Chapter Thirteen

Kit

Breathing a sigh of relief after a multitude of tarot readings finish without any major glitches is a luxury in this economy. When you make looking into people's inner world your business, maintaining five stars on Google is the opposite of easy. I never know for sure what the cards will reveal about the querent, or if the revelation is something they'll want another human being in on. When things go south, it's on me to spin it or get spun out.

This group, at least, came for the truth.

Coco asked point-blank if her lingerie brand would go global. I modified my five-card draw into a "path and obstacle" spread, with three influencing cards. Pulling the Sun, upright, was a good start, even if the obstacle was the Five of Pentacles, also upright, indicating financial struggle on her road to success.

"Forlorn much?" Coco said, batting Natalie away from snapping a clear shot. The woman on the card wore an exaggerated expression of grief, holding an empty bowl. The five pentacles—which in this deck are depicted with pomegranates—sit just out of reach.

I spun the negative into a ball of light, emphasizing the importance of inner work reflected in both of these cards.

"So, more sound baths and Reiki cleanses?" Coco grunted.

"Up to you," I said with a smile. "It's a call to action. To dig deeper."

" Ick ," she replied, as if I just gave her a homework assignment on the first day of school. "Isn't there a spell or something I can do?"

"Not my area of expertise," I said, with a small chuckle. This got a smile of approval.

I didn't broach the subject of filming a reading with her, but hopefully this whets her appetite for more. Coco would be perfect for something on camera, and something tells me she still has stuff on her mind.

Namely, Jenni, whose entire reading was about moving on from a past hurt—Coco, I suspect. At one point, she even said, out loud, through an open scowl, that "the cards can tell me to trust again all night long, but can they at least acknowledge my issues are earned?"

They did. When I laid out Justice, upright, I explained that this card usually indicates a wrongdoing by someone other than the querent, and can be a sign that vindication is coming, but Coco was flirting with Suni and missed the meaningful glare Jenni shot her way, so maybe not tonight.

Maddie will definitely be meeting a guy in the future, and it looks like a promising courtship, despite pulling the Moon, upright, which often indicates delusion or anxiety.

"That's it, I am totally firing my manager," Lisa exclaimed, thanks to the meaningful placement of the Tower, upright, in her reading about her career.

Heather and her boyfriend are going to do it—move to Anaheim to be closer to Disneyland, that is.

There are two people left in the room who haven't had their cards read, and I genuinely can't decide if I want them to accept or pass on my services.

Reading Julia's cards feels like a conflict of interest given our history and my jumbled-up feelings ever since I saw her face at Homebase. I could douse myself full-body in cleansing spray and still not clear my energy enough to not influence her reading somehow. But if the cards could reveal something meaningful—give me some kind of insight into the mystery of her buttoned-up transformation—then fuck my conscience.

Piper? I'm less concerned about my energy, and more that the reading will fail. Bad readings—ones where the querent doesn't believe in the intuitive power of the cards or isn't willing to open up and receive the answers waiting—go south fast.

Piper doesn't seem like the type to let Spirit lead .

And, sure, she also seems to low-key hate me for some reason I can't figure out.

I clear my throat, shuffle the cards, and decide to let them choose their own fate. It's not up to me, and as soon as their readings are over, I'm done, off duty. Back on the party bus to my temporary home, where I have a date with a bottle of rosé and the bathtub beneath the stars.

"Last call for readings, ladies," I say, shuffle, shuffle, swoosh, swoosh .

Piper stands directly across from me at the refreshment table. She's sipping gingerly on a cup of cucumber-infused ice water. Her eyes drift to Julia, who is on my left, and has been for the duration of the readings.

Not that I've been keeping track of her or anything.

Shuffle. Swoosh.

I let my gaze drop to Julia's face. She's pulled her hair up, this time in a high messy bun, probably in response to the warmth in the room. Her bomber jacket rests across the tops of her thighs. Her cheeks flush, a gentle kiss of pink on the apples.

