Free Tea Leafing: A Novel by Weezie Macdonald Page A

couch
cushions, pen poised for her favorite activity — list making. Nothing
soothed her nerves like a little organization. Labeling things in her apartment
was a guilty pleasure she indulged in when the daily stress closed in. The pads
she bought were lined on one side and gridded on the other so she could make
sketches and doodles of things she needed to remember in addition to her
printed list. This tablet was her own version of a diary, but rather than
thoughts, she recorded events, purchases, earnings, and interesting facts. To
most, it would have looked like a hodgepodge of scraps. But to Sam it was a
timeline. She took great comfort in ritual.
    Flipping back through
the pages of her pad, she thought about what Lena had written. She wondered if
she would have been smart enough to leave such a detailed log of events in case
her notes would have to speak for her. Pulling the cloth-wrapped diary from her
bag, she leafed through the pages, letting her eyes skim the neatly penned
cursive.
    She walked to her
computer and positioned the open diary on the glass plate of her scanner. Methodically,
she scanned every page, converting them to PDFs and saving them to a memory
stick attached to her keychain. She had been elected by the group to scan and
archive the contents of Lena’s diary since she had all the requisite equipment
and know-how to accomplish the task.
    It took a few hours to
record the entire book, but in doing so, Sam had had the opportunity to reread
every page several times. She jotted cryptic notes onto the grid paper along
with her sketches and hooked the pen clasp into the spiral binding.
    “I’m scared. I don’t
know where this will end.”
    Those were the last
words Lena had written in the diary, save for the notation “FLW.”   In fact, “FLW” was the cryptic coda to
each of the last five entries Lena had made in the chronicle of her truncated
life.
    Stopping to give her
thirsty plants some relief from the drama-induced drought, she put Shostakovich
on the stereo.
    The task completed, she
headed out to drop the evidence in her safe deposit box.

 
 
 
    CHAPTER 15
    Sitting next to Grace
in an oversized, heated, massaging pedicure chair, Sam relaxed. A small Laotian
lady worked on her feet. Kneading out knots and sloughing away the nubs of dead
skin that built-up quickly from the eight-hour stints in platform shoes was a
big job. Rocky, her favorite nail guy, worked on one of her hands, massaging
and filing to perfection. Everyone at the salon knew Sam and Grace by name. In
fact, they knew a lot of strippers because they tip better than almost anyone,
earning them the royal treatment. Beauty being their business, it was all a
legitimate tax write-off.
    The girls were always bumped
to the front of the line, even as walk-ins. The business types and
suburbanistas glared as the girls were ushered back to the prime real estate.
    “Tell me what you know,
Rocky.” Sam said to the large Laotian man gently working her cuticles back with
an orange stick wrapped in cotton.
    The Rock was the nail
man of choice because he kept Sam laughing, but also because he was one of the
best nail techs in town. Standing at an impressive six foot three, Rocky had a
boyish handsomeness and was straight as an arrow. Straight enough to realize
that doing nails surrounds you with women all day long. Rocky’s station
overflowed with the tall, gold-tone trophies he’d won for his modified Acura at
specialty car shows. He had framed articles from magazines that featured his
ride hanging over a small Buddha guarding his emory boards. He’d told Sam that
he had come to the states when he was five. His English was perfect. He had a
slightly thuggish, hip-hop way about him, but he was harmless.
    “Not much. Got a show
this weekend.” He continued to work Sam’s cuticles with a thoughtful look on
his face.
    “Did you hear about
Lena?” Grace raised her head from the headrest.
    Rocky bobbed his head
in a nod, not looking