Page 54 - The Myth and the Moment

Afternoon

gets no exercise. I’ll threaten to kick his ass over the side of the hill if
he doesn’t surrender the goods. Yeah.
“So how does he expect me to get up there? Walk?”
“I’ll take you up there. I have some clients coming at three, but the
place is ready and there’s not much traffic. Shall we go?”
“Okay.”
God, I feel tired now. Headache still awake and pulsing. Got her
purse and heading for the door in one smooth movement. Could
easily carry a gun in that purse. Allison the pistol-packin’ mama.
Sure, Nate. What is that incense smell in here? Not a cheap perfume.
Real spiritual vibes in the living room; maybe the smell of cash, too.
What did Yeats say when he sat down on the discarnate soul in
Madame Blavatsky’s parlor? Who can remember? Had to be funny,
though. And out the door.
“Just close it behind you, Nate; it’ll lock by itself.”
Right. For her the elevator is already waiting. Perhaps she
summoned it up here with telekinesis. Aestheria the wild talent, the
witch without portfolio. Wonder who her man is? No, not Phil! He
might be getting it on the side, but not from her. He’d be looking for
some flashy young broad to give him back his youth, as pop
psychology would have it. So what kind of hold could he have on
her? Or she on him? Just friends, lovers no more; just friends, not
like before. Bird with Strings. The flawless gem in a dime-store setting.
Wish I still had those old records. What floor is this? Oh, basement
parking lot.
“Over there, Nate. The red Azuki convertible.”
Not bad for a free-lance mystic!
“Hey, nice car, Aestheria. Must have cost you plenty. Or was it a
gift?”
“Really, Nate! I’m glad to see you’ve regained your sense of humor.
But let’s keep this on a mature level, okay? And please put on your
seat belt.”
“All right, all right; I’m sorry. My poor little brain has gotten too
many stimuli today. I’ll sit quietly, if not maturely.”
Forget being nasty to her! It bounces off like rain on Turtle Wax.
Let her be a mystery. Probably the truth about her last twenty years
would read like a very boring soap opera. Maybe she’s just doing me
a favor, because she’s so sweet and kind-hearted. Maybe she’s

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