By David William Jurgenson

Popock opened his door and found a short Egyptian girl staring at him expectantly. She had large, watery green eyes, sleek diamond lips, with a luscious mane of black hair flowing down to her hips.

Popock had to tear himself away from her large green eyes. “Can I help you miss?”

She smiled white, even teeth. “You don’t recognize me Popock?”

“Um…” He wanted to say no, but the buzz of six beers had puréed his mind. He would have remembered somebody this fine if he’d seen her before. 

Popock stroked the necklace he had bought at a Spanish Harlem pawn shop last week. It was a gris-gris, a good luck charm. He smiled, remembering the words the pawnshop broker had said to him, “You sure you want to buy that necklace and not something else, my bruddah? It’s got bad voodoo in it. Every time someone buys it, bad things happen to them. I’ve sold it three times, and every time, it returns to me. I’ve tried to get rid of it, but somehow it keeps finding its way back to me into my display case.” Popock had laughed out loud at the superstitious old Boomer. He thought it was funny the crazy old man believed magic was real. He had only bought it for fun.

“Are you new at Goldman? Sorry, if we’ve met but I don’t remember you.” Popock thought this might be a prank the Institutional trading team was playing on him. Popock was a binary options trader. Lately, things had not gone well. He had lost millions of dollars. He was drinking way too much these days. Then again, maybe Institutional had bought him an escort to cheer him up.

But his girlfriend Rachael was coming back from shopping at Fifth Avenue soon. He had to get rid of her, soon.

Popock stared at the girl’s huge breasts. He was distracted, unable to take his eyes off of her. “I’m sorry, I’m really busy right now. I’ve got a lot of things I’m dealing with at work. If Goldman Sachs didn’t send you, I think you’re at the wrong place.”

Popock saw a Jeulia Devil Eye necklace with a blood-red sapphire hanging on her neck. Embedded inside of the sapphire was a golden pyramid with a flaming eye. It was like the back of a one-dollar bill. As he looked, a flash of lightning winked inside the sapphire. The flaming eye came to life then rolled in his direction, making eye contact. Popock gasped. His throat worked, but no words came out.

He knew this wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Right? He must be imagining it because he was really feeling his beers. But a small, malevolent part of his brain whispered to him it was real. He fought goosebumps.

Popock started to close the door on her, but she easily slipped past him inside. God, I really need to sober up.

His condo was upscale. He had an interior designer decorate it with antique and modern sensibilities to look like the home of the Australian filmmaker, Baz Luhrmann. The girl said, “My name is Astral. I’m still surprised you don’t know me!”

“That’s really funny, our cat has the same name. She’s a Persian.” On his window, a streetlamp breathed through the glass like a snowy wintery moon. Raindrops rattled upon his window like corn kernels. “Anyway, I think you should leave.

Astral walked up to Popock, invading his personal space, her nose nearly touching his. “Night after night, as I sleep in bed with you, I hear you talk about how you wish you could find the woman of your dreams. Someone who gets you, who can make you complete.”

A deep longing of desire washed over Popock with her words. He had been wishing he could find someone he could fall in love with and get married to. He had been dreaming about leaving New York City and moving to California if he ever found the right person. Start over, maybe get a different job. He was starting to feel burnt out in the dog-eat-dog of banking. Banking was a world of numbers and it felt like he’d lost his soul. “Oh yeah? Who told you that?”

“You aren’t in love with Rachael. I can tell by how you act when you’re with her.”

“Wait, a minute! Are you some kind of stalker? Have you been following me?” But as soon as the words left Popock’s mouth, he realized she was right. Popock liked his girlfriend, Rachael. She had fun energy, but he couldn’t see himself marrying her. Popock longed to one day find somebody he felt a deep connection with.

“You talk in your sleep. That’s how I know.”

She’s just making stuff up now. He needed to get her out of here.  But for some weird reason, he felt compelled to ask her a final question. “Okay, let’s say I play along with you. If it’s not Rachael, who is this dream girl of mine?”

“Right here. It’s me. You and I have known each other in past lives. This is our ninth life together.” Astral gave him a brilliant smile. He looked at her lips. They were so close.

Despite Astral clearly being 5150, he was tempted to close the gap and kiss her. He imagined that tight body of hers wrapped around his. He could fool around and kick her out.

