Mimi

By Eric Karell

"Mimi' is the story of of one man's obsession with the woman of his dreams. the novel explores lust, loss, true love and what people will do to try and change their fate.
In 1978, Karl Cerelli is a promising young attorney and writer in los angeles. he enjoys a nearly perfect life. One night at a party he meets Cynthia Jamison, an older "B" movie actress and the most famous nude model of the decade.They are immediately drawn to each other and spend the night having mind-blowing sex.She tells him her real name and that all of her friends back home call her Mimi. Karl is smitten with the beautiful redhead but Cynthia has a predilection for older, wealthier men with access to drugs.
Karl is saddened but distracts himself with an assortment of female companionship. Then Karl's best friend Bill,a police detective, gets Karl an invitation to a party at the "bachelor pad" the home of the magazine that Cynthia posed for. When Karl calls Cynthia to invite her to the party, she tells him she is bringing her boyfriend. He then calls a fellow lawyer, Deborah Ann Marbeaux, a beautiful, ruthless southern belle from Alabama. Deborah Ann is thrilled to hear from Karl. she has been in love with him since they met several years earlier and desperately wants to marry him. They go to the party where Deborah Ann is the center of attention. Cynthia shows up and tells Karl she is breaking up with her boyfriend. Karl is now conflicted and must make a choice between a life of stability and comfort with Deborah Ann or the uncertain path of wooing the wild and unpredictable Cynthia. His decision is not helped by the fact that his best friend, Deborah Ann, his family and even the owner of the magazine Cynthia posed for, all think Mimi will only break his heart.
Cynthia calls Karl up several days later and invites him to celebrate her birthday. Karl is thrilled and plans a romantic getaway to Lake Tahoe. They enjoy a fantastic week of amazing sex and getting to know each other. On Mimi's birthday Karl gives her a special present-a screenplay he has written just for her. She is overcome with emotion, since the main character in the manuscript would be the role she has been searching for.All seems to be going well until the day they are leaving when Karl accidentally discovers a small stash of heroin in Mimi's belongings. She becomes furious . They arrive back in Los Angeles where Mimi tells Karl he is out of her league and they are finished. she leaves his screenplay on the seat of the car.
Karl is crushed and realizes how foolish he's been. Unexpectedly, he receives a call from his literary agent. the biggest producer in Hollywood is interested in his screenplay. Karl meets the producer and his wife, a well known actress, at a popular restaurant to discuss the script. Things are going well, when Mimi appears with her drug dealing boyfriend and humiliates Karl. he is devastated , retreats to the men's room and breaks down. He regains his composure and joins the producer, more confident than ever and starts discussing terms for the sale of his screenplay.
After the incident in the restaurant,Karl decides that he can no longer stay in Los Angeles. he interviews at law firms in several cities but decides one in Atlanta is the most attractive. He also sleeps with the senior partner's daughter while there.
Karl returns to Los Angeles with his mind made up that he will take the offer. as he gets out of his cab and walks to his front door , Mimi is waiting for him,
"Mimi' is a novel with many twists and turns. at time the reader will be challenged to decide what is real and what is merely the manifestation of hope. The book demonstrates the fine line between dreams and nightmares-and how easily love can lead to obsession.
The ending is quite shocking and seems to come out of nowhere, but the clues are there.
Like Mimi herself, the book is seductive, sometimes cruel but always irresistible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Karell
• Release date: Aug 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311162373

