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She raised an eyebrow at me, and pouted in mockery. “Scared?”
I didn’t answer. My libido was spinning in circles, freed after all these years, taking up every available space in my brain. It was a little intoxicating. Maybe I had a fetish for being belittled by impossibly beautiful tarot card readers. Or perhaps I’d finally gone mad.
I paid the fee, hovering my phone over her card reader until it gave the satisfying ‘beep’ that meant I was throwing money down the drain.
The grumpy old man in my brain grumbled at the fact that this was surely ten times the price I’d have to pay if I went to one of those backdoor tarot places advertised on the back of flyers. I could see why she’d chosen her market to be successful business leaders.
But the grumpy old man in my brain was considerably overpowered by the horny teenager in my brain right now. At my current state of dangerously-close-to-becoming-aroused, I’d have paid any sum she’d asked. Besides, I was wealthier than most people could hope to be in their lives. Somehow, I managed to forget that I could spare it, and more.
I followed her into the tent. Inside, there were artificial candles dotted around, as well as more hanging silks, creating a cozy glow. My body felt suddenly loose, as if all the knots in my muscles had suddenly started to unwind. Yes, I had needed some respite. I wasn’t yet sure whether a tarot card reading would count as respite, but I hoped so.
“Take a seat.” She gestured at the small fold-out chair.
I sat. She sat opposite to me, browsing through a small selection of card decks. Her perfume floated over to me, and I slightly adjusted my sitting position in case my body were to have a sudden reaction, much like a pubescent teenager.
I stared at the tarot card decks, trying to turn myself off by reminding myself I was about to have a card reading, but all I could see were her nimble fingers. I cleared my throat. “Those are all different?”
She nodded. “I’m choosing the best one for this reading. I think I’ll use a classic for you.” She selected one and held it up so I could see. “This is one of the most recognisable decks, you might have seen it before. The Rider Waite, it’s called.”
“Mmm.” I nodded, not really taking it in.
“Can I have your name?”
I couldn’t tell if she was feigning it or if she really didn’t know who I was. “Forest.”
“You sound like you could be a distant cousin.” She winked at me. “Forest Moon. Has a ring to it.”
That was just disgusting enough to snap me out of the reverie that her wink would have caused me. “It’s Forest Brock, so thankfully not.”
The ‘thankfully’ sounded like I was scorning her family or family name. In fact, I was thankful we weren’t related because to be attracted to my cousin would not be a desirable event.
She looked up from her deck with a glimmer of recognition. Likely she was just now realizing she had the CEO of the company at her table – and that she’d argued him down. To her credit, she didn’t say anything or change her mannerism.
As she shuffled the deck, she spoke, glancing up at me occasionally. “This problem that you have. You need to picture it as strongly as you can. You’re welcome to speak about it aloud, but you don’t have to. I don’t need to know the specifics to be able to help you. A tarot reading is a collaboration between the two of us, but only you need the final result.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
Then I frowned. That meant I actually had to picture Apollo, which I detested doing. And yet, since his image came unbidden, tauntingly to me so often anyway, I may as well, if this had even a glimmer of a chance of helping me out of my conundrum.
She held out the deck in one hand, and her other hand empty. “I need you to split the deck for me, while thinking about the problem. Pick a chunk of cards off the top, as many as you want. Put it into my other hand.”
I complied: held the image of Apollo’s stupid smug face in mind while I picked up half the deck and plonked it unceremoniously in her palm.
She retrieved the two stacks of cards, placed the top section underneath the bottom section, then swiftly dealt three of the large cards out onto the table, face down. “These represent the past, present, and future of your problem. I’ll overturn them one at a time, and we will discuss them before forming an opinion. Ready to proceed?”
I nodded, feeling slightly daunted.
She turned over the first card. I leaned over slightly to see it in detail. It was namedThe Tower.
“This is your past. The Tower. Look at the card, the symbols. Tell me what you see. Be as literal as you want. A meaning doesn’t always come to us immediately.”
I squinted at the card, feeling a little foolish. “Well, it’s a tower. There’s a crown being knocked off the top of it... it’s been struck by lightning, and now it’s on fire. And there’s two people jumping down, or, falling, through the clouds...”
She nodded encouragingly. “The Tower is generally a card of upheaval, or revelation. That can be good or bad. No card is negative by default, but the Tower is certainly a dramatic card. The symbolism is quite destructive. This indicates the origin of your problem may have been during a large upheaval, or destructive event, somehow.”
I stared at the crown, and thought of my biological father, Emory. It was his death that had meant his five biological children had had to come together to decide what to do with his estate and businesses. That was certainly an upheaval. I wasn’t sure about a revelation. But the crowd had been struck off the tower by a lightning bolt – Emory had died – and the tower was on fire, and all the occupants were jumping ship.
I kept staring at that crown. “Do you know my family history, Ria Moon?”
