Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Stick to the point,” Caz says, irritation lacing his voice.
“Ay, man. What’s your problem?” Phil snaps, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s sucking so hard on that Jolly Rancher. “Why you so mad?”
“I’m not mad. We simply don’t have time to sit here listening to you talk about organs and jellyfish,” Caz tells him.
“All right, all right, Fine. Whatever. So anyway, I did my digging, and I came across this website about a man who got his legs.”
“A man who got his legs?” I repeat, confused.
“Yeah. This man said he found a woman who helped him walk. He was a paraplegic, legs didn’t work. Wheelchair bound, you know the deal. But he wrote about how he met this woman in New Orleans during a trip. Said the woman saw him and promised she could make him walk. He didn’t believe her, but he kept thinking about what she could offer, so he went back to her. She recited a whole bunch of mumbo-jumbo, told him to close his eyes, and he’d see a blue light. When he saw it, she told him to go to the light, and he’d walk. And he did. He said he saw the light and felt like he’d been suctioned into another place. The man walked—only he wasn’t walking here, on Earth. He swears he was somewhere else. Somewhere where the world was richer, the trees greener—he was free, and he said he was running. He could feel his legs, his feet on the ground, the grass between his toes, all that. He said it was the best experience of his life, and you know it was because he kept paying this woman just to feel himself walking. He became addicted to the feeling. He swears it was real. The man went into debt because he kept going back to her.” He shifts the Jolly Rancher to his right cheek.
“Anyway, it wasn’t the fact that she helped him feel like he could walk that got my attention. It was how he mentioned being sucked into a blue light, like a portal or something, and it reminded me of the glitter I saw. I reached out to him, and he kept telling me to trust the portals—that the portals are our friends—that we’re capable of all things through them. Some mad shit that I didn’t really care about. I asked for the woman’s information, and he gave it to me, and I went all the way to New Orleans to see her…and I shit you not, she showed me the portal too.” Phil’s eyes are nearly bulging through his glasses. “I was so close to it, but she closed it up right when I was about to reach it, said I had to pay her $5,000 if I wanted to see Marney again.”
Faye gasps. “Seriously?”
“Yep. And I was willing to do anything for Marney, but I ain’t have the money then, right? So, I took the money out of Marney’s bank account. Her brother caught me and started accusing me of crazy stuff—about how I hired someone to take her, get rid of her, just to have her money. Cause Marney was a big shot—I forgot to tell y’all that. She owned this Tex-Mex restaurant called Bodega’s. Big in the V.A. Made good money. And her brother thought I set her up just to take her money.”
“Well? Did you?” Caz probes, and Phil frowns, turning in his chair to glare at him.
“Fuck you, man! I’d never do anything like that! Marney was gonna be my wife!”
“Caz,” I snap, glaring at him before focusing on Phil again. “Please don’t take anything he says personally, Phil. He’s…still learning.”
Phil’s anger radiates off of him, and I turn my head to shoot a glare at Caz again. If he doesn’t stop with the snark, we’ll never get this woman’s information. Caz raises a hand, as if he gets the point.
“Listen, Phil. Caz isn’t from here,” I say, putting my attention on him again. “He’s from another universe. A place called Vakeeli.”
Phil’s eyes stretch as he observes Caz deeper. “Shit.”
“Yeah, and right now he’s in a lot of danger. We both are, actually. We’re just trying to find someone from here who can help us. This woman who showed you the portal…what was her name?”
Phil tugs on his bottom lip, thinking about it. “She went by Effie, I think.”
“And do you know where exactly in New Orleans we can find her?”
“When I went, she had a shop close to the French Quarter. A place called Yakaree, or something like that—smelled like incense and fish in there, and she had these little animal skulls—”
“Did you just say Yakaree?” Caz moves in closer, eyes locked on Phil. His face is paler, the blueness seeming to have melted away from his eyes. I frown. What’s gotten into him?