Eric Karell

A resident of Georgia for over 35 years, Eric is a native of New York City. He attended the University of Michigan and graduated with honors fro the Culinary Institute of America. He is a professional chef and has worked at some of the finest hotels, restaurants and private clubs in the Atlanta area. Eric has been writing since high school editing it's student newspaper, contributing to the Michigan Daily, and continues to scribe articles for industry journals and newsletters His primary modern literary influences are john Steinbeck, Richard Brautigan, Ray Bradbury, John Farris, Stephen King and Clive Barker. Eric still reads many classic authors such as Shakespeare and William Blake. "Mimi" is his first published novel. Eric says " People may be shocked by the graphic nature of the eroticism in the book. In all honesty, I thought it reflected the needs of the characters and I pretty much wanted to see if I could write believable love scenes.I worked very hard on character development and dialogue, as well." Eric's next book will be published this Fall and is called "The Devil's Sous Chef". "The book is not only a culinary adventure but has a serious narrative running through it. I think it will appeal to foodies, people in the culinary industry, and anyone who enjoys a good story. I tried to create a character who was the epitome of an amoral, evil, and charming rogue. Eric is also in the process of finishing up his most complex project to date, the biography of model and actress Claudia Jennings. "Claudia was one the world's most beautiful women. That alone makes her memorable. The fact that she was also intelligent, warm, generous and died tragically at only twenty-nine years of age, makes her story compelling. Unfortunately, she is slowly being forgotten and if she is remembered, it is for the wrong thing. I hope my book will show the reader a more accurate picture of her life." Eric also has two other novels being edited and is working on two cookbooks and a book of short stories. "I don't do normal. I never have. There are a lot of things that interest me. My next novel may be a crime thriller or a non-fiction book on the natural history of the state of Georgia. I try not to take myself too seriously. Even though I was successful chef, I never was too impressed with my accomplishments. I've worked with people far more talented than I.It's humbling. Maybe someday I'll consider myself a writer. Or perhaps, I'll wake up some day and realize my true calling is something different. It's not something I worry about. Now let's go bowling."

Book preview

Mimi

ERIC KARELL

Published by Eric Karell at Smashwords. Inc.s

Copyright © 2014 By Eric Karell

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1496037030

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s Forward

I do not feel bound to believe, feel, think or perceive as others expect or command me to do. Nor do I expect others to believe as I do.

My words are not meant to wound or inflict harm. The world is over inhabited by those more talented and well armed for those endeavors than I am.

So please, enjoy the words you are about to read and feel free to believe what they tell you about yourself. I wrote this book as a prayer for a person I will never know and as a prayer for myself.

Eric

Disclaimer

This novel is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

Eyes look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you the doors of breath , seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain into engrossing death.

Romeo and Juliet, Act five, Scene three

William Shakespeare

Prologue

It will be like starting over, like when I first left Chicago, the young, redheaded woman told her friend. She turned around and gripped the phone tighter.

I’m so happy for you, babe, said her friend Tammy.

The stunning girl rubbed her head. You know, after everything, he still wants me. He wants to see if we can make it work. Oh God. She started sniffling. I’m so tired. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. What do you think?

Tammy sighed. Of course he wants you, Mimi. No matter what you’ve done or how stupid you’ve been, he’s always understood. Even those times you hurt him and behaved like a complete bitch, he never judged you. It’s as if he knew someday you two would be together.

The woman was almost hyperventilating now and had to slow her breathing down before she could answer Tammy. What a crazy summer…I finally left that creep. A married man and I was playing house with him. His mistress, Mimi thought. What an ugly word. I can’t wait to go over there this morning and get the last of my things. Jeez, how fucked up was I?

Tammy answered calmly, Well you’ve left him and his abuse and his drugs behind. You don’t need him or the rest of those scumbags you’ve gotten tangled up with. You’re taking control of your life now, just like some of those bad bitches in those movies of yours

." Tammy giggled a bit to try and lighten the young women’s mood.

Geez, Geoff’s been good to me, though, The tearful woman responded, protesting what her friend had just said. Geoff George was the owner of Bachelor Magazine, the premier men’s magazine of the world. Mimi had first posed nude when she was barely nineteen years old. Geoff George had convinced her to do the pictorial and then bedded her, as he had done to so many other young girls. I probably never would have made it into the movies and TV without him…and Bobby, too.

She thought about Bobby for a moment. Bobby Rose, née Rosenkranz, was her first serious relationship in LA. He was a songwriter and quite a good one. He and his partner had penned almost all the hits for a faux rock band that was on a popular TV show. He and Mimi were close to marrying, but he couldn’t put up with her numerous infidelities and drug use.

Oh, Mims, sure, they helped, but you paid the price. If you hadn’t met them, you probably would never have had a cocaine problem either. Not to mention being in Bachelor most likely cost you more good roles than all the bad ones it got you. Where were all of them when you hit rock bottom? Karl was the only man who didn’t treat you like a whore. And he never gave up on you. You drove him away.

