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Devon Greene is a writer of plays and fiction who lives in Houston.

The Psychic Temp by Devon Greene

Sidney Martin visited his psychic every week like clockwork. He continued to see her in spite of all the wrong predictions she made for him. Of all the psychics he had seen over his lifetime she was the worst. Her predictions never came true. He was going to give her one last chance today to get it right.

He pulled up to her house and parked. Then he pulled his umbrella from under the passenger side seat. It was a rainy day in February and the weather fit his mood perfectly.

Sidney heard the rumors that he was about to be fired. He'd felt it coming for some time. The company was overstretched so he was the most expendable one in the Houston office. He was over fifty; his skills were barely adequate. The younger new hires were faster and more adaptable. Their people skills and language skills were atrocious but the CEO didn't seem to care if everyone got along or not. He just wanted production and Sidney was tired of producing. He offered to take early retirement but that suggestion met with cool sneers. The company profited more by firing him and outsourcing his job. No parachute of any kind for him.

His psychic, Gilda, never predicted this turn of events. She predicted rosy days ahead with prosperity and lots of romance. Of course, he didn't believe her anymore. The company moved him to a smaller office, reassigned his secretary to Tom Jesson, a new hire. They took away his other perks, too, with no warning or apology. That was the way the world worked these days and Sidney accepted it.

Today, he hoped Gilda would say something positive about his future that might turn out to be true. She never predicted his wife would leave him for a younger man. Or that his fifteen-year-old daughter would run away with a Gothic idiot, be sent home promptly when she got pregnant, run away again to live with her mother and her mother's new husband who was his daughter's age. She never predicted his stock market losses, his neighbor's dog biting him, his house being burglarized. Nothing! A real cornucopia of disaster and she never saw it coming. So, he asked himself, does she see what's coming for her today? Sidney was tired of all the misery dripping on him like a deadly resin. Time to spread it around a little.

When he flung open the door and walked in without even wiping his muddy feet on the doormat, his eyes shot fire at Gilda. After she took one look at him, he knew his reading would go badly as usual. She'd told him before that his anger only attracted negative energy to him. He'd have to lighten up if he wanted the universe to respond to his prayers for something good to come into his life. Sidney always laughed with a sneer and usually walked out in a huff when she said these silly things. But her silly predictions gave him some hope for getting through one more week. That's why he kept coming back. Plus, she was prettier than the others he'd known.

Gilda sighed and said, "Hello, Sidney. How is it going for you this week?" He knew she dreaded his answer.

Sidney scowled and shook the water off his umbrella onto her nice fake Persian carpet. He caught her stealing glances at his muddy footprints on it, and he could almost see her blood pressure rising at the thought that she'd have to spend thirty minutes cleaning it after he left. Then he saw her smile to herself, and he figured he'd pay for his rudeness somewhere down the line.

"Please sit down, Sidney. Some hot tea today? Good day for it."

"No thanks, Gilda. Let's just get on with it." He put down his umbrella, took off his raincoat and threw it onto the sofa. Then he sat down across from her at the card table covered with a red velvet cloth that hung to the floor.

"Palm or tarot today?"

"Tarot."

"All right."

She took a deep breath and straightened imaginary folds in the cloth on the table before handing the cards to Sidney to cut. Then she took Sidney's palm in her hand and held it while she closed her eyes for a minute continuing to take deep breaths and exhale.

"Your hands are warm and moist today, Sidney. They're usually cold and dry."

He saw her open one eye to peek at his face. He looked down at his hand and pretended he didn't see her. Then she closed her eyes again and started chanting in a slow, calm rhythm. When she finished her chant she spread the cards across the table.

"Oh, spirits guide me today in reading this man's life and help me give him wisdom to live a life of love and spirit." She hummed the same old chant in her low voice supposedly waiting for the spirit to inspire her and show her Sidney's future.

He knew she'd give him one of her good readings today to cheer him up. He probably looked like he needed it. Even a slug needed a break now and then.

"I see a silver lining appearing for you, Sidney. At long last." She smiled at him. He scowled back. His brown eyes were bloodshot and full of anger and desolation.

"Really? How big a lining and when?"

"Soon. Soon. Your money problems will ease. A new, beautiful woman enters your life very soon." She pointed at the Queen of Hearts. "She will change your life completely. You will never be the same again." She paused as if watching Sidney's reaction to the good news. He stared at her without blinking which seemed to make her nervous. His mouth tightened and his cheeks flushed. He breathed faster but his eyes never left hers.

"Sidney, are you all right? You want some water?"

"No. Keep going. Tell me 'bout the woman. When do I meet her? What does she look like?"

