I handed him the cards and asked him to shuffle. “Now, what would you like to know about today?”
“I’m a local artist and I’d rather like to know the future of my career,” he said, handing the cards back to me. I couldn’t place his accent but something about the way he spoke his sentences made him seem foreign—well, in any case, it didn’t sound like he was from Colorado. Then again, Boulder seemed to draw artists from everywhere.
I cleared my throat again and squared the deck against the table. “We’re going to do a career spread, then. Let’s take a look.”
As was now my routine in conducting a reading, I was silent for a moment, letting the patterns and numbers of the cards weave together to tell me their tale. Each card had so many layers of meaning, I needed to let my mind land on the appropriate interpretation. He had drawn one Major Arcana card, The Moon, and Major Arcana cards require additional consideration.
I tapped the first card and began. “Well, Gavin the Artist, the good news is that you got off to a good start in your career. This Three of Wands tells us that the first stages are complete and a success—you’ve gotten your ducks in a row, so to speak.”
Gavin nodded but didn’t speak.
“This second card,” I continued, “Represents an idea that will help your career, and in this case, it means hard work and craftsmanship. So basically, you have the necessary talent and creativity, but maybe you’ve lost the drive to plug away at it. Changing this would change your outcome, for sure.”
“The third card shows what is hindering your career, and I get the feeling that this card is overpowering the others. The Moon in this third position shows that you’ve been distracted from your career and that you’re experiencing bewilderment or confusion or mystery about something that is coming between you and your work as an artist.”
“Confusion and mystery,” Gavin said flatly, motioning for me to continue.
“In the final position, we see the likely outcome of your career based on the current trends.” I paused, trying to pick the right words. “Now remember, you are the one who has the most control over your future. This is only what is likely to happen. It isn’t, like, required to happen. You do have the ability to influence it.” I said.
“Well with that sort of disclaimer,” Gavin said, “It doesn’t sound like you’re going to relay particularly positive news.”
“I could make something up,” I shot back, “But would you rather hear a sparkly lie or a dull truth?”
“Bring on the dull truth, tarot girl,” he replied. His accent was British, I decided, but a bit of something else, too, a casual sort of elegance.
“Ok, so this outcome card, the Two of Swords, shows that you’re not going to have any big success any time soon. It’s like you’re at a stalemate until you resolve this issue here,” I said, pointing at the card for The Moon. “Whatever it is that’s distracting you, you need to get it out of your life. We should do another spread to figure out more about it.”
“No,” Gavin said abruptly, “I don’t want to hear more about that. I know what it is and it’s not something I can so easily eliminate.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s really screwing up your career, big time.”
“That’s quite alright,” he said. “Let’s do a reading on, let’s see, my health.”
“I don’t do health readings. If you’re worried about your body, you need a doctor, not a chick with a deck of cards.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Let me think for a moment.” He looked around the room, taking it in. “So how did you get into tarot? Were other people in your family readers?”
“Yes,” I replied, “My grandma was, and my dad, too. So I guess you could say it’s in my blood.”
I gathered his cards from the table and shuffled them back into the deck as he thought about his next question. As I leaned back, I crossed my legs and caught the purple tablecloth on my knee, pulling the cloth off the small table and sending my tarot box clattering to the floor.
“Sorry,” I said as I bent down to pick everything up, “I really need to get a better setup in here. Like get a different table and get some pictures on the wall or something to make it look more tarot-y.”
“More tarot-y. Right. What about a mural?” Gavin asked.
“A mural?”
“You know, a large decorative scene painted directly upon the wall,” he explained. Was he joking, or did he think I was that clueless? His face gave nothing away.
“I know what a mural is, I’m not stupid. I was just wondering why I’d want one,” I said.
“Well you could decide on the pictures and it would make your room more, how did you put it, ‘tarot-y’ for your readings.” He was doing the annoying quirked-in smile thing again.
“Maybe I will,” I said. My Queen of England voice had, thankfully disappeared. “That actually sounds pretty cool.”
“And lucky for you, tarot girl, you already know a talented muralist,” Gavin said, holding up his hands and gesturing at himself.
“Did I just get manipulated into offering you a job?”
“You make it sound bad when you put it that way. But seriously, I do think it would look fantastic in here. Better ambiance and er, mystique, than the floral prints.”
“Watch yourself,” I warned, “I don’t want my grandma’s floral pictures insulted. But ok, you’re hired. Bring on the mural action.”
Chapter 14. Guild.
THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY, AS AGREED, GAVIN ARRIVED at the house to paint. I had decided that I wanted a fantasy-themed mural covering all four walls. The background was going to be a light lavender color, and there would be muted elegant drawings of unicorns and mermaids, owls and centaurs and trees.
He was rolling the first coat of primer across the wall when Angie came bursting in. I was in the other room and heard her introduce herself and begin to pepper him with questions. I went to the front room to join them.
“Gavin,” I said, “I see you’ve now met my friend Angie. Angie, Gavin is an artist who is painting a mural in the room so it has a better feeling for tarot readings.”
“Yeah he was just telling me about that,” she replied, “It sounds fascinating.”
