The Swedish Sex Bomb (LSD, #7)

7. The Ballad Of 32

The Ballad Of 32

"There she is." "There they are." "I knew it." "We knew it." "Our foretelling is always correct." "What we tell about tomorrow is more reliable than what Tabloidtidningen tells about yesterday." "I'll tell you your name is Camilla." "No, Meg. Her name is Ludmila." "And you're Kjell." "And you are too well-dressed to be her husband, so you must be Ludmila's lover." "Of course, he's her lover. He's married to Kristina. Kristina thinks Kjell's in Iceland right now."

Kjell interrupts us: "Stop! STOP! Who are you? And what are you doing here? Can't you see this lady and I are having a business lunch? You're very disturbing."

Frieda and I laugh exuberantly about so much lack of knowledge while we join Camilla and Kjell at their table: "You don't know who we are?" "Everybody knows who we are." "And we know everything about everybody." "The future has no secrets for us." "I'm Magic Megan..." "... and I'm Marvellous Margaret..." "... but everyone knows us as Meg 'n' Maggie, the magical magistrates." "And we know you're not having a business lunch." "We know that you, Camilla, work for Kjell." "A blow job is a job too." "But you're not working right now." "You're having lunch." "You've ordered drunken shrimps and Waldorf salad." "And Meg and I LOVE Waldorf salad and drunken shrimps..." "... and because we know everything, we also know there will be enough for four..." "... and we're hungry..." "... and we'll tell you about your future..." "... for just some shrimps and a fork-full of salad..." "... and we know you are interested..." "... and it's a fair price for the tips we have for you..." "... like those six winning numbers of tonight's Euro Million's Lottery..." "... that will make you a millionaire..." "... and we also know that you, Kjell, will hit the jackpot with your new line of fashion..." "... but only when you change the name into Flash Fashion because Fishion Fashion is a smelly idea..." "... and your wife will find out about your affair, but she will forgive you..." "... but only if you and Camilla invite her for a threesome..." "... because she's desperately looking for new sexual experiences..." "... and you're not giving her what she wants, Kjell..."

"How do you know all that?", Kjell wonders.

"Oh, we know everything, luv." "We read the cards and we see your future in our crystal ball." "Oh! We forgot our ball, Maggie." "Don't worry, my dear. I've foreseen that. We can read the future in a glass of champagne too. Garçon! Two glasses of champagne, please." "Make that a bottle, and bring two more glasses for our friends, Camilla and Kjell."

It's an act, but our pleasure is authentic. Frieda is having fun because I liked her idea and support her completely, and I'm having fun because she's having fun; I love to see that sparkle in her eyes, and that special smile.

Frieda is Magic Meg. I'm Marvellous Maggie. I'm marginal. Frieda is marvellous.

On the train, we studied every piece of information about Camilla and Kjell we could find. Kjell's lie about being in Iceland was on his Facebook page. The information about his wife came from the Social Report that #2, The Nerd, sent us. On his company's intranet, he read the news that Kjell's colleagues weren't thrilled with Kjell's idea of naming the new line Fishion Fashion. Frieda immediately came up with the much better name Flash Fashion, which was just an idea on top of her original (brilliant) plan to dress up like two gipsies, foretelling the future, so we could get the information about the past in return.

Looking at Frieda, Magic Megan, I cannot do anything else but smile. She stuns in her gipsy outfit. Her long, curly hair is painted black, her face and bare arms have the colour of a sun-burnt Southern European, she has more gold rings, necklaces and earrings than an average American rapper, and her long, exotic dress and bandana, both in all the colours of the rainbow, give her a magical look that bewitches me completely.

I'm looking good too. My long pastel pink dress with long sleeves is stuffed with everything we could find to give me the curves of a gipsy woman. My skin is two tones lighter than Frieda's; the paint hides the putty that gives me a female nose and cheekbones. Frieda did my make-up: I have blushing cheeks, long eyelashes, dark lines under my eyes and kiss-proof lipstick in an ugly shade of grey. A wig gives me black short-cut hair and hides the earplug that connects me to my spiPhone. The flower behind my ear is the perfect place for the camera with the built-in microphone, to record everything. The hardest part of my disguise is my long blood-red nails; I keep forgetting I'm wearing them.