"Ah, ok." She glanced down at the cards again. "You will meet her very soon. I see a fair-haired girlish woman. Young. Tall. A person of strong emotion…like you, Sidney." She looked up and smiled at him again but her smile froze. In his hand Sidney pointed a .22 automatic straight at her heart. There was a cold smile on his lips. His eyes were dilated and staring at her as if he could no longer see Gilda, the person, but simply an annoyance that must be dealt with. He grabbed her hand.

"Too bad you never gave me a single prediction that came true, Gilda. Now it's too late to matter. I just feel like killing someone today. I'm getting shit on everywhere I go so now it's payback time and you are the easiest one to hit. No one will connect me with you so I'll get away with it, too. Even better."

Gilda tried to pull her hand back but he wouldn't let go of it. He squeezed it hard twisting her wrist as he squeezed. She winced and cried, "Sidney, I only see possibilities. You make choices that change the outcome of things. I can't predict those choices. Let my hand go. I can't help you anymore." Sidney squeezed her hand tighter, pulling her forward over the table toward him. He laughed at her now.

"Help Me? Where'd you ever get the idea you helped me? You never got anything right. Some psychic you are. Well, did you foretell this today? Huh? Did you see me coming in with this gun? To kill your ass? What does it say in your hand?" He twisted her hand turning it around to expose the palm. "Read it, Gilda. What does your palm say about your death?"

"Nothing, Sidney, nothing." She lost her balance and fell across the table. Sidney twisted her arm behind her back. "Sidney, let me go. You can fix everything. I saw big money coming to you…like the lottery or something. It will all be better for you. You'll love this girl. I promise you."

Sidney lost all control now. He pulled her off the table and dragged her by her arm behind the velvet curtain hanging in the doorway to her living quarters.

"I've had enough, Gilda. You've made a fool of me for too long. All of you have. Now it's my turn." He threw her down on her bed. As Gilda tried to wiggle away from him, he grabbed her foot and pulled her back.

"Say goodbye, Gilda, to whoever it is you pretend to talk to when you're fleecing people. Say goodbye, now."

"No, no, Sidney! Don't be crazy. You have everything to live for now. Don't be foolish now of all times. Please, Sidney. Let me go."

"Shut up and say goodbye. It's over for you, babe!" He pointed the gun at her head while holding her down. She started to cry. Sidney fired the gun point blank at the center of her forehead and Gilda, the psychic, never saw it coming.

He threw the bedspread over her body but blood seeped through, down to the floor into a puddle. He took a deep breath and put the gun in his waistband. He felt an odd sensation and couldn't quite describe it. But he didn't want to leave the apartment yet. His breathing was too fast and he felt clammy. Wouldn't do to pass out on the pavement in front of Gilda's. He didn't want to attract any attention to himself so he wanted to wait until he calmed down before he left. He went to the bathroom and tried to wash the blood off but it was in his clothes. He took them off and rinsed them out.

Sidney glanced into Gilda's closet and saw the gauzy dresses, gypsy blouses and skirts she wore as her "professional" clothes. He went into the closet and stroked the gauzy dresses and smelled them. They carried Gilda's strong perfume which he liked. She was a large woman and Sidney was an average-size man so he pulled a dress out of the closet and crossed to the mirror. He held the dress up in front of him to see how it looked on him. He liked it.

He'd always wondered what it felt like to wear a dress so he decided to find out for himself. He slipped into the dress. Then he opened a drawer, pulled out one of her scarves, wrapped it around his head the way Gilda did. Added some lipstick and jewelry. He was amazed at the transformation! He laughed at his reflection.

His life had taken a strange turn in just a few moments. When he opened another drawer his jaw dropped. It was full of money. Wrapped, neat piles of hundred dollar bills!

"What the hell?" Where would Gilda get this kind of dough? The psychic scam must be better than he thought. He counted one pile of hundred-dollar bills. There were ten rows three piles thick of hundreds all neatly arranged.

"Good God! We're talking big money here, Gilda. Maybe I should have married you instead of killing you. Too late now." He chuckled and pulled off the headscarf.

Sidney found a large bag in the closet and started stuffing money into it.

"It must be a million or so," he said while licking his lips. Then he opened another drawer––same thing. More money! Sidney had never been so happy as he continued stuffing money into another large bag.

As he laughed and made plans for a new future he heard the front door open when the bell on it tinkled. A customer! Uh oh!

A young female voice called out for Gilda. He had to do something fast to keep her out of this room. So he did the only thing he could think of. He pushed the bags of money under the bed, wrapped the scarf around his head again and sauntered into the front room where he saw a beautiful young blonde girl standing in the middle of the room.

