"Ladies, good evening. I am the Great Luna," she says, her gold bracelets clinking together. "Would you like your tea leaves read?"
"Yes!" Zaza says immediately. "Read the fortune of our friend Tara. It's her birthday."
"No, thank you," I say quickly.
"It's your twenty-first birthday, darling," Zaza insists, already pulling out a chair for the woman. "Live a little."
Luna settles in with a theatrical flourish. "May I see your teacup, madam?" Reluctantly, I slide the cup across the scarred table.
She makes a show of examining the dregs, tilting the cup this way and that before pouring out most of the remaining liquid with a dramatic flourish.
Keesha and Zaza lean in to watch Luna peer into my cup as if she's reading the secrets of the universe. To me, it's just soggy tea leaves clinging to chipped white porcelain.
"What do you see?" Keesha asks, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
"I see..." The fortune teller looks up, her piercing eyes locking onto mine. "I see you on a stage! Under the bright lights!"
My hand flies to my locket as I gasp.
Zaza snorts, nearly choking on her Prosecco. "Every girl in Manhattan wants to be on stage! The way you're dressed, I pegged you for the real deal."
"But it's true," Luna insists, her gaze never leaving mine. "I see you on stage. You are singing in a very high voice."
Keesha sits up straight, suddenly alert. Both my friends are superstitious, but Keesha’s family is from Ethiopia. She takes supernatural beliefs to another level.
"Go on," she urges, turning to Luna.
"I see a distinguished crowd applauding you," Luna continues, her accent thickening with conviction. "You will be a great success."
"I'm not paying for career predictions." Zaza waves her hand dismissively. "Tara's 21 tonight! Tell us about her love life."
"Hey," I say, "I'm the one who should ask the questions. It's my teacup!"
Luna ignores us both, peering deeper into my cup. "In the past, you were hurt. Someone made you afraid to open your heart. That fear lingers still."
Her blue eyes search mine for answers.
My stomach drops like I've been punched. The deli noise fades to background static.
"Zaza, Keesha, thanks for this birthday treat. But that’s enough."
"There's more," Luna says, peering even more closely at the dregs in the cup. "A man will soon appear. He's tall, dark, and handsome. Women all over the world want him. ..."
"Now you're talking!" says Zaza, rubbing her hands together. "A real Prince Charming, right?"
"A good man," Luna agrees, turning back to me. "He will enter your life shortly. Maybe you already know him. He'll fall in love with you at first sight. But then?—"
Luna sees something in the cup that makes her gasp. She looks up quickly. "But something happens. I can't see exactly what. But his initial attraction turns to hate."
I nearly choke on my sparkling wine. "What?" I sputter. "My future lover hates me?"
"Yes. He hates you at first. But then?—"
"Love, hate, love. What nonsense," Zaza sighs, her faith in mysticism clearly wavering. "So much for out-of-work actresses." She hands Luna a fistful of cash and motions for her to leave.
"Total fake fortune teller," I say, "But it's the thought that counts."
"Don't speak so quickly, Tara," Keesha says thoughtfully. "You're studying opera. And that Luna woman said she saw you singing on the stage. That's a hard thing to guess."
