Seeing no one else on the street, Gordo pulled a ski mask over his head, gripped his weapon, and walked into the small shop.

“Give me all the money.”

Madame Olga’s eyes narrowed to yellow slits.

“You don’t fool me.”

“What?”

Madame Olga pointed to her crystal ball on the counter next to the cash register.

“I’m a fortuneteller… Your gun isn’t loaded.”

Pointing the weapon to the tin ceiling, Gordo let off a round. And as the echo faded, “Not loaded, huh?”

“Damn, that crystal ball must be on the fritz again.”

“Whatever… Just give me the money. I know you take cash.”

“And here it told me that the next person coming in had something to do with winning this week’s lottery.”

“What?”

“Yeah. 7 million.”

“What do you mean? I’m the winner?”

“Sit down.”

He figured what the hell. Why not check out his future even if the old woman was off about his gun and seemed, well, a little off herself.

“Do you know someone named… Let’s see. Damn, this’s cloudy.”

Old inexpensive crystal balls get that way.

“No, I don’t know any Cloudy. But I knew a guy once named Claude, kind of a loser in the correctional facility… I went out with his sister, Rayette.”

“That’s good enough… And you liked her, huh?”

He recalled the times he and Rayette went to an inexpensive Italian restaurant, and the times Rayette treated him. Those were the meals he liked.

“You know with $7 million, Frank…”

“What’d you mean Frank? My name’s Gordo.”

Madame Olga smacked the ball, which rolled dangerously close to the edge of the counter.

“Remember those old television sets that you had to hit to get working right. This thing’s the same.”

“Before my time.”

Madame Olga looked up to the hole in the ceiling as though it were a portal to the future. Most people, regular people, those who aren’t fortunetellers, see the past but not the future.

“It keeps coming up with the name Frank.”

“My name’s Gordo.”

“Do you know anyone named Frank?
Maybe that’s what I was picking up.”

With the butt of his gun, Gordo scratched his head to massage his memory. Of course, Frank Crumley, his second cousin. He blurted out the name and relationship.

“Where is he?”

“Out of the correctional too… In fact, I think he’s going out now with Rayette.”

“Forget about her and about robbing me. There’s not a moment to lose, Gordo. You’ve got to get out of here now and find your cousin.”

“Second cousin.”

“Right, second. Make sure he buys a lottery ticket.”

“Lottery ticket, okay. Then what?”

“Then?… Why, then it’ll be up to you, Gordo.”