Mimi let her friend’s words sink in. Tammy was right. And God, she was exhausted. She sat down and put her feet up, leaning her head back and just sitting for a moment. It was all hitting her at once—her and Nash’s final breakup, getting the drugs out of her life. She was so tired of every man wanting to fuck her, of everyone promising her a great role in the next big hit—if she would give them a blow job or more. This was Hollywood, and this was what she had wanted. She had been a Bachelorette of the Year. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do.

But she was so young, so naïve then. Things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned, not her pictures in Bachelor, not her movies, not the drugs and parties, and certainly not the older men with money and influence. But there was no time for bitterness now. She had two choices—to wallow in more degradation or to pull it together. And she had Karl back in her life.

Shit, she was feeling more tired every second. Would he be willing to help her one more time? He wanted to ask her to marry him…again? She couldn’t believe it. Would she end up driving him away again? She had been so cruel to him and he was just a boy. He was so sweet…so sweet.

All those rock stars and actors thought they were great lovers…but Karl was different. Karl never made her feel like he wanted her because she was a Bachelorette or in the movies. He wanted her because he thought she was smart, generous, sincere, funny, and decent. He also loved her fine body and flawless features, but he had always told her that it was her eyes that had captured him and her soul that kept him with her.

Simultaneously, a million thoughts came rushing through her head. She saw Karl across from her on a great, green field. She could see his face. He looked so happy to see her. Then the ground turned to liquid beneath her feet. Karl was screaming and trying to run to her. In the next instant the earthquake tore the grass wide open, rapidly widening into a deep pit of black earth and molten rock. She fell and tried to scream, clawing for a grip and grabbing…nothing.

Mims, Mims…are you there?

It was her friend’s voice. Mimi was back in her apartment. She had nodded off for an instant. Yeah, I’m here. I’m sorry…must have passed out for a second. I was thinking about Karl. You know, I talked to him just before I called you. He was so excited to hear from me. Oh, I know good things are going to happen from now on, babe.

Well you better get some rest, Mims; you sound really, really tired. Get your shit from that asshole’s place later.

The lovely young woman stretched and looked outside, where it was getting light. I’ll be OK. The sooner I get my stuff, the better I’ll start feeling. As Karl said, ‘Close the chapter, and open a new one.’ I have a ton of things to do. Besides, he’s flying out here tomorrow. Can you believe it?

Oh, Mims, now I think I’m going to start crying, you bitch. They both giggled. I’m so happy for you, babe. We’ll go out and celebrate when Karl gets in, ‘k? And listen, be careful—I fuckin’ mean it.

I promise I will, babe. Love you. See you soon.

You bet, Mims, buh-bye.

What a sweetheart, Mimi thought as she hung up the phone. She yawned and stretched again. She cleaned up her coffee table and put some glasses in the sink. Then she picked up about a hundred tissues she had used during the night. She got dressed, put her hair in a ponytail, and washed her face. She definitely looked like shit. Baggy sweat shirt, jeans, no makeup—some sex symbol. But she thought it best to look unappealing, in case her ex got any romantic ideas. She grabbed the largest pair of sunglasses she had—the better to cover up the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She yawned again. Damn, she was wasted. But better to get this over with. She wanted the rest of her stuff and to be rid of that maggot forever. And Karl would be here tomorrow. She would want plenty of time to rest and clean the apartment.

Now all she could think about was Karl touching her and kissing her…for hours, like he used to. She looked at the calendar. It was November 10, 1979. The first day of the rest of my life, she thought happily to herself.

She left her apartment and shivered a bit in the morning autumn air of Santa Monica. She opened the door of her pink Corvette and put the convertible top down. She loved this car. She took one last deep breath and thought, I can do this. This is the beginning of a new life for me. And with that Cynthia Jamison, born Margaret Elizabeth Mimi Winston, 1970 Bachelorette of the Year, pulled out onto the Pacific Coast Highway and began to drive toward her former boyfriend’s Malibu beach house. She rounded a curve and caught herself dozing off. Cars honked their horns. Shit, that was close, she thought. She kept driving. The sun was in her eyes. Her lids started to close…

Chapter 1

December 9, 2013

Karl Cerelli stared at the computer monitor. He felt as if his chest would split wide open. He did not understand what was happening to him. All he understood was the grief, the sense of loss, and the tragedy of what he had just read. This poor woman had deserved a second chance. She had deserved to live and be happy. He had read the same articles dozens of times. Each time they had the same effect and all of it over a person he had never met.