Take me up on it. Come on. I dare you.

Julia lifts her eyes to mine, holding the contact, one, two, three seconds; the moment stretches out between us like a rubber band poised on the points of two fingers, ready to snap. The dare in my heart resonates through me, begging her to take me up on it, and even though I shouldn't care about her, or wonder why she barely resembles the girl I was madly, intensely into when we were young, it's all I care about, all I can think about—

"I'll give it a go." Piper's voice breaks in, yanking me out of my spiral. She moves from her place by the refreshment table, stiff and resigned, dropping with impeccable control into the seat across from me. Julia shifts, the tension that was between us sharpening into something hostile directed at Piper.

I force myself to focus on the querent. She's a guest, this is my job; so what if there is an elephant-sized history between them that keeps making a play for the center of attention? I paint a smile on. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. "We could go with a more general reading—"

"Love," Piper interrupts. "Tell me about my love life."

"Oooooh," Coco chimes. Giggles erupt in pockets around the group. Noticeably, Julia is stoic as a statue.

"This should be interesting," Lisa pipes up. Piper doesn't care about the audience. Her focus is laser.

"Three-card love spreads are pretty classic," I say, holding the cards still midshuffle. "For that kind of query." Her nostrils flare, she considers, and then she gives a swift nod.

One more shuffle and I hold out the deck for her to break. She does it once, pausing, considering. She's taking this a lot more seriously than I expected. In my experience, the Pipers of the world look down their noses at spiritual practices like this. She might not be a skeptic at her core after all.

"You can break it again," I say, watching her closely for a reaction.

"But I don't have to," she replies, eyes up to mine.

"No, you don't have to."

She crosses her arms, resting them on the table. I put the deck back together with her choice on top before drawing the first card toward her.

Three of Swords, upright. Iconic, recognizable with its three swords piercing a heart shape. In this deck, the heart is entwined in vines, the handles of the swords are embossed with a gold leaf foil. They catch the moonlight, making it bounce.

I brush the edges of the card with my fingertips. In larger spreads, the message of the Three of Swords can be tempered by the cards around it, influenced to have a less harsh inference or to be representative of something besides heartache if the position allows. But this is a three-card love spread—this heartache can only mean one thing.

"I can assume this long pause is you trying to find a spin so I don't feel embarrassed," Piper says. Generous assumption, but not totally off base. "It's fine. I had a breakup last year."

I find Millie standing nearby and try to get a gauge on how much she knows about this situation. Her clear and present surprise tells me the answer: Not a goddamn thing.

When I met her earlier, Piper did indicate that she and Millie hadn't seen each other in a minute, and she isn't really the type to offer up personal details without laborious excavation.

"This card represents a sharp and sudden pain or loss. It's not a nonchalant experience. Placed so early on the road of the Fool's Journey through the swords, it also signals the kind of foundationally disruptive pain that leads to transformation." I let the concept rest in the air between us.

Piper blinks. "It was a bad breakup." She deliberates, her copper brows tensing. "Yes."

I flip the second card toward her.

Death, upright.

Murmurs sweep through the yurt. Someone—my money is on Coco—whisper-screams "shitballs." Julia moves for the first time since I started my readings. She stands, yanking her jacket back on, moving through the group toward the table of refreshments. Piper's eyes trail up, following her, and then back to me. Their color is a saturated hazel brown, deep and warm, and the energy emanating from them carries unfettered intensity.

Julia pours a glass of cucumber water so fast that some splashes out over the rim of the cup; she gulps it down with just as much haste.

Something about this reading has her on the run.

Piper's eyes sheen. "Assuming this has a less literal translation."

"Death is one of the most misunderstood cards in the deck," I say.

Stay the course.

My compass keeps pointing me this way, and as much as I want to run the opposite direction, I can't. I can try to ignore Julia moving in the room, try to ignore the feeling of her eyes shifting to me, settling, roaming my face. I can compartmentalize knowing this query of Piper's is linked to her.

