“You’re offended by that?” Shelby screamed at Angela. The two best friends were having coffee at the local Starbucks. It wasn’t unusual for the friends to talk about subjects varying from abortion to religion. Even political ideologies were a part of their dialogues. For some reason, all rational thought left Shelby. There was no reason for it, and it startled most of the patrons in Starbucks because two middle-aged white women fighting about an ideology that neither agreed with. That’s what struck the four baristas behind the counter, the manager keeping a close eye on them, thinking it could escalate, which wasn’t the norm. Not for a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon.

Angela scowled at her friend of twenty-something years. They argued about legislation affecting the lower class of Portland, specifically in the southeast and northeast sides of the city. The homeless population was growing at an alarming rate, making it difficult for businesses and homeowners in the area to get in and out of their driveways, much less make it to work on time. Even Tri-Met schedules were off by a few minutes on routes in both parts of the city. But the areas where the money was? Lake Oswego? Beaverton? Aloha? None of these cities outside of Portland had issues like the downtown areas. And that was Angela’s problem. “You can’t say homeless anymore,” she hissed at her friend. “They are unhoused.”

Shelby crossed her arms. “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. Homeless. That’s what they are. They are not unhoused,” she said, using air quotes to emphasize the word.

“You are being ridiculous,” Angela replied, siping her vanilla soy latte. Both women were impeccably dressed, the wealth of the upper populace of Portland shining through their clothing, hairstyles, sunglasses, and jewelry. Nothing said that these women were lacking anything. And they weren’t. You didn’t see visible tattoos on either woman, but they both had them. A small butterfly and a semi-colon just below their waistline, out of sight, except when they swam or were tanning. They were small enough that no one would ask questions, especially not in their social circles. Their husbands worked at Oregon Health & Science University Hospital, teaching young doctors. The wives didn’t understand or care what they did or how they did it as long as they had their American Express Gold and Platinum cards, a few thousand dollars cash on hand, and at least three nice cars to drive. Not that they had to drive anywhere, what with their exclusive membership to luxury Uber, providing them a towncar or better at a moment’s notice. Not that they didn’t drive, but why would you when you didn’t need to?

“I tell you what,” Shelby spat, her voice rising in pitch and tone. “Let’s go down to Burnside and ask them what they prefer to be called, shall we?” She stood abruptly, shaking the table and causing the volume of everything inside Starbucks to quiet down. All eyes were on Shelby and Angela, every patron wondering what the next move would be. Would Angela stand up and walk out? Would she put her hands on her friend, which wasn’t unheard of in a coffee shop in 2024. Or would they agree to disagree and walk out together, heading up to Saks to shop or go to the country club in Oswego?

Angela noticed all the attention they were both getting. She didn’t like to be watched and especially didn’t enjoy her friend bringing her unwanted attention. Her facial expression changed, looking at Shelby and motioned for her to sit down. She was pleading with Shelby through her expression, please sit down.

“Fine. Be that way.” Shelby snatched her drink off the table. Angela almost didn’t catch her drink, and much to the surprise of everyone watching their argument, including Shelby, she did! One-handed, Angela not only managed to catch the latte but also caught it in the palm of her left hand! Now Angela’s face turned a deep shade of red, her hand vibrating the cup from her embarrassment and anxiety. She stood up, sneered at her friend, and headed toward the door. The entirety of Starbucks erupted in cheers, some touching her shoulder, patting her arm, and saying things like, ‘Nice catch,’ and ‘Way to grab that out of thin air,’ and one guy standing in line said, ‘Wow. Maybe the Seattle Mariners need a new first baseman.’ None of the comments phased her as she stormed out past her friend.

“Wait,” Shelby yelled. “You can’t leave without me!” The table, now unoccupied, filled up with three teen girls who looked a lot like the older women leaving Starbucks.

“Can you believe their nerve,” the blondest girl said. “You would think that she, of all people, could act better in public. Sheesh.” She turned her attention back to her phone, the three girls not paying any attention to each other until they caught something on their socials that they wanted to share publicly. “Hi, Daddy,” the blonde answered her phone, Facetiming her Father. “We’re at Starbucks now. Yes. We’re safe. I’m with Darla and Tawny, and Grace will meet us later.” She showed her Father the other girls, who also said, ‘Hi,’ tearing themselves away from their phones long enough to glance up at her Dad and then return to the electronic device absorbing all their attention. “Bye, Daddy. Love you!”

“I can’t believe you. Isn’t your Dad cheating on your Mom? You are acting like it’s not that big of a deal, Jen,” Darla said. “I thought you said you caught him.”

“Oh, I did.” Jen sipped her iced vanilla latte with a smug smile. “I’m blackmailing him. He pays for everything I want, or I tell Mother.”

“But won’t that hurt your Mom if she finds out that you know and are blackmailing him?” Tawny asked.

“Not when Mom told me to do it.” Jen smiled. “Come on, let’s go shopping, guys! My treat,” she pulled out a black credit card, waving it over her head. “It’s Daddy’s treat!” Squeals erupted from the table, the girls rushing out of Starbucks, nearly knocking over an older woman using a walker. She touched Jen’s leg just enough that Jen felt a shock radiate through her body. “Ouch!” Jen cried. “Watch it, old lady!”

The old lady smiled at her. “You think that’s an insult, young lady?” Her voice croaked, sounding like a creepy witch from an old sound effects record, something that Jen had but didn’t understand, especially not the lack of technology. “Fortune, it seems, has favored you. But very soon, you will be like her,” the older woman pointed out the door where a homeless woman stood, her leathery, wrinkled face looking back at the younger teen. “Karma. I say karma will befall you. Watch yourself.” She touched Jen one last time, sending a ripple of shivers through Jen’s skin. Darla and Tawny grabbed her, pulling her outside, their eyes wide.

Darla knew about Russian women and their way with words from the old world. Darla’s mother believed in curses, charms, palm readings, and tarot cards. But more important were the words from older women like this one. Darla didn’t know if she cursed her friend, but she wasn’t about to waste time getting out of Starbucks with her friend. “I’m sorry about my friend,” Darla said, all color fading from her face when the woman looked at her. “Please excuse us, Madam.” The woman’s thinning gray hair caught Darla’s attention, as did her smile.

“Well, dearie, I suppose I can let one small indiscretion from your friend go – unless there is something else you want to tell me,” she winked at the girl.

“Um, no, thank you, Madam. We’re going to leave now,” she pulled on Jen’s arm, dragging her outside.

The Madam winked and smiled at Darla. “Run home now, ladies,” she cackled. “Madame Treleane needs her caffeine.”