It had started several weeks ago. He had been surfing Netflix and YouTube, looking for a movie to watch. For several years he had preferred horror, splatter, and exploitation movies. It was a hobby as well as a form of relaxation. When he was absorbed in a film, he never thought about the unpleasant truths and realities outside of his suburban home. Through the electronic miracle of the Internet, hundreds of films he had only read about were now available to him. There were other genres he enjoyed; the Coen brothers’ and Guy Ritchie’s films were some of his favorites. He had watched Miller’s Crossing at least fifty times . It was the same with Snatch.

These days, in the grip of rapidly increasing depression, it was films of violence, gore, and female nudity that provided a welcome distraction. Watching cinematic treasures, such as the Blood Island trilogy, was like mental Novocain. They stopped the pain, at least for the few hours he watched.

Then one day, while grinding out the cycle of his wretched life—the stifling routine of getting up, going to work, coming home to a dark, empty house, watching a movie, drugging himself to sleep, working, watching a movie—he came across a film he had never seen but had read about. It was The GREAT TNT T&A BANK ROBBERY SPREE. What caught his eye was the featured actress, Cynthia Jamison. He remembered her now. It had been a long time since he’d thought of her. He had been fourteen years old when he’d found a copy of his father’s Bachelor. It was her Bachelorette of the Year pictorial.

You could imagine the effect it had on a young boy. Karl had never seen a person like that in his life. He was still a virgin at this juncture but had some experience with heavy petting, as it was called in ancient times. She was beautiful, yes, but her eyes and face were more arousing than her perfect body. Her eyes showed an eerie mix of intelligence, devilishness, innocence, and warmth. He gazed into those eyes hundreds of times, trying to see into her mind. Her red hair was the most exotic and erotic thing he had ever seen. He’d thought to himself, if I could only meet her, just once, I would die happy.

Karl thought his predilection for redheads started with Cynthia. Up to that point, he had never been with one. Then he dated one for a while when he got to high school. He’d dated several in college, including one named Cynthia. Then he dated more when he moved to Atlanta. He eventually ended up marrying one. Was this the subliminal influence of seeing Cynthia Jamison in her sexual, vulnerable, and sweet glory? Karl was beginning to think there was some validity to this.

When he had finished watching The Great TNT T&A Bank Robbery Spree, which he’d thoroughly enjoyed, Karl decided to do some research on Miss Cynthia Jamison. He seemed to vaguely recall she had died fairly young. While he was typing in search after search, he kept thinking back to the movie and how strong and intelligent Cynthia had been. He thought about how she and her partner in crime had gotten away with their bank robberies and murder spree and ended up marrying millionaires. He thought about how her legs looked in her cutoff jeans. She had the whole package in that film. She was more than a match for any of the male characters.

He felt strange and a bit changed after watching it. There was very little online about Cynthia. There was an interview with the owner of Bachelor, Geoff George, on a boxing site of all places. Then an article came up that Karl regretted finding. It was a piece from the Chicago Sun Times. It was written to coincide with the premier of E! True Hollywood Story Life and Death in the Fast Lane—The Tragedy of Cynthia Jamison.

The author of the article knew Cynthia, since they had attended New Trier High School together. Karl learned her given name was Margaret Elizabeth Winston, but everyone called her Mimi. Cynthia’s family had moved to New Trier from Indiana. The revelations contained in that brief bit of prose hit Karl like a train. They were more than heartbreaking. They were heart crushing.

Cynthia had led a life of excitement, adventure, and glamour but also one of disappointment, poor choices, and lost dreams. The article painted two contrasting pictures of Cynthia—one of a stop-at-nothing-for-success, ambitious slattern, ready to do anything to get to the top, and the other of the sweet girl from New Trier High, who was friendly to all and was in love with acting. The author also included a fair amount of salacious goodies as far as the many men Cynthia had slept with and her consumption of copious amounts of cocaine.

