Six Feet Under the Stars

"It'll be two-fifty for those bracelets." The balding street vendor told me while mopping his nose with a tissue. "Allergies." He apologized.

"For each of them?" I raised an eyebrow.

Woven braclets strung together with all colors and designs were displayed before me tangled inside a wicker basket. Currently, I was trying to decide between a swirled one with green, blue, and purple woven together or a hemp bracelet with shells and light blue beads. A chart to the right of the table indicated that the light blue beads meant luck. Instructions written in curling font read: 'Make a wish on your bracelet and watch the magic come true before your eyes!'. I was pretty sure that was bullshit, but it seemed fun nonetheless.

Alex stood a few feet away distracted by the lure of psychadelic scarves and big-rimmed sunglasses. He wrapped fabric around himself like a cape from a superhero then hung it over his head like a 1950's housewife. Grinning in the speckled mirror before him, Alex tried on circular glasses with a dark blue tint reminiscent of John Lennon's pair back in the 1970's.

"I'll take these two." I spoke, turning my attention back to the clerk. Wrestling a crummy five dollar bill out of my front jeans pocket, I handed the money across the counter to the man who pocketed it without looking at it in a smock he wore around his belly.

"They're yours now." He announced unenthusiastically. "Thanks for stopping by. And let your friend over there know that if he breaks a pair of those he's gonna have to buy them." The vendor shrugged apologetically and his bald scalped shone in the afternoon sunlight. "Store policy."

Walking over to Alex, I gently laid a hand on his arm and said, "The owner's getting a little antsy about you trying on everything he has."

He snorted, "Does he think I'm going to steal something?"

"Break it more like."

"Maybe I should buy one of these." He faced me with a pair of sunglasses that looked ridiculously large on him. "What do you think? It's a good disguise so the fans won't recognize me. They won't even be able to tell it's me."

"You still look like Alex just with bug-eyes." I told him honestly.

"They're trendy." He protested with a small pout.

"Buy them if you want. They're only," I paused searching for a price tag and then my eyes widened, "fifteen dollars."

"Street vendors are supposed to be cheap. Buying anything here would be a rip-off." Somewhat wistfully, he placed the sunglasses back on their designated shelf.

I laughed, "Well, I just bought something."

"Oops. Sorry." He smiled sheepishly at me.

"Here, give me your wrist."

"That's sort of a big request. I'm not sure I just want to give a body part away to you." But nonetheless he held his wrist out to me and while I dug through my purse, I heard Alex mumbled something about me possibly being a vampire. Pulling out the multi-colored bracelet I had just purchased, I tied it around his wrist and he flinched. "Ouch, not too tight."

"Calm down." I laughed and loosened the length while tying it snug. "There you go. All done."

Alex examined the colorful bracelet. "Nice, I love it. Thanks, Melanie."

"No problem." I waved away his thanks with a flick of my wrist. "I got this one." I dangled the shell and bead wish bracelet from one end. "You're supposed to make a wish on it and when it falls off, it'll come true."

As I struggled to fasten it, Alex offered, "I'll do it." After a failed attempt to get the hemp tied, he told me, "This is way too long. I think it's supposed to be an ankle bracelet." Bending down on the sidewalk in front of me, Alex yanked the bottom of my skinny jeans up and tied it around my ankle. He lifted my foot off the ground and I scrambled to maintain my balance as he held it out before me so I could admire his work.

I laughed, "Thanks; you're very helpful."

Alex chuckled as he straightened himself back up, "Helpful? I was thinking more along the lines of sexy or amazingly good looking."

"Why would I thank you for being good looking?" I questioned giving him a look.

He shrugged, "It's hard work."

Rolling my eyes at his jokes, I pushed him gently and said, "Where to next? I thought you were supposed to be the city expert of Portland. So far we've only walked about a block and found this, when you had been talking about a record store you found here last time. I'm beginning to doubt your skills."

"Hey now, this is only the beginning. It's kind of nice just wandering around though I wish I knew where the hell we were."

