July 3, 2008: The Psychic Business Is Tough Work

Story and Photo By Joe Zlomek

Reena The Psychic sat at a small, gold-colored circular table outside her storefront offices at 44th Street and Ninth Avenue in Manhattan, facing pedestrians as they passed. It was 6:15, only late afternoon by New York City standards, and Reena sipped from a bottle of Diet Snapple ice tea as she shouted at people strolling the sidewalk, headed southwest toward the upper 30s and beyond.

"Get your palms read," she called to anyone within range. "Only $10. Know what's in your future."

Two similarly gold-colored chairs were placed opposite where Reena sat, and for the moment they remained unoccupied. Maybe Reena knew they would be filled soon. Maybe she knew someone with a spare $10 in their pocket and a burning desire to know their future was headed her way. Or maybe she knew that her only chance to make a few final dollars in the waning Wednesday (July 2, 2008) daylight was to rustle up business by wooing home-bound travelers.

Reena wore a low-cut madras print sundress, supported by spaghetti-thin shoulder straps. As she sat, hunched slightly over the table, it allowed her to expose just enough of her breasts to seem alluring without being provocative or offensive. She called again as a young man, who spotted her cleavage just as Reena spotted him, rushed in front of her.

"Only $10," she repeated in his direction, while pointing to a sign on the storefront door behind her that announced as much. "I'll give you a good reading," she said, smiling.

She probably would have, too. Reena's storefront looked pleasant enough; not a seedy operation by any means. Even on Ninth, although the location hardly commanded the same money as uptown, her monthly rent surely was substantial. She must have been reading something right.

But the man seemed less interested in Reena, her dual charms notwithstanding, than he was in a menu posted outside the restaurant next door. He stopped to scan the bill of fare, checked its prices, and headed inside.

Reena undoubtedly knew that was his plan before he knew it.

She yawned, and held her right middle finger outstretched between her nose and mouth until the yawn subsided. Yet another prospect, a woman this time, was headed down the street in Reena's direction. "Get your palms read?"