The article painted an unflattering portrait of Geoff George, the founder and owner of Bachelor Magazine, upon whom Cynthia’s mother firmly placed the responsibility for her daughter’s downward spiral. Bachelor was the top men’s magazine in the world, and Geoff George had made his reputation by having some of the most beautiful women in America grace its pages—and by sleeping with them.

To give the author some credit, the article gave equal evidence that Cynthia knew exactly what she was doing when she’d first come to work at Bachelor as a part-time receptionist. All parties agreed that she and Geoff George had slept together. There was also an allegation that Geoff George had said that Cynthia had told him he was the first man to make love to her, which the author refuted. For his part, Mr. George admitted he did not know whether he’d taken her virginity or not. But there was no denying that he took some of her innocence.

After absorbing what he’d read and several other articles, Karl read about her last day alive. She had been up all night, worrying about her career, her ex-boyfriend (who, by all accounts, was not good for her in any way, shape, or fashion), her drug problems, and, in general, what direction to steer her life. She’d told a girlfriend that morning she hadn’t gotten any sleep, thinking about all these troubles. She’d hinted that maybe it was time to cut her ties with Bachelor and move beyond the Pad, which was what all of America called Geoff George’s mansion in Los Angeles. She had decided to turn her life around and make a new beginning.

She’d gotten into her pink Corvette convertible and started to drive to her ex’s beach house to pick up some of her things. She’d fallen asleep at the wheel, crossed the dividing line on the two-lane Pacific Coast Highway, and collided with another vehicle. There were several conflicting accounts, but the majority stated she was still alive when the paramedics tried to get her out of the wreckage. She’d died in the arms of strangers, far from her family, far from New Trier, far from her dreams, far from Geoff George, and far from Karl, who was twenty-four years old and living in Atlanta.

Fuck! Karl’s brain screamed. He felt his eyes itch and start to water. He felt like he was suffocating. A wave of sadness and regret washed over him, but it burned like molten lava. He cried in great, heaving sobs and could not stop. It literally took hours to regain his composure.

He felt so sad. He also felt like a complete idiot, an old fool, and a bit of a pervert to boot. Mainly, however, he felt sad. She was such a beautiful young woman, with so much promise. Why had her story affected him so radically? Hers was a tragic story, yes, but every day, a thousand times a second, tragedies unfolded on this grim planet. He tried to rationalize it and talk himself down to a normal state of depression. He felt that he had known the real Cynthia Jamison and that deep down inside her, all she’d needed was someone to love her, a man to see beyond the nudity and sex, to see what he saw in her eyes. She’d been an intelligent, powerful, passionate, and sweet young woman.

This reaction to Mimi’s story was debilitating and devastating. He could hardly think of anything else for days. The visceral, suffocating pain was driving him to madness. Why had all this happened to her? He was no stranger to intense, personal devastation, but he simply could not get a grip around Cynthia Jamison’s life and death.

He knew his reaction made no sense. Was it just a release from the pressures of life that he’d been feeling? In some ways, her story was similar to his. Karl had started as a brilliant attorney. He had made a small fortune in real-estate deals, and he knew how to work the system. He’d made or bought many important friends through the years. He had a beautiful wife, who was his boss’s daughter, and two nice kids, a boy and a girl—a perfect family. Then, after his boss died, it all came apart. Karl was accused of committing a breach of ethics. He swore he had been framed by people in the office and the other partners, who resented him. He was eventually disbarred, and he lost almost all the money he had worked so hard to make. Karl managed to survive and started a new business, but it was one that was dull, full of personnel problems, and was a daily struggle to make survive.

However, he knew he had been in denial of a great many things for years. He had been bothered by depression and other disorders for some time. Through therapy and drugs he had been able to function well enough that the outside world thought he was a reasonably successful, though somewhat eccentric, individual. His counselor and doctor had told him they really could do nothing else for him.

Karl’s last therapy session had not gone well. Too many painful memories were still fresh—like bloody road kill. He had been feeling progressively desperate. He then told his therapist about Mimi. He told her he was obsessed with a woman. She’d seemed taken aback. Are you stalking her? she’d asked.

