TarotCafeSeries_bundle

by Lynn LaFleur

“The Queen of Swords represents a woman with a strong will and business sense. She’s sharp, witty, and has a bit of a problem with sarcasm—the perfect attorney.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  “Besides knowing her own mind, she’s an idealist—which is a great combo, I might add. The Queen of Swords represents someone who plays fair and is willing and ready to fight to the death to right a wrong. Again, wonderful traits in an attorney.”

  “With a tongue mightier than a sword?”

  “On the downside,” Leandra continued, “she may be so career-minded she looks the other way when a chance for love presents itself. She has to guard against putting success and all its trappings ahead of what she knows in her heart.”

  “You’re making this up as you go along, aren’t you?” She pointed to the card that hitched itself to the first. “Shall I guess what that’s going to say? Someday my prince will come, or maybe an appointment to the Supreme Court.”

  Leandra ignored her sarcasm and turned the card.

  The Ace of Swords.

  “Goodness, I didn’t expect this.”

  “What?”

  “Are you thinking of making a career change?”

  “Me? Of course not. Why?”

  “This card usually portends a radical change in business affairs. Coupled with the Queen of Swords, this card tells me that you’ll soon face a decision about a business opportunity that will change not only the status quo, but your life long into the future.”

  “That’s nonsense, Leandra. No way I’m giving up my practice or choosing another career. Heck, I’ll be paying off my school debt for another ten years. I can’t afford to go back and start over.”

  Leandra shrugged. “I didn’t say you will make that choice, but an opportunity will present itself that might make you reconsider. Or it could be something from your past that makes the choice for you.”

  “Oh pul-leese. Isn’t that standard fortune-telling gobbledygook?” She lowered her voice and added a thick Gypsy accent. “Soon you vill face big decision about your future…or vait, maybe vill be from your past.”

  Leandra did not return her smile. She put the card down and looked into Mary Beth’s eyes. When Mary Beth looked away, Leandra continued, “The Ace of Swords is a powerful card coupled with the Queen, M.B. Don’t be too quick to brush its meaning aside.”

  “Okay, so if opportunity knocks I’ll listen carefully before saying aye or nay.”

  “Good.”

  “Now turn the next one. I have stuff to do today.”

  “This card signifies your dilemma.”

  Mary Beth chuckled at that answer. “I didn’t have a dilemma until you told me I’m changing careers.”

  The Two of Swords. A woman sitting blindfolded on a throne. With her back to the sea, she held two swords crossed over her heart.

  “That looks like Blind Justice without any scales,” Mary Beth said. “And another Sword. Don’t you have any of those other cards? You know, the Cups, Wands, and that other one I can never remember.”

  “Pentacles,” Leandra reminded her. “In a way I’m surprised, and in a way I’m not. Swords are appearing for a reason. They represent your career, your intellect, your need to control where you’re going, to place the practical over the emotional. The woman in the Two of Swords wears a blindfold, not to signify Blind Justice, but to block out distractions, to give her a chance to chill out, you might say. A chance to think with her heart and emotions as well as her intellect and more practical side.”

  “I’m very comfortable with practical, thank you very much.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you leave your comfort zone.”

  “Why? My practice is growing, business is good. Okay, I’m stubborn and smart-mouthed, but there’s no way I’m leaving law to pursue another career. And I’m not interested in knights seeking the hand of this fair maiden. Unless it’s P.J. Kendall, and I promise he won’t look at me twice if I don’t change into something scintillating.” She pointed to the remaining cards. “Obviously I have a lot of work to do, so let’s get this over with.”

  Leandra touched her fingertips to the third card. “This represents what’s clouding your judgment, what will keep you from making the right decision.” She turned the card.

  The Emperor. An older man, powerful, rich, considered royalty in the circles he traveled. Dashing, sensual, unfocused.

  Marty Trinidad.

  Mary Beth stared at the card. The color seeped from her face.

