Physical pain, well that sounds horrific.

“Okay, put the past behind me. I can do that,” I mumble. It’s a concept I really would like to adopt. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than put Danny and his debts firmly in my past. If only life were that simple.

“This next card is the Ten of Swords,” she says. I don’t need an explanation of the picture; it’s a person dead on the ground with ten swords protruding from their chest. I think I dislike this card more than the last.

“The Ten of Swords usually symbolizes a sudden and unexpected failure or tragedy, a power beyond your control crushes you without warning or mercy. I can tell you that you may be able to alter the course of this impending disaster, but most of the time you will simply have to let go and accept your fate.”

I drop my face into my hands. I shouldn’t be listening to this. It’s not constructive at all and rings scarily true to my current situation. I’m not sure if that’s the case, though. It’s the same when I read my horoscopes. I subconsciously twist what’s happening in my life to fit the words I’m reading. Maybe that’s what I’m doing now. Maybe I’m not as doomed as I feel.

“Are you okay to continue?” She looks concerned, and I’m hoping that I’m reading her wrong. The narcissist in me is screaming to let her continue, but there’s a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me think I should ask her to stop.

Suspicion wins out, and I give her a smile I in no way feel. “Please go ahead.”

“You know, this card can also indicate a time when you have been backstabbed or betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. You feel incredibly hurt and shocked by such a betrayal. The Ten of Swords is often associated with feeling the ‘victim’ in a situation. However, the saving grace is that you have a new awareness that the difficulty and pain will soon be over and will evolve into something new. As with all endings there will be a new beginning, so while this card may seem negative to you, it is really a card that can symbolize hope.”

I’m finding it difficult to focus on hope at the moment. All my energy is going toward trying to make the stupid payments that bully Carter has demanded. She’s right, though, I do feel like a victim and I hate it.

“Is the next one good news?” I ask with a small hint of optimism. Surely they can’t all be bad.

“They’re not bad news. It’s how you choose to interpret them and what you do as a consequence that is what’s really important. The last card is the Two of Swords; this card indicates to me that that you are currently being faced with a difficult decision, but you’re hiding from it. You’re hoping that if you ignore the decision long enough, it will go away on its own. However, it won’t go away by you simply willing it to. Your conscience will eventually force you into facing your problems directly.”

So it’s not good new then…great.

“Is this all supposed to make sense to me now? Because I’m not going to lie to you, Athena, I’m drawing a blank as to what this is all supposed to mean and what I should do to change my fate. Is there a timeframe for this sort of thing? Do these cards refer to something that has happened, or something that’s going to happen?” I’m aware that I sound ruffled, but I wasn’t expecting this impromptu reading, and I certainly wasn’t ready to hear that there’s seemingly more trouble ahead for me. I don’t think I’m strong enough to take much more.

“Robyn!” I turn to see Lauren waving me over from backstage. “Girl, what are you doing? You need to get changed!”

“Coming!” I stand from the table. “It was nice meeting you, Athena. I’ll try and seek you out throughout the night if it’s not too busy. I have a few more questions…if that’s okay?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says before bending to collect the cards I’d forgotten were scattered across the floor.

I make my way backstage with a swarm of butterflies dancing in my belly. Being issued the card of Death before my first night performing as a burlesquer definitely doesn’t bode well. I’ve always considered it bad fortune for someone to wish me good luck and to break a leg before a performance. Handing me a death card is infinitely worse.

IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT.

Carnival night.

The club is filled to capacity, and it’s still pretty early. The girls haven’t done their first performance yet, and I don’t often stick around after making sure everyone is present and doing what they’re supposed to. Knowing that Tweet is down here changing into one of the showgirl costumes has me planted to my seat at the bar.

Zane, Jordan, and Josh are all amped up, serving drinks in quick succession while engaging in friendly banter, their charm turned up to full capacity. There are women vying for their attention leaning up against the counter top, and the guys are reveling in it. Most of the men use our table service; they like the girls that are serving them, and it means that Zane can shamelessly flirt with their wives while they are ogling the staff. It’s a win-win.

“You want a drink, Cal?” Zane calls over the din of the room. He’s giving me a knowing smile. The one that says I know why you’re still down here. I shake my head no. The contortionist has finished his set and the twin redhead fire-eaters are making their way out to the back. Carnival night always goes down well. It’s theatrical and over the top, nothing short of dazzling. Later in the evening, Sarah will perform a solo piece dressed in her belly dancing costume and wielding a ten-foot yellow python named Monty.

I check my watch and all that’s left is for Annie to introduce the first act. Annie may be tiny, but her presence is anything but. She commands everyone’s attention the way a ringmaster would at the circus. I listen as she warms the crowd up and announces the girls on stage. I’m waiting patiently as the house lights go down; everything stills for a brief moment, the band begins the opening bars and bam! The stage floods with color as the girls file out in one long chorus line.

I notice Tweet right away, even behind all the feather fans being paraded. She’s nestled between Lauren and Rae, three girls in on the left. My eyes zero in on her like the compass of a needle, and she’s true north. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, watching and indulging in this perverse little fantasy. I can’t make myself go upstairs, though. She’s all I’ve thought about today, the way her legs felt wrapped around me on my bike. The heat of her chest pressed tightly against my back. I need to shake this new infatuation. It can’t go anywhere; I know this, so why torture myself?

“Checking up on the new girl, are we?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and take a drink from my almost empty glass.

“She mentioned you took her home earlier.” Zane wiggles his eyebrows and smirks.

“Zane, you know me better than that. I don’t mess around with the staff. I dropped her at her apartment; that’s it.”

“Whatever you say, but I don’t see you offering to take any of the other girls home.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. Mainly because I don’t have one. He’s right; I’ve never offered to take anyone home before today. I’m usually much better at not blurring the lines. I guess the thing about Robyn that’s bothering me the most is that I want to blur the lines with her. I want to smudge them so badly that they’re not even lines anymore.

I finish my drink, slam the glass hard on the bar and make my way upstairs. This is getting beyond a joke. I head straight for my bathroom and take a cold shower, praying it will shock some sense into me. When I get out, I flip on my music loud as a distraction. Once I’m dressed, I open up my Mac and begin going through the accounts. My bookkeeping skills are on par with my ability to not let my mind wander to the new brunette downstairs. I’m pretty sure they’re not balancing right, and I need to figure out why.