Oh man, what am I doing? My brain isn’t working. Rachael will be here!

Popock ran his hand through his hair. He had a déjà vu feeling, like he had known this girl before, but he couldn’t put his finger on where. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

“I’m your cat. Astral.”

“You’re my…my…WHAT? I can’t believe you said that! You’re crazy!”

The door opened and Rachael bustled in with department store shopping bags. Her braids and clothes were soaking wet. “Popock, you better appreciate that I got out of my Uber in this pouring monsoon, with no umbrella, to buy us some Grey Goose and soda –.” Rachael saw Astral and became very still. Rachel’s voice turned sharp. “Who the hell are you? What’s going on Popock? Did I just catch you about to cheat on me?”

“No, she just showed up at our door and pushed her way in. She’s crazy Rach. She thinks she’s our cat Astral.”

Rachael shook her head from side to side and wagged her finger at Popock. “You expect me to believe this girl, who looks like a hooker, just randomly showed up at our door? Yeah right. And I met aliens at the liquor shop!” She gave Astral a mocking smile. “What do you charge, sweetheart? $20 an hour?”

“I’m not a sex worker. I don’t charge anything,” Astral barred her perfect teeth and jutted her chin out. “I’m your cat, Astral. I love John and he takes good care of me. John made a wish and his gris-gris made it come true. The gris-gris made me human.”

“See? I told you, she’s totally nuts. She thinks she’s a cat.”

Rachael looked at him like hot garbage. “Popock, don’t lie to me! You better start being straight with me! I know this slut didn’t just show up by herself. I know you had to have something to do with it.”

“I’ve been trying to get rid of her but it’s been impossible.”

 “John doesn’t love you Rachael. I think you’d better leave.” Then Astral hissed at Rachael.

Rachael looked at Astral and narrowed her eyes. Her beautiful caramel face flushed dark chocolate. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming here, talking to me like that? This is my boyfriend! You’re in my home! Get the hell out of here! Go back to hooking on your street corner!”

“No! I’m not leaving!  I live here!” Astral’s voice rose.

“Okay. So you like that gris-gris? I’m going to tear it from Popock’s neck and throw it out the window! Maybe that will get you to leave!”

Rachael’s hands became claws and she rushed at Popock. “Give me that stupid thing!” She tore off one of the gris-gris strings.

“No! Don’t touch it! Stop!” Astral grabbed Rachael’s hands and wrestled her away.

Popock’s neck felt on fire. His right arm felt strange. Something was wrong. He looked down and saw his whole arm covered in fur. He tried to speak but no words came out. He could only make a squeak.

Popock looked back and forth at Astral and Rachael, like a spectator at a tennis match. Astral grappled with Rachael, shouting, “Don’t let her break your gris-gris! If she does, you’ll get cursed!”

Popock’s lower mouth fell like a guillotine. He waved his arms like wings. “Hey! The two of you! Stop fighting!”

Rachael had far more size on Astral. She freed her hands from her and cast her aside. Astral fell onto the floor like a sack of groceries. Rachael charged at Popock, ripping the gris-gris off his neck. She ran to the window, opened it, and threw it out into the rain.

She slammed the window then whirled around. “Now, why don’t you go get your precious little necklace you-!”

Her words died in her mouth as she looked down. On the floor were two cats where Astal and Popock had been standing. She recognized one of them. It was their Persian cat Astral. Beside Astral was a black cat she didn’t recognize. The black cat’s mouth hung open in an O. It was making squeaking noises.

Astral licked the face of the black cat.

“Oh, my God! She was right!”

Rachael backed away slowly toward the door. “She. Was. Right.”

Rachael shakily opened the door, sobbing. She took off down the hallway. Racing down the stairs two at a time, she wailed aloud, thinking if she hadn’t behaved so badly, none of this might have happened. It was all her fault.

She reached the street. She looked around. She was sure this was where she had thrown the gris-gris.

But it wasn’t there.

How had it disappeared so quickly? It hasn’t even been five minutes. How could someone have found it so quickly?

She remembered Popock saying the pawnshop broker had said the gris-gris returned back to his shop because it had bad voodoo. She repressed a shudder.In the distance, she heard the cats begin to howl from their condo. The sound was eerily human.

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This story was originally published in Mobius Blvd magazine.