  Leandra had watched Mary Beth tense when she turned the last card. She frowned at the image of the man wearing a crown and holding a scepter. Marty definitely had a huge hand in Mary Beth’s professional success.

  Was Rico right? Did I miss something? Does Marty control her emotions as well?

  “This card represents—”

  Mary Beth waved her hand. Leandra noticed a slight tremble. “No, I don’t want to hear about him,” she said. “Forget that one. Show me the next.”

  “The next card represents what’s in your heart, M.B. It’s not a who, it’s a what. What will make M.B. Hunter live happily ever after, both personally and professionally?”

  Leandra turned the card. The Lovers.

  “Sexuality and attraction. Romantic love, a new relationship.”

  Mary Beth didn’t answer. She kept her gaze trained on the card, as if she expected it to disintegrate unless she kept watch.

  “This card is no stranger to the readings I do here at the café,” Leandra said. “We seem to draw people who are facing a crossroads.” She smiled and placed her hand over Mary Beth’s. “You’ve seen the other cards, M.B. The Swords, then the Emperor and now the Lovers. The first three acknowledged your intellect and ambition. These two are telling you to give your heart equal time, create a balance between the personal and the professional.”

  One card remained. Leandra saw tears welling in Mary Beth’s eyes.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “That. That’s supposed to be my answer, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “I know where you’re going with this, and it’s not true.”

  “The cards are talking to you through me. I’m the conduit for their message. You chose them because you had questions and needed answers.”

  In all the years Leandra had practiced the Tarot, she’d never dealt a spread that so clearly expressed what the querent sought. She’d also learned through experience when to speak and when to let silence speak for her. No matter how long M.B. took to come to terms with what she saw, and what she knew lay facedown on the table, Leandra would be there for her.

  The sun set while they sat across from each other. The room grew dim. Leandra sensed a silent storm building in Mary Beth.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Leandra kept her voice soft, soothing.

  Mary Beth shook her head. At some point, she’d pulled the scrunchie from her hair. Hanks of titian curls now shot out in little corkscrews, others brushed her cheeks in soft ringlets.

  “Can I get you anything? Water? Maybe that glass of wine?”

  Mary Beth shook her head again. Leandra eased back in her chair, steepled her fingers and waited.

  The explosion came quickly after that.

  “Turn the goddamn card!”

  The Knight of Cups.

  The Knight of Cups, someone new with whom a Queen could fall in love. A man to share an impossible dream. Sensual, sensitive, empathetic. The Sir Lancelot of the Tarot.

  “No!” Mary Beth cried. She jumped up from her chair and began pacing. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “That!” She pointed at the five cards as if they were a cauldron of boiling rats.

  “What about that?”

  “Do you know what it’s telling me?”

  “No,” Leandra fibbed. “What is it telling you?”

  “That I have feelings for Rico.” She balled her fists. “It�
�s not true. I don’t!” She paced the aisle between the entrance and the bar, then headed back to Leandra. “It’s craziness. There’s no way I… We can’t—” Then she broke into tears.

  Leandra rushed to her friend. “It’s okay, M.B., it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. We have nothing in common, except—”

  “Except what? A physical attraction?” she prodded. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “You don’t understand, Leandra.” She snatched one of the cocktail napkins off the bar and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t give a damn what the Tarot says, Rico and I wouldn’t work as a couple.”

  “Because he’s a handyman and you’re an attorney?”

  Mary Beth shook her head.

  “Because he’s not a rich entrepreneur?” She latched on to Mary Beth’s gaze. “I hope you’re not foolish enough to give your heart to someone just because he’s rich.”

  “Stop it, Lea, there are things you don’t know.”

  “I know there’s a lot more to Rico Zanini than a hog, a few tattoos and a prison record.”

  Mary Beth pulled her hand away. “Drop it.”

  “Do you think I need the Tarot to tell me there’s history between you two?” Leandra jammed her hands on her hips. “I met an angry, confused, lost man when Rico walked into the café. He’s not the same man anymore, Mary Beth. You’ve made the difference in him. You can’t just walk away.”