I shot her a quick look. Oh no, she was going into full-on flirt mode. Angie could distract any man, and I didn’t want Gavin distracted. I wanted my paint job to move along quickly.
“Well Gavin, I’m sure you don’t want to be interrupted, so we’ll be out back if you need anything.” Gavin looked at me silently; I couldn’t interpret his expression, but he had the almost-smile again. I grabbed Angie’s arm and led her to the patio table in the back yard.
“Mmmm,” Angie said as she took a seat under the shade of the umbrella, “Does Matt know about this?”
“About what?”
“About that sexy man you’ve got stashed in there, doing your bidding,” she said.
“He’s not ‘doing my bidding.’ He’s just a guy I hired to paint. He’s very…professional.”
“Professionally hot. You should accidentally forget to turn on your air conditioning. Maybe he’d get too warm and need to take off his shirt. Or maybe you could just ask him to,” Angie said.
“Angie!”
“Well if you’re not interested, I hope you don’t mind if I get to know him a little better. I’ll see if that voice tastes as good as it sounds,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“Let him finish his painting first,” I replied, “But other than that, I don’t care if you go after him.”
No sooner were the words out of my mouth, than I felt a twinge of…what? Jealousy? Regret? I shook off the feeling. What did I care who my painter dated? I already had a great boyfriend.
THROUGHOUT THE WEEK, GAVIN WORKED on the intricate art as I read cards for clients in the kitchen. Between querents I would occasionally wander out to chat with him, asking him questions about what he was doing or what other sorts of painting he’d done.
“Why do you think it is,” Ga
vin asked me late one morning as he was sketching on the wall, “That mermaids are generally depicted as ladies and centaurs as men?”
“Probably because people don’t find women with bodies like horses to be super appealing,” I said.
“And a scaly fish body is?”
“Good point,” I replied, “I don’t know why, then. Personally I’d pick being a centaur over a mermaid any day.”
“Really? Why is that?” he asked.
“Less chance of being netted, ground up, glopped with mayo and accidentally turned into a tuna sandwich.”
“You’re morbid,” he replied and turned back to his work, but not before I noticed he was smiling.
A quick knock sounded at the front door. “Come in,” I shouted.
“Hey babe,” Matt said, crossing from the foyer to the living room, “I was hoping you’d be home, I—“
He was interrupted by the sight of Gavin. Gavin wiped his hand on a rag and crossed the room.
“You must be Matt.,” he said as he extended his hand, “I’m Gavin. The one responsible for the half-decorated room here.”
“Yeah, I’m Matt. Her boyfriend,” Matt said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall with a grim face. He looked me and nearly scowled.
“Lucy, are you free for lunch, or do you have other plans?” he asked.
“Let’s roll,” I said, grabbing my keys and the new bag Missy had given me, which was gorgeous but looked mismatched with my shabby cut-off shorts and cartoon tee. I should probably give the bag to my mom, I reflected as we walked outside.
“So what is your problem?” I asked Matt as I hopped in his truck.
“I don’t have a problem,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah, you were super polite back there. You practically curtseyed. You were the picture of manners.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me about the painter guy,” he sulked.
“You knew my room was being painted. You saw it yourself when you came over the other night.”
“Yeah but you didn’t say it was being painted by a guy who was. . .”
“Human? Normal? Un-ugly?” I supplied.
“You can’t tell me he hasn’t hit on you, Lucy.”
“As a matter of fact, no he hasn’t. And he won’t because he’s a gentleman,” I said.
Matt said nothing and looked straight ahead at the road.
“Matt, get off it.” I placed my hand on his knee. “If I wanted to date someone else, I would. You are my boyfriend, ok?”
He didn’t say anything, but he let go of the wheel with one hand and took my hand in his, so I assumed I was forgiven for whatever suspicion he’d had. We ate pizza for lunch and then Matt dropped me off back home, as he had to leave for work.
I walked back toward my house, expecting to see Gavin where I’d left him, sketching away on my wall. But as I opened the front door and walked inside, he wasn’t in the living room. I assumed he must have gone to the restroom, so I set down my bag and headed for the basement stairs, determined to spend another hour or two cleaning up the basement.
I opened the door to the basement and was half way down the stairs when I saw Gavin. His back was to me and he was on his knees digging through the trunk I’d broken weeks before, lifting layers of bedding and looking between them.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Gavin started, and whipped around to face me.
“Lucy, you’re home…I thought you’d be out longer,” he stammered.
“Yeah, that much is obvious. So what, have you just been waiting to rip me off?”
“Let me explain,” he said, his smooth voice returning.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I yelled, “I leave you alone in my house for like, one hour, and you start snooping through my stuff and stealing things. What is it, are you hooked up with the other guy who was here?”
“I’m not stealing from you, if you’d just let me explain. And wait—someone else was here?”
“Yeah, some other weirdo. Took off when I showed up to visit a few months ago.”
“Lucy, tell me about the other man who was here, when was this?” Gavin asked as he approached me.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter, I’m calling the police,” I said. “And don’t come any closer to me.”
