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“Read your palm for free, hon,” Antoinette called after Zeke. “Read anything else on you for free, too.”
This earned her twitters from the cotton candy girls, and a wry grin from Zeke. She’d made the same offer each of the four days Zeke had been doing odd jobs and lugging equipment around the carnival.
“Maybe another time,” he answered, and she tsk’ed at him in regret.
Zeke had brought a brown paper bag down to the outskirts of Memphis from Boston with the promised delivery price of $1,000 only to discover that no one had heard of the man he was supposed to deliver it to, and the arranged meeting place housed a traveling carnival. The restaurant named in his instructions had seemingly burned down three years prior.
He’d hung around all day, feeding Casey junk food until he’d been sick and Zeke had called it in.
“Hey,” the man at the gate said as they left, “you find that guy?”
“No,” Zeke said shortly. “Thanks anyway.”
“Hey,” the man said again as Zeke started for the car, steering a tired, hot, queasy Casey with a hand on his elbow, “you looking for work? One of our guys busted up his arm and we’re short.”
Zeke decided he didn’t want to know what was in the bag, and paused while crossing a bridge to toss it in the river. He showed up to work at the carnival the next day, with the promise of five days’ work for half of what turning over the bag would have brought. Still, it got them a crappy hotel room, and it put gas in the car.
His first assignment had been to patch up the sagging roof on the fortune teller’s little trailer. Antoinette had stood outside to watch him work with undisguised interest.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked when Zeke came down from the roof. “The one hanging around with you yesterday.”
“My little brother,” Zeke said. “He’s back at our room, probably watching television and eating junk food.” If he wasn’t hiding in the bathtub or tearing through every piece of clothing they both had looking for a shirt Zeke knew perfectly well Casey had lost years before, which was how they had spent the morning.
“That’s what little brothers do best,” Antoinette said, and then made her offer. “Read your palm, on me. Or you could just be on me, if you’d rather.”
Zeke snorted, and chuckled, and gave her that sly naughty-boy smile that seemed to work so well on all types of women. “Maybe another time,” he said, and winked at her.
_____
Zeke’s gig was up on night five, and he decided to save himself the $30 for the room, and get on the road as soon as the gates closed at one. That meant bringing Casey along with him, but Casey had tagged along on worse jobs than this before.
“Last night, Zeke?” Antoinette called over as he delivered a box to the cotton candy girls.
“Yep,” he answered, and meandered over to her once he’d rid himself of the box.
“Then let me give you that reading,” she purred, but for once her voice was not so much seductive as it was friendly. “Even do your brother, too.”
Zeke wavered -- it could be good for a laugh, but it was hard to tell how Casey would take anything -- and while he did, Antoinette took his hand in hers and held it up to the lantern-lights strung from her trailer.
“Well, well, aren’t you the interesting one,” she murmured, and ran a nail along Zeke’s palm.
“Why?” Zeke asked, drawn in despite himself by the tone of her voice and the musing look on her face.
“Come in, and let me look,” she answered, letting go of his hand and winking at him before going inside.
Zeke looked over at Casey, who was yawning and bored. “Whaddya say, Case? Wanna go in and hear our fortunes?”
“Yeah,” Casey said with half-interest. “But you know Mom says this stuff is occult and it means drugs.”
“That’s what your mom says about everything,” Zeke said seriously, because he has learned from years of non-sequitur conversations with Casey that Mrs. Connor did, indeed, think any number of seemingly innocent behaviors pointed to drug use.
“Come on, we just won’t tell her,” Zeke assured Casey, and taking his hand, led him inside.
He hadn’t been inside this trailer yet, and it smelled of incense. The gold light from the table lamp didn’t reveal much of the room save Antoinette and the empty chair across from her. Zeke sat in it when she gestured, and gave her his hand.
“So I’m interesting,” Zeke said, and she hummed in response, turning his hand to better see it in the light.
“You’re a different one,” she said. “Not quite what I thought.” She ran a nail along one of the lines in his palm again, and Zeke felt a little shiver up his spine.
“Smart,” Antoinette said. “But impulsive. You don’t always use those smarts, let what you feel get in the way. And you feel deeply, don’t you? You’re not lukewarm about anything. You either don’t care about something at all, or you care about it so much it hurts.”
She stroked the backs of her fingers across his palm and peered at it again. Zeke wondered how she did reading the palm of someone she hadn’t had the luxury of observing for the past week.
“A rough life, but a good one,” she said quietly. “I cannot see, though, how it ends, or when. There are too many paths before you yet.” She folded his hand, and set both of hers on top of it, then looked coyly up at him. “Ah, you are disappointed. I have not told you anything you did not know.”
Zeke shrugged. “It’s your time, not mine,” he said. “On you, remember?”
She nodded, a little smile playing about her lips. “I do. I remember I said I’d do your brother, too. Come, sit, sweetheart,” and she gestured to Casey.
Zeke got up from the chair. “That’s all right,” he said. “Thanks, Antoinette. It was -- interesting.” He took Casey by the elbow to steer him out.
“No, Zeke, I want my fortune, too,” Casey said suddenly. Zeke hesitated, and Antoinette gave him a look that clearly said, “What can it hurt?” Zeke relented, releasing Casey’s elbow, and Casey eagerly sat in the seat.
“Just don’t tell Mom, OK?” he said to Zeke, who nodded wearily.
“Our secret,” he said, and Casey offered up his palm.
Antoinette took it tenderly in her hands and tipped it to the light. “Oh,” she said, and Zeke saw something dark flit across her face. It was quickly gone, and she gave Casey a kind smile.
“Smart, like your brother,” she said. “You’ve had some bad times, I can see, but look here,” and she ran a finger along one of the lines, “you’ve had someone looking out for you.” She leaned forward and looked intently at Casey’s hand, and her expression was pained.
“You see so clearly,” she whispered. “You see so clearly for one who is lost.” Her eyes traveled up Casey’s hand to his wrist, and focused on the scar there. She straightened up, and smiled softly at Casey.
“You will have many travels,” she said, “and you will be deeply loved.”
“Does it say when I die?” Casey asked with untroubled interest.
“Ah, no,” Antoinette said, and swallowed hard. “The hands tell me much, but not always that.” She folded Casey’s hand as she had Zeke’s, and held her hands over it for a moment before letting him go.
The hairs on the back of Zeke’s neck were standing up, and he suddenly couldn’t stand to be in that trailer another second. “Come on, Casey,” he said abruptly, and tugged at Casey’s arm.
“All right,” Casey agreed. “Thanks, lady. That was neat. Many travels, and deeply loved. That’s a good fortune, right, Zeke?”
“Sounds like it,” Zeke said, and met Antoinette’s eyes over Casey’s head. They were filled with regret. “Let’s go now, buddy.”
She stopped him while Casey was on the steps, a hand to his arm, pressed close to whisper. Zeke could smell incense and cheap perfume and dust and sugar from the cotton candy stand next door.
“Take care of him,” she whispered. “Take care of him, Zeke. You must.”
“I know,” Zeke said simply, and walked away.