night, without her motherâs intercession, friends would later say that at the Rice Lofts, in a site some believed haunted, Ana, intoxicated after a night drinking in the bars, returned to her studio and again took out a Ouija board, calling on spirits, attempting to open a portal connecting the physical world and an invisible one. âA lot of Spanish-descended people believe in white and black magic,â said Montoya. âI didnât think anything of what Ana was doing at first. But then bizarre things kept happening. It was as if she had no boundaries.â
Much of what happened wouldnât seem out of step with the new Ana, the once suburban housewife who danced for men in bars. Montoya marveled at the changes in her friend, like the day she showed up at Anaâs studio in the Rice and found her in a sexy outfit with a low-cut top, showing off her cleavage, standing on a stool, posing in front of a window.
âWhat are you doing?â Montoya asked.
âJust fooling around,â Ana said, explaining that a friend had called and asked her to stand in the window, so he could take pictures of her from the building across the street.
Later that afternoon, Montoya walked into a club and found a group of men, one with photos displayed on a laptop, erotic photos of Ana. âDoes she know you took these?â Montoya asked, only to learn that they were the photos Ana had modeled for at the window. When Montoya told Ana that the men had been ogling her photos, Ana looked not angry but pleased.
âWell, really, did you like them?â she asked Montoya. âAre they good?â
Montoya laughed, thinking it was all crazy, that sheâd been upset about the photos, when Ana obviously felt flattered.
But the voodoo doll truly caught Montoyaâs attention.
âLook what I have,â Ana said one day. Out of a small casket-like wooden box that also contained a chicken bone, Ana pulled a primitive doll fashioned from sticks and rags. She told Montoya that sheâd bought it in New Orleans, and that sheâd used it to put a spell on a man she worked with at Coca-Cola, one she claimed harassed her. True or not, what Ana said was that the man had died.
âGet it out of my shop,â Montoya told her, not wanting anything to do with the totem.
Laughing, Ana said, âItâs only a toy.â
A voodoo doll similar to the one Ana Trujillo Fox carried
F or the most part, on the surface, nothing seemed different about Ana Trujillo Fox. The Rice sponsored happy hours in a community room for residents, and Ana went often, sexily dressed, standing in her stilettos, holding a glass of wine, chatting to the mainly young professionals gathered. Some thought that perhaps the woman with the massage studio talked a little too loud, or insinuated herself unwelcomed into conversations, or touched them when they preferred that she keep a distance, but for the most part, she was a colorful addition to the parties.
As she became ever more enmeshed in the downtown night scene,Ana continually reinvented herself, at one point hanging out with a group of rappers who drove in limousines and took her to extravagant parties. At other times, Montoya walked in and found her at the pool at the Four Seasons Hotel with a group of lawyers, getting some sun. âShe moved with a wealthy crowd,â said the hairdresser. âShe fit in with anyone, changing depending on who she was with.â
To her friendsâ surprise, Ana brought a young homeless woman into her studio, allowing her to stay. She had a sad story of being involved in drugs and losing custody of her child. When Anaâs friends warned her of the dangers of taking in people off the street, Ana scoffed. In response, she claimed exceptional abilities that protected her and expressed no fears.
âI have powers,â Ana told Montoya one day. âI can do things with my mind.â
âYou donât,â her friend
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