“Fine, call them,” Gavin said, “But know this: if someone else has been here, you’re in danger, and I’m probably the only one who can explain why.”
I didn’t know what to do. My curiosity was piqued, but what if I was being tricked? I needed to get back upstairs safely. Was Gavin dangerous? Was he bluffing or did he know something I didn’t?
“Ok, show me your hands,” I said in my best tv cop voice.
Gavin rolled his eyes and held his hands upward like a hostage.
“Now, I’m going to back up slowly and go out to the front lawn where Mrs. Nguyen will undoubtedly be looking at us through her front window. You are going to follow me and explain yourself. If I don’t like your explanation, I’m calling the cops.”
“Yes, fine, I’ll follow, as you wish” he said.
I walked upstairs and out to the front lawn, stopping in the kitchen to grab Gavin’s wallet and keys from where he’d left them on the counter. Gavin followed a few steps behind me. I looked at Gavin’s key ring in my hand and noticed that his keys were from a car rental agency. With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I wondered why a local guy would be driving a rental car.
I gestured for Gavin to sit on the lawn and I sat down as well, several feet away from him.
“Now explain,” I told him, “And make it damn good.”
Gavin was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. I waited for his answer as I ripped at some tufts of grass near my legs.
“Well, first things first, I don’t live in Colorado. And I didn’t really seek you out to ask about my painting career.”
“Why did you, then?” I asked.
“It’s complicated. I guess the best answer would be that I’m here on a wild goose chase, investigating a problem and looking for people that may or may not even exist.”
“Investigating? Are you like a detective or something?” I asked.
“No, this is a…personal investigation,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.
“Personal about me? Or personal about you?”
“Bit of both, perhaps. Look this is going to sound odd, but I’m here because I am always on the lookout for any unusual news relating to the tarot. As you’d imagine, there’s not much, but recently I found an article about you online in the course of my searches.”
“Ah, the dance incident in the Herald,” I said. As far as I knew, it was the only article that had ever been written about me. I hadn’t exactly lived a life of fame and celebrity.
“Exactly,” he replied. “I read that article and figured I’d come see for myself if you were. . .part of a larger picture.”
“I don’t know what you mean by larger picture. And if you wanted to know something about me, why not just ask?” I asked.
“Because you may or may not have told me the truth.”
I scowled at him. “I’m not the one who seems to have an honesty problem, here, Gavin. Gee, let me think—yes—I believe it was you who was doing something sneaky today.”
He ignored the jab and continued, “You aren’t the first tarot reader I’ve gone to meet, but you are the first who has true talent. Anyone can learn to read the cards, but there are very few who possess an innate talent for interpretation.”
I felt flattered, but didn’t want to let my guard down.
“Go on,” I said.
“So, once I realized you were…legitimate…I wanted to look for indication that you—well, more likely, one of your grandparents, was involved in a certain affiliation that is of interest to me.”
“The Guild,” I whispered to myself. It was real, then.
“Yes. Yes, exactly. You’ve heard of it?” he said, sounding surprised.
“Yes. Well, no, not really,” I said. “I mean, I found like a mention of a group called The Guild and I didn’t know what it was.”
“What do you mean, you found mention of the group? Where?” Gavin asked.
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Wait a sec, that’s not how this is gonna work. You explain your story first,” I said. “Starting with what The Guild is and wrapping up with why it is that you think I’m in trouble.”
Gavin sighed and ran his hands through his hair yet again. The grass was making my legs itchy and I was impatient for him to continue.
“As I told you before, I’m not from here. I was born in Savannah, Georgia, though I spent most bit of each year in the UK with my mother’s family” he said.
“My mom passed away when I was nine, so I was raised alone with my dad. We were always close, and I was also very close to his father. My grandfather, Will, was a talented tarot reader, though neither my dad nor I had any knack for it. Frankly, neither of us was very interested, either, beyond understanding the basics.
“From time to time, my grandfather told stories about a society he was part of, a group called the Divinatory Guild of Savannah. This guild was fairly clandestine and from what I gather, very wealthy. My grandfather and his friend Nathaniel were members and apparently at some point in time there were other members, but I guess they mostly had all left the group some years ago; I never knew it to be an active group. I never gave it much thought.
“Well, about a year ago, my grandfather passed away. It was a hard time. I’d graduated from SCAD—an art school in Savannah—two years before that and I’d begun to have some small success as an artist, but my grandfather’s death shook me and I was having a hard time getting back to work. I’d been traveling, mostly, but I came home for the funeral and decided to stay home for awhile and spend some time with my dad.”
Gavin leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if there was anyone else in the yard who could hear us. “So my grandfather’s friend, this Nathaniel, paid us an unusual visit one day. He asked about some Guild property that my grandfather had been holding, some historical artifact or something. Nathaniel mentioned that the artifact was valuable and was worried that there might be others—former Guild members—who would come looking for it, now that my grandfather was dead. He was distraught; apparently he’d received a threat from an anonymous former Guild member. My dad told Nathaniel he wasn’t aware of any such artifact but would let him know if he found something.”
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