Not in the Cards Page 7

  Her phone buzzed loudly in her purse, and she flushed. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll just put that on silent.” She reached into her purse for her phone, pulled it out, and in the process, flung the condoms Drew had given her across the table where they landed on Vincent’s plate.

  He picked them up, handed them back without comment, and she tucked them back in her purse with her now-silenced phone. She picked up her wine glass, took a long gulp, and then said, “Nice weather for October, don’t you think?”

  “Why are you so nervous?” he asked.

  “It’s my first first date in almost ten years. You?”

  “I’m not nervous,” he lied.

  She laughed at him. “You keep straightening your silverware so it’s perfectly in line with the edge of the table and square your napkin every time you take a sip of wine.”

  “Maybe I’m OCD.”

  “Maybe you watched that Jack Nicholson movie one too many times. That’s not what OCD is.” Sandy felt a flush heat her face, but she didn’t back down. This would go nowhere if he were the type to make off-hand jokes about mental illness. She reminded herself that she wasn’t here for a real date—that it was an information-gathering date only—but that reminder fell flat in the face of her attraction.

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I know better. Thanks for calling me out.”

  And just like that, the ice was broken.

  Chapter Seven

  Two hours later, and they were still in the restaurant sipping wine. Sandy was laughing at Victor’s recounting of a story from when he briefly thought to join a fraternity in college and was kicked out during the hazing for calling it a ‘frat.’

  “And the guy in charge of making us drink until we fell down turned to me, got right up in my face, and screamed, ‘You do not call a fraternity a frat! Would you call your country a—’” he trailed off, and his cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m sorry. That was crude. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Sandy laughed. “It’s okay. It was funny, and I don’t mind an off-color joke from time to time, as long as that’s not your entire repertoire.”

  “Well isn’t this cozy,” a voice interrupted. “Of all the people in the world I expected to run into here, you were not on the list.”

  Sandy’s heart skipped a beat as she froze in trepidation. She put down the fork she’d been using to shovel the decadent pear bread pudding into her mouth, swallowed, and looked up. “Hello, Aaron.”

  “It didn’t take you long to move on, did it? The divorce isn’t even final, and you’re already out with another man.”

  “This is your ex-husband?” Vincent asked incredulously.

  “Not her ex yet,” Aaron said, more smugly than the situation warranted.

  “We’re just waiting for the judge to sign the paperwork,” Sandy muttered. “It’s a formality.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?” Aaron asked.

  “Why are you doing this? Did you follow me here?”

  “Of course not. Why would I follow you?”

  “You told me on the phone you wanted me back. I can only assume this is some desperate ploy to get what you want.”

  “I’m not the desperate one here, jumping into bed with the first guy that offers. Have you that little respect for our marriage?”

  People were starting to stare, and Sandy felt a flush heating her skin. She looked at Vincent. “Can we go?”

  “Do you need a minute with…him?” Vincent asked.

  Sandy rolled her eyes. “Probably.”

  “Then go, I’ll take care of the check and meet you by the car.”

  Sandy gave him a grateful smile, grabbed her things, and went out to the parking lot, trailed by Aaron.

  “Respect for our marriage?” she shouted as soon as they were out of earshot of everyone else. “I caught you in the act with another woman while we were still actually married. Me having dinner with someone else a couple weeks before our divorce is final is nowhere near that. Now, why are you here?”

  Aaron walked over to a shiny sports car and leaned on it with exaggerated casualness. “I think we can make it work, babe.”

  “New car?”

  “It’s yours if you want it.”

  “I don’t. My car is just fine.”

  “Your car is ten years old and has a dent in the rear bumper.”

  “It’s paid off, runs well, and has never given me a moment of trouble.”

  “I worry about the brakes,” Aaron said. “This car is brand new and is yours, free and clear.”

  “Free and clear, no strings attached?” Sandy asked. She knew what the fine print would read, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  “If you come back to me, it’s yours. We can rescind the divorce papers. I’ve had some really good luck in the market lately, and we’ll never have to struggle for anything again.”

  “You paid cash for that thing?” She jutted her chin at the sports car.

  “That thing is a brand-new Aston Martin Vantage. It’s very expensive.”

  Sandy curled her lip in distaste. “It’s pee yellow.”

  “It’s lime green,” he said. “Don’t you want it?”

  “No. I don’t want it, and I don’t want you. No amount of bribery will make me forget walking in on you with that woman. There is nothing you can do.”

  Aaron sighed, opened the trunk of the car, and pulled out a dark bundle. Sandy took a couple steps back out of instinct, but before she could make her escape complete, he turned back around and proffered a bouquet of orchids. She’d always hated orchids—too fragile and exotic to be practical. She loved tulips and lilacs and irises instead. Aaron never cared about what she wanted, though. He always wanted the best, and the best meant the most expensive. Never mind what she wanted.

  He hadn’t changed a bit.

  “No, thank you,” she said to the flowers. “I’m not interested.”

