I leaned forward. “What’s your name?” She still held my hand, her fingers poised above my palm.
“Ella.” She refocused on her work. “And yours?”
“Tanner,” I said, my voice a rumble in my chest. She was affecting me a lot more than she should.
“Well, Tanner, you look to have some big events coming up for you. Best of luck to you and your new lady friend.” She pulled out a pack of tarot cards and shuffled them. “Cut the deck,” she ordered me.
The dragon in me preened at her bossy nature and I shushed it down. I did as she bade and her fingers brushed mine as she picked up the deck and shuffled again. With nimble fingers, she spread the cards out again. “Pick five,” she said, “and lay them in front of you.”
Again, I did as she asked.
Ella tapped each card, closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she began to turn each card over. Silence fell as she studied each of them.
“Oh, you little dog, you,” she murmured under her breath. “There is another lady on your mind,” she accused. Ella clucked her tongue. “I am not so good a fortune teller that I can tell you which one to choose, but I will say I didn’t think this other lady had come into your life yet.” She shrugged, a delicate movement that let the loose sweater she wore expose even more of her shoulders. “But I could be wrong. It’s a full moon after all and weird shit happens during those.” Ella peered down at the cards. “You have a crossroads coming up for you,” she murmured. “One way will get you all your desire. The other may well end in ruin.” Ella snorted. “I realize how dire that sounds, but I figured you weren’t the kind of man who wants me to bandy about words.”
I nodded. “I’m not.”
With a snap, she gathered up all the cards in her hands and tucked them into her pack. “Then hear me well. Take lightly the advice of people claiming to be your friends and follow your heart, for it will never steer you wrong.”
“That sounds overly uplifting. In direct contrast to your acerbic personality.”
Ella snorted and began to deftly pack her belongings. “That’s an awfully big word you’re throwing down this evening. Is there a Flowers for Algernon situation going on here? Will this wear off in the morning?” She laughed, a light and bright sound. “Ah, who gives a shit? I’m off the clock.” She wiggled her fingers at me with one hand and with the other, she snapped her briefcase closed. I’d never known a tarot reader to carry a briefcase. Odd.
She stood and gave me a graceful little bow. “I’m afraid I am off the clock now. May your hopes and dreams come true, Tanner.”
Without waiting for me to say anything, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and hair and walked away. I sat there for a moment blinking in surprise, wrapped up in my desire and lust for this woman. It was only when I stood a few minutes later and reached down for my wallet that I realized it was gone.
I couldn’t even be mad. I’d been thoroughly grifted by the Snow White doppelganger, but I couldn’t help but think she was the real deal.
Apparently being the real deal wasn’t enough to pay her rent, though. I stood, a smile tugging my lips, and left her booth, but something made me jerk my head up. Warm golden light spilled from me and trailed from my fingertips. A dozen or so feet away, the light ended, dancing in motes of magic under the moonlight.
It was the way Ella had gone.
My mate had just stolen my wallet.
I laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all the way back to Beastly.
3
Ella
I dumped out the briefcase full of wallets I’d gathered during my two-hour stint in the French Quarter. Twelve in all. Not too shabby for the amount of time I had to spend reading palms and cards. One of the wallets caught my eye. The last one I’d stolen. It wasn’t much to look at. A small, brown leather bifold. Not too thick, not too thin. It was in good shape and when I opened it, he had the absolute minimum inside.
A Louisiana driver’s license, a fishing license, a stack of twenties and … a library card. I stared down at the card in some consternation. The enormous muscular man read? Books? I snorted as I pulled the cash out and tossed the wallet aside.
At the end of the night, I’d scored over three hundred bucks from the lifted wallets and five hundred from readings. My lips curled in a smile, though a pang of guilt hit me in the solar plexus. I was better than this. Or I used to be. Before I'd lost everything. I used to have a husband. A family. A job I went to each day. When Greg cheated on me and left me for the other woman, he'd also fired me. Quickly I learned a horrible lesson about having all of my eggs in one basket. The same night, I'd been evicted from my home. His home, to hear him tell it. Because he paid for it.
So I'd taken what money I'd saved over the years (which wasn't much) and rented an old dingy apartment in an area of New Orleans where I was afraid to walk at night. Crime didn't discriminate in the area I was. If you were alone, the chances were high you'd get robbed. Or worse. I learned to disguise myself pretty well. I toned down my curves, pulled my hair up and adopted a posture to make the casual looker think I was a male. In this day and age, sometimes what dangled or didn't between your legs decided whether or not you'd be harassed. It was a sad world, but one I'd been forced to deal with.
I'd signed the divorce papers two weeks ago and was still waiting for my settlement money to come in. At least I had that going for me. Greg couldn't deny he had a mistress and our prenuptial agreement forced him to fork over quite a bit of dough. It also forced him to pay my legal fees. Thank goodness I'd found a lawyer willing to take me on for no payment up front. He was a friend of my mother's and I played on his sense of guilt over her death, but I had no shame over it. I was about to be homeless at the time, so I would have done just about anything to fight for what was rightfully mine.
I gave him the house because I didn't want it. He could deal with that monstrosity. But the process took a long time and for eighteen long and drawn out months, I'd been coming sporadically to the French Quarter to read cards and pickpocket. What I hadn't counted on was a genuine talent.
To be honest, it scared me. I wasn't the kind of woman who ever believed in all the woo woo bullshit being hawked on after hours television commercials. I'd never visited a psychic, had my cards read, or soaked in a salt bath to remove negative energy. I was a straight up brunette WASP, married to a handsome, successful man, steeped in old tradition and social niceties. Looking back, that sonofabitch Greg had done me a favor because I hated every second I had to sit across from some blonde woman spouting about how her neighborhood was going "downhill" because someone's child had left a tricycle in the yard or some other tired mom had bought store bought cupcakes for their kid's PTA bake sale.
Granted, I missed the money aspect of it. Big time. I never realized how easy I'd had it before I'd been dumped out on my ass. But I also never realized how much I despised it. Greg. The Stepford wives of our old neighborhood. The judgmental looks when I didn't wear the right shoes or when I tried to start a bookclub that started with margaritas instead of good wine. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous.