice, informing me she was okay never having grandchildren, hit me with a thwack, and I tightened my grip on the receiver.

“I see him,” he finally said. “He’s your heart’s desire, everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you never knew you needed. He will absolutely sweep you off your feet.”

“When?” At some point I’d leapt from the bed and begun pacing frantically. I pivoted right as I reached my nightstand, then again as I reached my bookcase. I needed sweeping. I desperately needed sweeping.

“It’s soon, actually. I see him so clearly. He has blondish hair and blue or green eyes. Light eyes.”

I froze. Could he be talking about my Knight of Wands? My Knight of Wands who’d been teasingly announcing his arrival for the last year? “When?
When
do I meet him?”

Though I expected Erlin to ponder the question, to look into his crystal ball or summon the spirits, he instead immediately spit out, “Two weeks.” And that was that. There was no guessing, no big window of time, no room for error—simply “two weeks.” His confidence had completely sold me, and my belief in my knight’s arrival was so firm it was as if God had just faxed me an itinerary.

For kicks I decided to ask about my career, which, despite Angel’s encouragement, I’d pretty much given up on. Erlin again seemed very confident, very assured. “I see a lot of success in your future. Money will not be a problem.”

After a few seconds of joy it occurred to me that the success he was seeing could be from a career as an Internet marketer. I began pacing again. “Can you make sure you’re looking at my career as an actress? Because I’m doing another job on the side.”

“The side”—the side of what? I hadn’t been on an audition in so long that I was an Internet marketer through and through. There was no side. I worried that I was lying to the psychic, something that’s always terrified me. Even getting annoyed with psychics freaks me out, because what if they can read your thoughts? Shouldn’t they be
able
to read your thoughts? What if the words “You crazy bitch, where’s my Golden Globe!” randomly course through their brains as they’re mopping the floor, and they know it’s you? What if they feel your bad thoughts and put a curse on you? What if you never win a Golden Globe
because
of your bad thoughts?

But Erlin gave me no reason to think anything negative, as immediately he responded with, “Yes, your talent will be recognized. You’re very creative.”

“As an actress, right?” I knew I was being picky, but I had to be sure. I’d become pretty damn creative as an Internet marketer, too.

“Yes, as an actress. I see success and recognition.”

“When? When’s that happen?”

“This year there’s a little success, but I see a lot coming in the next few years. I see a role that fits you well.”

A role that fits me well…like on a TV series? A long-running TV series that would mean I’d get my Spanish-style house and my infinity pool? “So, I’ll be famous? I’ll be rich?”

“Yes, you will be famous—and money will never be an issue.”

Beep!
The soft airy voice interrupted.
“You have one minute remaining.”

“Do you see anything else? What else do you see?”

“You’ll be presented with an opportunity. You’ll be on a roll. You’ll feel strong and successful and fulfilled. You need to suspend doubt. Clear your head and make it your intention.”

Beep! “To continue your call at the rate of…”

I yelled a good-bye over the soft airy voice and hung up.

Wow. Love, career, fame, money, being swept off my feet—that was the best call ever. Of course, that call cost me about seventy-five dollars, practically a whole day’s work at my job from hell…. But a glimpse into the future was worth it! Erlin was like a gatekeeper who’d just swung open a door for me, his tux-clad arm indicating a path paved in dazzling gold. And it must be true, he must be right, because he was so highly rated. With Angel or Aurelia I’d always felt a slight tickle of doubt, since I had no proof they were accurate; they had no feedback. But Erlin, Erlin came with an accuracy report!