I laughed, "Spur of the moment dates are great."

Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, we started walking as Alex laughed softly, "They've always been my favorite. They usually tend to be the most memorable too. This is our last day in Portland anyway. We might as well make it count before we're hitting the open road again."

"Damn, are we leaving already?" I asked, not wishing to face the tour buses again. No part of me wanted to ride on the roadie bus with Dorian. I was trying to avoid him for as long as possible before I inevitably had to face him again. Maybe I'd just take a spot with all the equipment, I jokingly thought.

"It shouldn't be too bad. We have a few days until the next concert so we really don't have to rush to the next city. Usually we stop somehwere in the middle on one of those campsites and have a campfire sit-down. It's really nice eating beans from a can and swapping lame stories. It should be fun."

"Singing Kumbaya and all that?"

"That's a given." He told me as we crossed the street much more safely than when we had when running from fans earlier. "Last time we did this, our manager got drunk and started rambling about how much he loved us and how much the band meant to him. He almost started crying."

"That's hilarious."

"It really was." He agreed with a grin. "I'm counting on Jack falling asleep first this time so I can stick his hand in a bowl of warm water or paint his face or something."

"Very evil. I'll help you if you need it though."

"Thanks, I probably will need it. You can lull him into a false sense of security. You know, sing him some nursery rhymes or read a story to him to get him to fall asleep. Then I'll have the water and Sharpies ready for the attack."

"Good plan." I complimented, holding back a laugh. "We'll have to work out the details but it's a good start."

Alex's gaze was distracted by a shop up the road, "Madame Esmerelda's Palm Reading and Fortune Telling. Wanna check it out?"

"Definitely. I've always wanted to see a fortune teller. We'll have to see how expensive it is though because those places are usually so much money."

"I've got it covered." Squeezing my shoulder, he said, "It is a date, you know."

A waterfall of beads greeted us into the stuffy shop as we entered and the smell of incense curled towards us like beckoning fingers. Mechanized music recordings played mysterious instrumental songs more fit for a carnival or a soundtrack to a psychological thriller. Bottles of various healing herbs and scented candles lined the walls as well as a row of Palmistry books for sale.

The gypsy woman hobbled out of a backroom and took her station behind the front counter that was cluttered in handmade jewelry. "Welcome to Madame Esmerelda's. Your future awaits you just beyond the brink of this door." With a wrinkled hand, she motioned to the adjoining room as her sharp brown eyes studied us.

"Hey." I greeted somewhat shyly. "Do you have a price list?"

"Your future holds no set limit, my dear." She spoke trying to sound mystical but the gruffness from a recently smoked cigarette made the words strange coming from her throat. "But if you're concerned about the constraints of finances than you should know that palm reading is eight dollars and fortune telling is fifteen. A nice price tag for your future."

Alex choked, whether on a laugh or from the strong smoke, I wasn't sure. He spoke to her from in the smoky haze, "Two fortune tellings, please."

For a moment, she broke out of her gypsy character, "It's tough in these economic times, so we pay in advance here. So if you would be so kind," She patted the wood desk in front of her suggestively, "With tax it comes out to thirty-one and fifty-six pennies."

Alex and I strolled to the front counter together and he handed her exact change, a habit which I had started getting him into. She stashed the loose change in a jar marked for charity to the local Goodwill then used a register to start keying in the prices with long fake fingernails that shone red like blood in the dim lighting of her shop. Before dropping the money inside, she scrutnized the bills mistrustfully. With a sharp bang, she slammed the cash register and swatted a hand. "Follow me."

The connected room was the size of a shack. There was only enough room for three chairs, a crystal ball, and a stack of colorful Tarot cards resting peacefully on a table. Alex and I plopped into oversized chairs that seemed to dwarf the room in comparison. Madame Esmerelda took a seat across the table from us and meticulously cracked each one of her fingers before folding them politely in front of her.

"Now," She split a crooked smile between us, "Who's first?"