  “Stop it, Leandra. This is none of your business.”

  “I can’t let two people I love blow off a second chance.”

  Mary Beth headed for the door. “Do us all a favor?” she called back. “Read the cards again. You’ll see there are no second chances.”

  *

  Angry at herself and disappointed, Leandra still sat at the table in front of the fireplace staring at the cards she’d laid. One of the bartenders turned on the lights when he clocked in. Otherwise, she would have sat in darkness.

  She started at the sound of laughter. Moments later, Rico and Tom burst through the front door. They were laughing and for the first time, Leandra saw Rico’s eyes sparkled and a broad smile creased his face.

  “Looks like you two had fun today.” She met them halfway. “What’s going on?”

  “I thought I was good,” Tom answered. “This guy is phenomenal.” He thumbed in Rico’s direction. “Saved Search and Rescue five grand in about five minutes.”

  She saw Tom’s praise embarrassed Rico, but she saw pleasure in his face too.

  “What did you do?”

  Rico shrugged. “Checked out a few things under the hood. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Tom burst out laughing. “I should have arrested the sonofabitch for trying to hustle us.”

  “I don’t think he knew the engine was that trashed,” Rico said.

  “Wrong. He knew exactly what he was doing.” Tom poked Rico in the chest. “Let me tell you something else, big guy, humility doesn’t cut it around here. Not with these two.” He pointed to Leandra and then in the direction of the kitchen. “On the days you’ve got it, flaunt it. Otherwise, these women will eat you alive.”

  Leandra planted her feet. “‘These women’? What have you told our Director of Maintenance? You’d better start explaining yourself, bud.”

  Rico backed away from the couple, hands raised, palms out. “Hey, I’m getting out of here before plates start flying.”

  “Don’t let her scare you,” Tom said. “She’s mad because we had fun without her.”

  “If you think I’m taking sides, you’re nuts.”

  Tom laughed on his way to the front door. Rico waved and headed for the kitchen. Leandra stood alone, watching them go in different directions until Rico stopped and turned.

  “This may sound kind of crazy, but do you think you could show me how to, you know…” He gestured toward the dining room.

  Leandra blinked back her surprise. “Work the dining room? Rico, your day’s done at noon. Why would you want to?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I could help out on days you’re really busy.”

  “Have you had any experience in a dining room, bussing, anything like that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Let me think about this.” She walked to and fro, her chin in her hand. “How about we try this? You shadow me tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “I greet the guests, seat them, and if their server’s busy with another table, take their drink order.”

  He nodded.

  “If the bussers are falling behind, we clear plates as soon as the diners finish. But don’t rush them. We want them to enjoy their meal, not feel like we’re trying to get rid of them.”

  “Got it.”

  “We’ll go over the seating chart, but first we have to find you something to wear.” She looked at her watch. “Do you have a white dress shirt? I know you have black slacks.”

  “Shirt might be a little wrinkled.”

  “No problem. There’s at least six irons in the storage closet. Grab one on your way out.” She looked around. “Come on, let’s start at the host’s stand.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time the rest of the waitstaff, bartenders and readers had checked in, Rico stood beside Leandra at the host’s stand watching the last-minute rituals each used to prepare for the customers who’d soon line up outside the doors no matter the weather.

  Leandra and Synda decided on a black turtleneck for Rico, black trousers and his spit-shined boots. Synda thought that with his olive complexion and Mediterranean features, Rico added that touch of panache The Tarot had been missing.

  Leandra sniffed at the suggestion yet she agreed that at six-two, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, Mr. Rico Zanini improved the scenery. Even the cobra’s head seemed less menacing and one heck of a lot more sensuous than they’d expected. One of the gals who worked only dinner asked about the “new eye candy” and one of tonight’s readers made it clear she “saw” a place for Rico in her future.

  Leandra nudged him. “Fifteen minutes ‘til showtime. Nervous?”

  He fidgeted and checked the list of specials Synda had written on a sticky note against the items he’d printed on the chalkboard near the entrance. “Maybe…yeah.”