No, Karl had said. That would be difficult. Then his therapist had asked if he had spoken to the woman about his feelings. He’d told her that would be equally difficult. When she asked why, he honestly told her it was because the woman had been dead for thirty-four years. His therapist had dropped her pen and just stared at him.

He was at the limits of his medications. To increase any of the dosages would be dangerous. All conceded he had suffered major stress and loss in his life. Karl had been through the types of trauma that most people never recovered from. His doctor and therapist had suggested in-patient or out-patient programs, both of which were impossible for Karl to do without quitting his job. That was not an option.

It had not been easy for Karl…or his wife of twenty-six years, Carol. Their only son had committed suicide at sixteen with one of Karl’s guns. Their only daughter had died of ovarian cancer only weeks before she was to graduate from college. Tensions had been rising between Karl and Carol for years, even before these two tragedies. She had exploded at him one day, finally letting out all the pent-up bile, bitterness, and anger she had been bottling up for twenty years. Karl had been so self-centered he had no idea this was how she felt.

When Jimmy found Karl’s Glock 9 mm and put it to his head, as soon as the bullet entered poor Jimmy’s skull, their marriage was effectively over. Karl had promised never to keep a gun in the house and had lied to her outright. Fortunately, Karl knew quite a few of the policemen in their town, so Jimmy’s death was ruled an accident. Karl later thought back and wondered if it would have been better for him to go to jail.

Karl began to let himself go physically after Jimmy’s death. The circumstances of his being disbarred and his son’s death obliterated any favorable opinion of mankind he might have had and magnified the paranoia, mistrust, and anger he had been building up inside.

Carol, on the other hand, was a wonderful person and mother. At one time she had loved Karl dearly. However, she could not tolerate him lying to her. When their daughter, Crystal, became ill, the tension in the marriage became another presence in their home. Carol would come home and immediately go to the bedroom and read a book. Karl would come home, say hello, and immediately go to his computer room and listen to music, watch a movie, or go on his Facebook or Twitter accounts.

It wasn’t long before this became an unbreakable habit for both of them. They had stopped making love at all after Jimmy’s death, and their physical contact was limited to an occasional hug or kiss on the cheek. Some nights Karl would just sit in his room and contemplate how awful his life was. He had a loveless marriage, a child whose death was his fault, a terminally ill daughter, and a job he pretty much despised, in addition to no sex, few friends, and the seeds of resentment sown by a company he had given a third of his life to that had fired him unceremoniously. These feelings and resentments now started to fester. From this internal cauldron of guilt, anger, anguish, and desperation, a second being grew inside Karl, one that was not friendly to him or to those around him.

Some fucking mess, Karl would think.

Then, shortly before her graduation, Crystal took a turn for the worse, despite chemo, drugs, and experimental treatments that ran into tens of thousands of dollars. She was on her way to class when she started bleeding profusely and was rushed to the hospital. She had red hair, like her mother, and was lying in her hospital bed when he came to see her. She was very brave and cheerful at the end, just as she had been in life. Karl had tried to keep a smile on his face. He had neglected her for most of her life, even though she had adored him. He’d sat there, trying to smile, while Carol could barely hold herself together.

Crystal’s grandmother and aunt were there too. Each had lost a husband in the past two years, which seemed to exacerbate Karl and Carol’s other tragedies. The school had given Crystal her diploma early, as a kind gesture, even though her finals were not over with. Her sorority sisters had held a special ceremony at the hospital for her. The room was still completely covered in pink ribbons, pink balloons, pink flowers, and everything pink you could imagine, since that was the sorority’s color.

When Crystal’s body began to give up the fight, the nurses asked everyone to leave. Karl had refused. I watched my mother die from outside her ICU room. I am not leaving. He had a look of menace and unrestrained hostility in his eyes that made all the nurses back off, except one.

I’m just going to increase her morphine drip. OK, Mr. Cerelli?

Karl calmed down a bit and said, Of course, I’m sorry.

She gave him a look of sympathy, adjusted the drip quickly, and left.