Every feeling just has to be shoved down down down .

"Sitting next to the Three of Swords, Death compels me to believe you've taken the lesson from your breakup and used it to begin a transformation."

In love, Death sometimes talks about a change in the kinds of people you are attracted to, or even your whole idea about what it means to love or be loved. I take in her guarded expression. She and Julia are serving up somebody that I used to know energy, and I don't think it's merely a friendship that went sour. If Piper wasn't out when they were together—or even isn't out now—that could have led to their relationship falling apart, and it could be what this card is referring to now.

Julia wouldn't be with someone who couldn't be with her all the way.

That's what she wanted for us. All those nights holding each other close, dancing at the cliff's edge until finally we toppled over. I told her I was ready, and I knew what she thought that meant.

It's a lot harder in the bright sun.

Being out means being truly seen.

I don't wait for Piper to fill in the blanks about her transformation. I flip the final card, my breath stuck in my throat.

Three of Cups, reversed. Another three.

"By nature the threes in tarot represent turning points. Those action moments when the querent can harness the energy of the cards for the progress of their journey."

This three is full of celebration, but in reverse it can mean that the querent isn't finding enjoyment in being in the moment; they need the reminder to be present, to be grateful. My few interactions with pinched-asshole Piper have already shown me that joy isn't a high priority.

"I'm hoping to reconnect with someone," Piper says, her focus fixed on my ghost of a smile.

"Three of Cups reversed is more of a find joy in the moment message." I pause, watching her expression shutter. Not what she was hoping to hear. "You may be fixating on something serious, when really you should be playing the field."

"Slut it up, baby!" Coco cheers. Natalie steps up to snap a photo of the spread and then eyes the result in her phone.

"Jesus, Piper, you look like you're about to shit your pants." I swear Natalie almost smirks, as if this look on Piper's face pleases her for some reason.

Piper ignores them both, leaning forward and tapping the Three of Cups card. "Dating around isn't my thing." She pushes the card away, as if she can dismiss the prompt through distance.

"Buzzkill," Jenni growls. She pops a gummy I can only assume is pot-infused into her mouth.

"I don't like to waste time." Piper stares me down.

"Enjoying your life isn't a waste." I don't flinch.

"I'll enjoy it when I have all the pieces back in order."

The door to the yurt smacks closed. A quick glance around the room reveals Julia has left the building, and I don't need a tarot card to tell me why. Piper wants her back. This chance reconnection in the desert is kismet, exactly the forced proximity opportunity she needs. There's heat and hurt between them, just like us.

Just like us. The words ping around in my brain, uninvited and way too honest.

Piper shoves up from the table. "Thanks." But it sounds more like fuck you .

There's no way to reframe this reading into something she wants to hear. No please recommend me to your friends and relatives . Definitely not a five-star review. She's on a mission, and she wanted confirmation, not criticism.

Right now, her Fool's Journey is one of singular focus. Her happy ending impossible to acquire without Julia beside her. Which is fine—absolutely great. Good for them. I wish them all the best, happiness, oodles of luck, tarot spreads full of blissful omens.

I do. Really!

Fuck.

I yank the cards up from the table, my thoughts drowning out Freya Dan's food and libation instructions. It shouldn't matter to me what Julia decides to do about Piper. It shouldn't matter to me that Piper thinks she has a claim on her heart, when I had it first. Both of us clearly screwed that up—neither one of us has the right to assume she'd want us back.

Stop this right now! This is not happening!

I'm getting out of control. The off-the-charts, annoying spinning sensation in my gut is just a freak-out in response to all this stress. Just me cataloging old questions the events of this week in my life have dredged up. Just a classic Kit Larson moment of hyper self-awareness and an overflow of feels.

Julia isn't mine to claim dibs on. No matter what the OG tarot reading promised.

I hope she's happy. Really.

I do.