Free Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch by Juliet C. Obodo Page A

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?