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So, yes, Brynn not responding to her texts for well over ten hours was sign number one that something was wrong. Sign number two was that Brynn hadn’t come back home that night. If she was staying with a guy, cool, but she would normally inform Shavonne because it was a rare occurrence. They’d made a pact less than a year ago that they’d never sleep at a guy’s house again unless the relationship was serious. They wanted to get their lives on track, which meant focusing on themselves first. But Brynn had met up with her ex, and Shavonne figured this ex had triggered Brynn and made her disregard their pact. Not that Shavonne really cared about her breaking it. It was going to break eventually, when they each found the loves of their lives, but Brynn didn’t mention staying the night with this ex of hers. It’s not rare that someone hooks up with a past fling again, but something about this guy being in New Orleans struck Shavonne as odd. She specifically remembered Brynn saying her last real relationship was with a guy from North Carolina. Brynn had some flings in college, but nothing that was ever serious. What was this ex doing in their city in the first place? Had Brynn been talking to him all this time and not telling her?
At first, Shavonne figured Brynn needed a night to be wild and reckless. But see . . . that was the issue. There was a night when they were wild and reckless, and Shavonne had almost been sexually assaulted in an alley. She and Brynn were having a night out barhopping and Shavonne had decided she could walk to an ATM by herself for some quick cash so they could order more drinks. Her short walk out of the bar turned into a nightmare. A man grabbed her, shoved her against a wall, and groped her. He went under her skirt while choking her, so she’d be still and quiet. Brynn found Shavonne in the alley and maced the hell out of that man, sparing Shavonne heaps of trouble and possibly a sexually transmitted disease. After that, Brynn bought Shavonne a protection kit (bear spray and a pocketknife) and promised to never let Shavonne out of her sight and vice versa when they went out. New Orleans, just like any other city, had its dangers, but so long as they stuck together, they’d survive.
Shavonne and Brynn were more like sisters, really. They always said so. Both of them came from shitty childhoods. Both attended Loyola University where they were dormmates for all four years before graduating and becoming real-life roomies. They had their moments where they’d bicker and, sure, Shavonne could be a little overbearing, demanding, and a bit of a neat freak, but regardless of all that, they meshed. Brynn was laidback and chill, where Shavonne was more alert and hyperaware of everything.
Ever since she was a child, Shavonne envisioned the worst-case scenarios. She couldn’t help it, really. Her parents died from a worst-case scenario when she was sixteen. They’d gone on a winter cruise and her mother accidentally fell off the boat. Her father jumped in after to save her. There was a whole rescue situation but neither her mother nor father survived.
When her parents passed, all she wanted was to speak to them again, to hear them. She believed in spirits and the afterlife and had even dabbled in witchcraft here and there. She believed that certain crystals let off good and bad energy, and that superstitions were true.
Shavonne was living with her aunt Trudy on 7th Ward when she paid a visit to a psychic in Garden District. She’d saved money from her job at a burger joint just to see this woman, despite Aunt Trudy’s warnings.
“Mess with people like them, and they’ll mess with you,” Aunt Trudy scolded when Shavonne mentioned going to see her.
The psychic’s name was Krystal, a plump black lady with bushy gray hair and a smile that reminded her of the Cheshire Cat. She owned a little voodoo shop that was more like a hole in the wall called Magic Hour. Shavonne paid Krystal $75 to have Krystal “call” her parents in the afterlife. The room they were in was closet-sized and stuffy, with trinkets lining the wall and incense wafting about, but Shavonne swore she felt the energy change when Krystal closed her eyes and called for her parents.
“They miss you,” Krystal said with a smile. “Oh, Shavonne, you look just like your mother. She wants you to stop taking the medication your psychiatrist prescribed to you. She wants you to heal and grow without them.”
Shavonne broke down crying after those words left Krystal’s mouth. Truth was, she hadn’t cried much since her parents died. She’d been bottling it in, trying to figure out why them, why her? Why, why, why? And now Krystal was talking about the medication she’d never even mentioned, and it was proof—proof that the afterlife was real, and that all her studies were true. Well, at first. The truth (and something she later discovered) was that Krystal had taken a peek inside her purse when she placed it on the floor before her reading.
Despite it not being real, it gave Shavonne comfort for the time being, and Krystal took Shavonne under her wing. Shavonne wanted to know everything about being a psychic, seeing into other people’s minds, knowing their secrets, and seeing as Krystal was getting up in age and would need someone to take over the shop one day, she let Shavonne hang around to tidy up the shop and run the register.
Shavonne learned how to palm read, which crystals were best to wear for wealth and positivity, and even how to feel other people’s energy. The last bit, Shavonne realized as she got older, was just a gift rooted inside empathetic people. She felt it all and could sense a negative vibe or a bad person from a mile away—even a bad situation made the hair on her arms rise. She felt all of this in that moment and it was those feeling that had her worried to death about Brynn.
Shavonne paced the apartment then paused by the window that revealed the busy street. She and Brynn had installed an app called The Green Dot on their phones. It was an app that could be used for many reasons—one parents could install on their kids’ phones, or for a bitter boyfriend or girlfriend to install on their romantic partner’s device to see where they’ve been without the partner knowing. But she and Brynn used it because it helped them know where each other were, especially on nights when they went out.
She looked up Brynn’s location, as she’d done less than ten minutes ago, and it was still pinned somewhere outside the Garden District. If she were still with her ex, she’d be at the Ritz Carlton like she’d planned. She’d been texting Shavonne all night with pictures, bragging about the scene, the singers, the drinks.
Shavonne drew in a slow breath and gave Brynn another call.
No answer.
She fired up another text in all caps: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU BRYNN? I’M WORRIED!
Brynn had a work shift at eleven o’clock and it was already nine-thirty in the morning. She never missed work and wouldn’t start missing it now over an ex from high school. Shavonne sat on the sofa, blinking at her phone, waiting for a message or a call from her best friend. When a measly five minutes passed, she called Krystal.
“Vonnie?” Krystal answered.
“Hi, Krystal. Do you think I can take the day off? I have a bit of an upset stomach. Probably that crawfish I had last night.”
“Oh no! Do you still have some of the peppermint chamomile tea blend I gave you?”
“I do.” Shavonne’s eyes flickered to the tiny kitchen, where the rack of teas from Magic Hour were. She hated lying to Krystal, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. Krystal needed her now more than ever since she was diagnosed with high blood pressure. Krystal, the woman who only ate fruit, vegetables, and drank tea, had high blood pressure. Go figure.
“Well, drink some tea and get better. I’ll man the shop today, don’t worry about it.” Shavonne could tell Krystal was smiling, which made her feel even worse for lying. But she’d feel downright awful if she didn’t trust her gut and go after Brynn.
Something wasn’t right, and she was going to find out. Worst case scenario, Brynn had been kidnapped then killed. Best case, she’d just forgotten to call or text back and was fucking her ex in every position she could.
When Shavonne hung up, she rushed to the closet and got dressed in dark brown joggers and an oversized T-shirt. She tugged down a black zipper hoodie, just in case, and went for her keys in the key bin.
Inside her car, she checked Brynn’s location on the app again, then entered the address of it into her phone’s navigation app and followed it.
FORTY-FOUR
SHAVONNE
Four years ago
By the time Shavonne reached the location, her hands were clammy, and she was thirsty. She picked up the plastic bottle of water from her cupholder that’d been sitting in her car for the past two days and gulped some down as she turned onto a street she’d never been on before.