Karl leaned over his daughter and grabbed her hand. I love you, baby. Look into my eyes. Do you see me reading to you when you were a little girl? Do you see us at the beach for the first time?

Crystal’s breathing had become labored, but she’d held his gaze and smiled. Karl’s mind had raced for good memories. Then he’d remembered something important. He had been so grief stricken and distracted he had almost forgotten what he had in his pocket. It was a picture he had drawn for her in his hotel room. When she was a little girl, Crystal had been afraid of vampires and was terrified of going to sleep. Karl had come up with the idea of drawing a guardian angel and placing it under her pillow to watch over her. He pulled the paper out and unfolded it. It was a nicely drawn picture of a lovely guardian angel, complete with cherubim and clouds and celestial gates. He held it close, so she could see. See I brought your guardian angel back. She will watch over you forever, Karl said gently.

Crystal had given a slight smile, and her eyes had tried to focus on the paper.

I’m going to put it under your pillow, so you’ll be safe, Karl had said through his tears. He went to grab Crystal’s hand again, but there was no strength in it. He looked at her face. Her eyes had been open, and she still had a slight smile on her face.

After that, Karl and Carol decided to divorce. The children had been the last things holding them together, and those bonds were now gone forever. Losing two children within two years was a living nightmare Carol and Karl could not wake from. The split was amicable. They were both too exhausted and too sad to fight. Karl had even proposed they keep sharing the house, but Carol would have none of that. She wanted Karl out of her life. She moved into her mother’s house, joining her sister in the large Dunwoody home and helping to take care of their ailing mother. The loss of a husband, a son-in-law, and two grandchildren in such a short amount of time had led to a host of health problems. So there they lived, three women, two widowed and one whose husband might as well be dead.

Karl walked downstairs to get a glass of wine. He tried to concentrate and calm himself. He looked around the house, which looked like no one lived in it, except for a few pieces of furniture, some books, a TV, and an overhead pot rack. It appeared as if the house had been robbed by some otherworldly thief who had stolen lives and joy and left nothing of true value. He poured his wine and walked back upstairs, breathing heavily. What am I going to do, he thought. What am I going to do?

He typed a few words into the search engine. Soon he went to a website called Madame Aucoin—Fortune-Teller, Tarot, Charms, and Hypnotism. He jotted down the phone number. He closed the window and went to his favorites list. He looked at the computer screen, where a picture of Cynthia Jamison appeared, staring into his eyes. She seemed alive and so real on the screen. Karl thought, what am I going to do? After downing some wine and an antianxiety pill, Karl began to think rationally. Well, he thought, the first thing I’m going to do is start calling her Mimi.

Chapter 2

The Hypnotist

Karl drove a long way. He hated driving in downtown Atlanta. The other drivers were one problem. Courtesy? They didn’t think so. Turn signals? Sorry, those were for Yankees. Speed limits? The other drivers had never heard of them. Another problem was his eyes had deteriorated rapidly the last few years. He was virtually blind at night. If it was raining, Karl could not see more than a few feet ahead of him.

He walked into the storefront that read Madame Aucoin: Charms, Palm Reading, Tarot.

The place looked like a tea shop. It was much neater and cleaner than Karl expected. The chalices and representations of good, evil, death, and the occult were neatly arranged. There were black candles, Santa Muerte statues in every color imaginable, tarot decks, incense, chakra necklaces, smudge wands, ritual tools, crystals, and many other items everywhere he gazed. There was a card table covered in green cloth, with three chairs, set up under a hanging ceiling lamp. He expected to see a crystal ball set upon it.

There used to be one. It broke, a voice spoke quietly. A very tall woman stepped forward. I’m kidding, of course. You must be Mr. Cerelli.

Karl stammered a bit, I am…so sorry I’m late. I…don’t see well any longer, and I’m not familiar with this end of town. And I’ve been living here since ‘78; pretty pathetic I kn—

It doesn’t matter, she cut him off. You’re here now. Sit. Let’s talk. Would you like some tea?

She flipped on the lighting in the shop to full power, and Karl could see her better. She was very attractive and very tall, at least five foot eight. It was impossible for him to get a fix on her age. From one angle she could have been in her late thirties, and then from another she looked closer to fifty. Her clothes