Never Fear - The Tarot: Do You Really Want To Know? by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 13Thirty Books, LLP
Published: 2016-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Now...

In the room, he had lain down on the floor. Not cold, but with that sweaty covering that stone floors got.

And he thought.... always good at solving problems.

Right?

Right!

So how the fucking hell to solve this?

He looked up at the window, now a dull grey smear. Sun behind clouds, or maybe it was late?

What time was it?

Not a clue.

So he closed his eyes.

*

The woman came over to him.

And while he expected that, he didn’t expect that look in her eyes, locked right on his. Bold, as if this particular game was one she had played before.

Interesting.

And the closer she came, the more he could take in other aspects. The skyscraper stilettos, the black, brilliant.

Could be knockoffs.

Or they could be authentic Christian Louboutins.

Hard to tell without a close examination.

Which of course was in his flight plan.

The eyes, lips... a beautiful woman, especially with jet-black hair pulled back, and up. As if causal. But anything but causal.

She held that look.

“Nice night,” she said.

Only then moving her eyes away to look at the glittering city. This city now made—in his mind—for people like them. A kingdom for, of, and by the wealthy, or those who could—one damn way or the other—make themselves wealthy.

In this city, mention the words “real estate,” and well you might as well be talking about gold, silver.

Uncle Scrooge’s vault with its sea of coins and jewels.

Real Estate.

So unreal.

One thing he could tell, about this woman—he had developed antennae for such things—she was no pro.

Those operators, even when well masked and well-heeled, he could sniff out from a block away.

No.

So he smiled back.

“I’d say... a perfect night.”

And he resisted the cheesy phrase that dangled in his mind like sucker bait... for a sucker fish.

Made only more perfect by your arrival.

Less is more.

In most cases.

Not all.

She nodded, smiled. Looked down at his glass of Stoli, the cut-crystal catching candle-light, cubes glistening.

She didn’t need to ask.

“Would you like one?”

Another nod. The smallest smile.

Those lips... quite something.

And it took “quite something” to genuinely catch his interest.

He waved over to one of the rooftop bartenders.

The $20 tip he gave him for the first round, doing its work. And the bartender ducked under the fold-down end of the bar and hurried over to take an order.

Because, well, in his world that’s just the way things worked.

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