Her huge hazel eyes stared at him with an intensity that made his knees quiver. He was speechless. His thoughts fired randomly and one of them yelled at him, This is the girl, you idiot! The one Gilda promised!

For the first time Gilda had said something that came true. Lots of money and a beautiful new woman to spend it on. The girl wore blue jeans and a tight blue tee shirt showing off her ample curves. She smiled at Sidney and appreciated the effect she had on him.

"Hi. Where's Gilda today?"

His speech slowly returned, "Uh…well…she took off today. Family crisis or something. I'm…." And then he stopped. He suddenly remembered he was dressed as a woman. What should he do? He couldn't lose this girl. Not now. He needed her more than he'd ever needed anyone. He had to think of a name . . . fast.

"I'm Jimmie."

"Jimmie?" She looked skeptical, eyeing him closely from head to toe.

"Jimmie Sue. I'm a friend of Gilda's. Told her I'd sit in for her today while she was out. You know––just helping out." He knew the story was ridiculous and she'd never accept it but he hoped she'd find it funny. Women loved men who made them laugh.

"Like a temp?" She laughed at the idea.

Sidney smiled, too, glad she had bought the story. "Yeah, like a temp. A psychic temp. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah. Funny." She moved toward the table like a panther circling its prey.

"Well, can you read my cards?"

"Cards?"

"Tarot cards."

"Oh, of course. Sure, I can. Let me clean these up from the last suck…uh, customer."

He picked up the cards and shuffled them. He didn't have the slightest idea how to read them. So he'd make it up. He was sure Gilda and all the others who'd read his had made up most of it. Maybe the girl wouldn't know the difference. He hoped not. He had to keep her––forever.

He took the cards and spread them all over the table haphazardly. The girl was already sitting down with both hands in her lap, and she watched him closely as he laid the cards out. He knew there was supposed to be some pattern for the cards but, right now, his brain was too frazzled for him to remember.

Then the girl started laughing. A cold, hard laugh out of those soft beautiful lips. Sidney didn't care. He just wanted to kiss them and soon. Then he glanced at her eyes. Cold and hard, too. Angry. Narrowed like a cat's before it struck. They looked green now.

She slowly lifted one hand above the table, and it was holding a gun. A large one. Sidney couldn't take his eyes off the gun now.

"Ok, bubba, where is it? What did you do to Gilda?"

"Huh, where's what?"

"The money, dope! The money! Where is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You only have a few seconds left to live. Gilda's not gone. She's dead, isn't she? How did you know about the money? She wouldn't have told anyone about it."

"I, uh, don't know what you're talking about."

"Ok, stupid. Last chance." She stood up and yelled, "Mother! Mother! Where are you? Are you ok?" A loud silence reverberated through the house now. Sidney slumped in his pretty dress.

It's not fair, he thought to himself.

The blonde went to the front door, locked it and picked up a throw pillow to muffle the sound of the shot. Sidney could not move. He'd left his own gun in the other room beside his own clothes.

"What have you done with her?" She held the gun about twelve inches from his brain which was suddenly flooded with bad memories of his entire life. As he started to stand up she hit him with the barrel of the gun knocking him off-balance. He fell back into the chair.

"You're a dead man if you hurt my mother."

He was a dead man.

She moved to the side and glanced into the back room searching for her mother. Then she said in a low blood-curdling voice, "Get up, you son of a bitch. Get up."

He stood slowly. She motioned for him to turn and go into the back room. Sidney put his hands up and walked ahead of her. He figured he had about ten more steps left in his life.

She spotted the blood on the carpet beside the bed and then saw Gilda's feet jutting out from under the bedspread. She gaped at the body's shape under the covers for a minute and then sobbed.

Sidney turned suddenly to grab the gun while she was distracted but she was too fast for him. She backed up and aimed the gun at him. He stopped.

"What did you do with the money? It's ours. We did the work. It's ours."

"Work?" He was curious. Psychic work paid that well? That was hard to believe.

"You must've read a helluva lot of tarot cards for that amount of money, kiddo. And, frankly, she wasn't that good."

"You bastard. It's not from palm reading or tarots. That was just a front for suckers like you. We launder money for drug dealers. "

Sidney now felt foolish for thinking palm reading was the source of the money.

"Oh. I get it. Did she hold it for you? Something like that?"

"Something."

"I won't tell anyone. Just let me go."

"You're right about that. You won't tell anyone––ever!"

She raised the gun and Sidney crossed his arms in front of his head. The blast was loud in spite of the pillow, and it was the last sound he heard. His blood ruined the real Persian rug in this room. As he died, he realized, ironically, that all the positive predictions Gilda promised him had finally come true. He came into a lot of money, met a beautiful new woman, and she changed his life.

THE END