  “I drove all the way out here to see you,” he ground out. “The least you could do is take the damn flowers.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come, I still don’t know how you found me, and I don’t want your gifts.”

  “It’s not hard to find a person out in hicksville like this. All I had to do is ask around, and everyone knew who you were, what you’d been up to, and who you were with. I can’t believe you’re here with him.”

  Sandy squinted up at him in the near dark. The parking lot was poorly lit, something that was beginning to make her increasingly uncomfortable. “Him? You mean Vincent? What’s wrong with Vincent?”

  “You know he’s a criminal, right? I bet he didn’t tell you that.”

  “As a matter of fact, I know exactly who he is,” Sandy said. “I know what he was accused of, why he’s in Oracle Bay, and that he’s innocent.”

  It might’ve been her imagination or the play of flickering streetlights on his skin, but it seemed like Aaron paled a bit at that. He changed tactics. “You’re a psychic now? Good luck with that life. Of course, you always were good at convincing people that lies were truth. Maybe this job is right up your alley.”

  Sandy’s jaw dropped. “What the actual hell are you talking about, Aaron? What lies did I convince people were true? From my side of things, the only one lying and covering up the truth was you.”

  He spun on his heel and stalked off, sliding into the driver’s seat of the admittedly gorgeous—even with its rather unfortunate color—Aston Martin, kicking up dust and gravel as he spun out of the parking lot.

  A hand touched her back, and she yelped in surprise and shot several inches up and away from whoever’d touched her. She turned, fists clenched, breathing hard, and ready to fight.

  When she saw Vincent standing there, she relaxed her arms and said, “You scared the hell out of me, Vincent! Don’t sneak up on me again.”

  “I thought you knew I was there,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “How long were you listening?”

  “I walked out in time to see h
im drive off in a huff. Nice car, though. Expensive.” He handed her a box.

  “What’s this?”

  “The rest of the bread pudding and a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake. I was hoping we could go back to my hotel, claim a table at the bar, have another glass of wine, and finish the evening on a more pleasant note.”

  Sandy smiled, remembered that she hadn’t actually done any of her double-agent spy work for the psychics’ union, and agreed.

  Sandy prepared her small shop for the day, making sure the lights were still bright enough to see by, sweeping the dust and cobwebs out of the corner in her never-ending war with the shop’s determination to be a little bit dingy. She oiled the hinges on the door, not that it ever did any good, then flipped the switch on her sign.

  As she waited for her first customer—the clients were not as sparse as she’d first feared when she opened the shop, something about Oracle Bay made a person want to have their fortunes told—she thought about the rest of last night.

  When she and Vincent had returned to the hotel, they’d settled in at a table in the back, ordered a bottle of wine from Russell, who other than a knowing wink left them alone, and started her espionage work.

  She didn’t learn much at all about what had happened. He didn’t want to talk about his legal and financial troubles on a date, he said. Which was fair, she supposed. He brought up Aaron a couple of times, and she changed the subject, not wanting him to intrude any more into their evening than he already had.

  He’d walked her home, kissed her hand, then left with a promise to see her again soon.

  She smiled as butterflies took flight in her stomach. She’d not felt this way in a long time.

  The bell jangled, and the door screeched open. Sandy tried to compose herself and return to her ‘serious psychic’ persona, but it was hard to wipe the grin off her face. She stood and approached the new customer. It was Misty.

  “Oh, hey,” Sandy said. “Here for a reading?”

  “Nope, just a report. How was the big date?”

  Sandy led her into the back room where they could sit and have tea, then hit the highlights and confessed that she’d gotten nothing about the financial situation from him, just that he was reluctant to sell.

  “That’s good!” Misty said. “That’ll give us time to figure something out.” She held out her hand, and Sandy instinctively took it. Misty dropped it like it was hot, stared at her, and said, “Tell me more about your ex-husband.”

  The door screeched open, and the newly installed bell jangled. “Saved by the bell,” Sandy said.

  “For now,” Misty allowed. “I’ll see myself out the back.”

  Sandy went forward to set her tea down and greet the new arrival as Misty headed out the back door.

  Vincent was standing in the middle of the main shop area.

  “Hi,” she said. Suddenly shy, she twined a rogue curl around her finger until she realized what she was doing, then dropped it, flushed, and held out her hand.

  Vincent took her hand, pulled her forward, and looked down at her.

  She held her breath. She’d been a little disappointed last night when his lips only met the back of her hand. Would that change now?

  He smiled, turned her hand up, and laid a kiss right in the middle of her palm. Shock waves echoed through her body, and she clenched her thighs. A kiss on the hand should not have that effect on her. Maybe it’d been a while, but still…this was ridiculous.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice huskier than she remembered. “I was wondering if I could trouble you for another reading?”

  “Why?” she asked, then cursed herself. Never ask why someone wants to buy your service.

  He grinned, the impish expression taking off the years recent stress had added. “One, I’m beginning to believe that all you…psychics…are more than charlatans, and I could use all the guidance I can get. And two, I wanted to see you again, and this seemed as good an excuse as any.”