  “Good. If you weren’t, I’d be nervous.” She patted his arm. “You’ll do fine. This crew’s especially good with new folks. They’ll keep an eye on you too.”

  He started to say something when a loud banging sounded on the front door.

  “Pretend you don’t hear it,” Leandra said. Seconds later, the banging started up again, louder and more insistent. “Probably needs to use the restroom.” She rolled her eyes and headed for the door.

  Leandra barely had time to turn the deadbolt when a man in his mid-fifties, tawny-skinned, and wearing enough gold chains and diamonds to glow in the dark, hugged her and air-kissed both her cheeks. “I have to talk to you and Syn,” he said. “Now.”

  “We’re opening in a few minutes. Can’t it wait?”

  “No, it can’t. Get her right now.”

  Leandra turned to Rico. “This is Marty Trinidad. Marty, Rico Zanini.”

  Marty waved without looking at Rico. “Send him for Synda.”

  Rico’s first impression of Marty Trinidad was that he looked like someone from thirty years ago with all the gold and diamonds draped around his neck. Maybe he was trying to be impressive by flashing his wealth. To Rico, Marty looked ridiculous.

  “Hurry it up, Zanini, I need to talk to the girls.”

  Leandra did not bother to hide her exasperation. “Syn’s a little busy right now, Marty.”

  “Five minutes is all I need, five minutes.” He turned a huge smile on her. “I promise, darling, it’ll be worth your time.”

  Leandra sighed. “Rico, would you please get Synda while I open the doors?”

  Rico wouldn’t walk across a street for the pompous asshole, but he’d never deny Leandra anything. With a nod, he headed for the kitchen.
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  He looked over his shoulder before entering the kitchen. Trinidad didn’t look that bad for an old dude. He and Marty stood about the same height and without the bling, Marty probably looked pretty good to the women. Even if his teeth blazed almost as brightly as his jewelry.

  Rico didn’t want to think about Mary Beth and Marty together. He couldn’t stop his mind from going there. Acid burned in his gut. Shit, the guy probably swallowed Viagra by the shovelful.

  On the other side of the swinging doors, Synda, all five feet of her, stood with hands on hips, barking orders at a line of subordinate chefs and helpers. She wore checkered cotton pants like the rest of the staff, a white chef’s jacket, and held her hair back with a white bandana. Rich, spicy fragrances swirled in the warm air, at least ten degrees hotter than in the dining room. Shouting didn’t get her attention. Rico waved his arms until she noticed.

  “What?” she yelled over the din of two metal trays clanging against each other.

  “Leandra wants to see you.”

  “She what?”

  They each took several steps and met halfway.

  “Marty Trinidad’s here. He says he has to talk to both of you.”

  “Excuse me, but does it look like I have time to talk to Marty Trinidad?”

  Rico raised both hands. “Hey, I’m just the messenger.”

  “Then deliver the message that he can come back after ten.” She didn’t wait for an answer but picked up a knife that probably could have sliced through steel with one swipe and began annihilating an onion.

  Rico saw Marty still stood at the host’s stand, now jiggling something in his jacket pocket. Leandra had seated a party of four near the fireplace, while a man waited outside one of the reader’s alcoves.

  He shook his head no when he caught Leandra’s eye. He saw her lips moving, muttering something he couldn’t hear. She passed him on her way to the kitchen, and before he could blink, emerged with Synda in tow.

  “Rico, take over while we figure out what Marty’s up to. Good luck.”

  To his own amazement, Rico sailed through the next twenty minutes as if born to food service. Between customers, he’d glance at the corner where Synda, Leandra and Trinidad huddled. Alternately, Marty and Synda seemed to argue and then agree. Both were chopping at the air with their hands while Leandra wrote notes in a little spiral notebook she kept in her skirt pocket. Synda kept shaking her head no while Marty continued to spread his arms up and out, as if he needed to make room for his thoughts by clearing the space around him.