Control by William Goldman Page B

five each. ”
    “ Can you tell luck either way? ”
     
    “ I could bullshit you with one. But a thing like luck I can only be positive with two. ”
    “ Both then. ” Her kids were out of the doorway now, looking up at him.
    “ Don ’ t they bother you? ”
    “ They help me—sometimes they can be very sensitive. ”
    “ So can I, ” Billy Boy said. “ Sometimes. ”
    “ Take out the ten, hold it tight, make a wish. ”
    Billy Boy did what she said and almost wished that he could fuck all Charlie ’ s Angels one after the other. But then he quick decided that was dumb. The one with the hair was long gone and if he wanted three at once he could buy three at once. If this was a lucky day. I better wish this is my lucky day, he decided, and did.
    She took the ten, put it under an ashtray on the table beside her. Then she took his palms, stared at them, began quickly to talk. “ … through your palms I see this is a time of great decision for you … through your palms I see that next month will be lucky days for you… through— ”
    “ Today, lady. I don ’ t give a shit about next month, okay? ”
    “ I ’ m closing in on the truth, you think that ’ s so easy? ”
    “ No. I ’ m just anxious. Go on. ”
    “ … through your palms I see that though you don ’ t cry on the outside, inside your heart has many tears… through your palms I see you are a good man, and many people love you, but you got trouble showing you love them back… your wife or your girl friend, she loves you because you are a good man … ”
    “ And you are a phony fortune-teller, ” Billy Boy said, “ Gimme my ten. ”
    Suddenly she shouted very loud in Spanish.
    Billy Boy just sat there.
    There were footsteps and male voices.
    Billy Boy blinked and waited.
    Two Spies with knives came through the doorway. She shouted at them in Spanish. They both looked at Billy Boy. One of them was just in white underwear shorts. He was little with a big knife. The other one had a bigger knife and he had pants on. The kids moved to the wall and stared up at everything. The one with just underwear said, “ Out, asshole, ” and he gestured toward the door with his thumb.
     
    “ She ’ s a phony fortune-teller, ’’ Billy Boy explained. “ I ’ m better than her and I want my ten dollars back. ”
    The one with pants moved a step forward, his knife held in front of him, his body balanced. “ What you want and what you get ain ’ t necessarily the same, bimbo. ” On the word “ get ” he pushed his knife higher into the air, making his meaning very clear.
    Billy Boy sat there blinking. This was New York and you had to be careful. But they were making a fool of him. She was a phony fortune-teller and that was a bad thing, because some of the greatest people he had ever met were fortune-tellers—no, more—some of the greatest people who ever lived were fortune-tellers. It was a job you didn ’ t bullshit around with so even though it was New York and even though he knew he had to be careful, he quickly stood and turned his right hand into a fist and turned his right arm into a club and raised it high and took two steps toward the one with pants who started all of a sudden screaming “ Give him the fucking money, Jesus Christ, you trying to get me killed? ” and then he turned and ran back down the corridor and the one with just underwear grabbed the bill from under the ashtray and threw it to Billy Boy and then he turned and began beating up on the fortune-teller while he screamed at her in Spanish and the kids by the wall still watched in silence and they were the last things Billy Boy looked at as he left, shaking his head, wondering what kids like that were gonna turn out to be, living a life like that?
    “ Is this my lucky day or not and how much is it gonna cost me? ” Billy Boy said to the next fortune-teller, a black one. She had her storefront between Eighth and Ninth, on forty-something street, right near the first,