  She blushed, led him back to her table, and pulled out the cards.

  “I’m going to do my favorite layout for you today. It’s a Celtic Cross and costs forty dollars. It’ll give us the best picture of what’s going on now, what’s happened in the past, and where you need to go to solve your problem.”

  After he paid her, she took out the cards and handed them to him. “Same deal as before. Think about what you want to get from this reading. When you’re ready, hand me the cards.”

  He did as she asked, and she cut the cards and began laying them out. After she’d placed all ten cards, she leaned back, pursed her lips, and regarded the table before speaking.

  “The Queen of Cups is the significator card, representing the current situation and who you are right now. Your emotions are in charge, leaving little room for logic. This is causing you undue stress. Based on the number of swords in the layout—and what I know of you—logic is something you typically pride yourself on. Your inability to cut through the emotions you’re feeling about your current situation is hindering your ability to solve it.”

  “Is it solvable, though?” Vincent asked, overtones of bitterness in his voice.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” Sandy replied. “Your crossing card, the six of pentacles, is what’s worrying you about this particular situation. In the interest of honesty, let’s go ahead and call ‘the situation’ what it is.”

  “Mike Sorrentino?” Vincent interrupted.

  Sandy dissolved in laughter. “Did you really just make a Jersey Shore joke? Did I really just get your Jersey Shore joke?” She pulled herself together and continued. “It’s probably safe to assume that what’s foremost in your mind is the financial situation caused by the false accusations of embezzlement.”

  “I didn’t tell you that,” he started.

  “Small town, psychics talk. Also, we know stuff. I got it from your cards. Whatever. Does it matter?”

  “I guess not; please continue.”

  “You’re worried about your financial situation. You used to spend freely, and now you can’t. You’re concerned that financial freedom is a thing of the past, and that you’re doomed to a life of poverty, unable to get a good job because of these accusations.

  “The crowning card—the seven of pentacles here at the top—represents your conscious feelings about this situation. You can’t get past your fear of failure and your frustration over the setback in your life, but it also represents your inner determination to persevere through this and find a new beginning for yourself, no matter how difficult that might be. You know you have some difficult decisions coming your way, and you’re unsure as to how you’ll handle them.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Vincent muttered.

  “This card,” she tapped the king of cups at the bottom of the layout, “is your foundation; your subconscious motivations. You want to be the authority figure; the one to whom people go for help. However, you’re beginning to realize that maybe this time, in addition to seeking help and foresight from within, you may need external assistance.

  “Your past influences are represented by the page of swords. Swords are the cards of logic and air. You have three of the four royal court cards in swords, which leads me to believe that logic is something you value very highly. This makes sense in your career in finance. In your past, there were spies, intrigue, trickery, and much of it manifested from spite. The future influences card, the Devil, means that your old enemy is reentering your life. You will need to be strong and self-reflective if you don’t want to end up on a path of self-destruction again. Your suffering, although it had an external cause in this enemy who is represented by both the page of swords, an immature trickster, and the Devil, a much more mature trickster, is largely self-imposed at this point. You cannot let this person get to you. Their trickery may have matured, but they are still spiteful, and you are better than that.”

  Sandy was shocked at the vehemence in her voice and took a deep breath to calm down.

  “Now we’re at the last fo
ur cards. We’ll read them from the bottom up, and they will tell us how you see yourself, how much support you have from family and friends, your hopes and fears about your financial situation, and the probable outcome.”

  Sandy took a sip of the tea she’d made herself while Misty had been there and grimaced when it was only lukewarm.

  “You see yourself as the king of swords—intelligent, logical, and fair. You’re worried about encountering other authority figures who aren’t logical and fair, but know that you’ll need to stay balanced and step up to meet this challenge. Your friends and family—your support network—are represented by yet another court card from the suit of swords. The queen of swords tells us that your friends are concerned for justice and believe that there are details that are being overlooked that are preventing justice from happening. Your supporters need you to get tough, ask the hard questions of you and others who might know the answers, and use the innate logic and intelligence at your disposal to solve this problem.

  “The Wheel of Fortune is your hopes and fears. Everything happens for a reason, and that’s both uplifting and terrifying. You’re starting a new part of your life, and you’re not as excited about it as you could be, due to the loss of fortune that’s accompanying it. There’s too much change too fast, but part of you knows that something amazing could come from all this.”

  “I think I’ve found the amazing piece,” Vincent said, looking directly at her until she could no longer hold his gaze.

  Her voice rose a couple steps as she continued. “The probable outcome, if you use logic and not fear to dictate your decisions, is that you will start a new life, one that is more fulfilling. You need to listen to your heart, but let your head rule, and you’ll get what you need. Maybe not what you want, though. They’re not always the same thing.”

  No one said anything for a while; Sandy because she was still recovering from the efforts of prophesying and Vincent because he was taking it all in.