Emmy set her card down, and Lucy pulled out the other two so they sat in a row of three. First, a card that was right-side up, with an image of two people leaning toward each other over a tall, round table. From the looks of it, it was a high-top table at a bar. They had drinks in front of them, and they were smiling in a way that said very plainly they were into each other. The middle card showed five condoms. The ones in the corners were unrolled and pointing toward the fifth, a packet in the center. The number 5 was upside down. The last card was an intricately braided belt with a padlock instead of a buckle.
“Getting Lucky,” Lucy said, tapping the first card. “Big change is coming, Emmy. That much is clear. Then we have the Five of Condoms, reversed. You’re going to end up in a situation that seems awful and overwhelming. You’ll hate it, but eventually you’ll come to understand that it’s the best thing that could have ever happened to you. It will be healthy for you to come to this realization.” Lucy smiled as she tapped a fingernail on the locked belt. “The Chastity Belt, reversed. Makes sense. You’re going to be free of a heavy weight, metaphorically of course. Some burden or demon that has been latched onto you will be banishedfor good. From the looks of things, these two cards are qualifying the first. You’ll have to go through something seemingly terrible, but when you learn to accept it, you will simultaneously be able to free yourself of something that’s been holding you back.” Lucy smiled, all warmth and encouragement. “The end result? Big life change. That’s not so bad, huh?”
Emmy stared at the cards, still finding it difficult to reach for the humor she wanted. It should be so easy to laugh this off. One of the cards was covered in condoms, for God’s sake. Plus, it had all been super vague. Any person could be told they had a big life change coming. That was the point of psychic readings. Say something that could apply to almost anybody, then let the person decide how their life fits that prediction. But the first two cards, the ones about her past and present, still hit too close for comfort.
“I don’t think you’re interested in doing a sexual strength reading or finding out what kind of man your soulmate is going to be,” Lucy said gently.
Silently, Emmy shook her head. She stood up, backed away from the table. “You could have said anything. No matter what card came up, you could have found a way to say something that sounded like it applied to me. That’s what cold reading is.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Lucy stood and put her hands in the pockets of her flowy dress. “The cards have set meanings, so all I have to do is recite one or two of those meanings, make it sound like I’m applying it to you. It’s a pretty easy con.”
“But you don’t ask for money for it.”
“Not the first time.”
“How much does it cost the second time?” Emmy asked, wondering if May had already been back, if she’d already spent an arm and a leg to figure out what her and Victor’s children would look like.
“Twenty-five bucks per question.”
“If you’re the genuine article, why did you set up shop? Why try to capitalize on your special gifts?”
“Because I can’t buy a carton of eggs with energy readings alone.”
Emmy shook her head, refusing to believe it. Any of it. “You have psychic powers specifically linked to sex, but you don’t go public with it? Get on TV? Do talk shows? Write a book?”
“I never said my powers were linked to sex.”
Emmy gestured frustratedly all around them. She was getting increasingly agitated with each passing moment, and she had no idea why. Maybe it was because Lucy was looking at her with that vaguely pitying expression again. Whatever the reason, there was a restlessness living under her skin now that hadn’t been there before she’d entered the shop.
“My powers are linked to strong feelings,” Lucy clarified, accurately interpreting Emmy’s gesture. “I don’t like the idea of making my living by reading people who feel extreme hatred or depression, though, and I don’t think you can blame me for that. Those kinds of emotions can weigh on you. If you’re not careful, you start to lose track of which ones belong to other people, and you start to take on all that negativity as if it’s your own. So… sex. Love and lust. Romance. Arousal. They’re happy things, wouldn’t you say? I like being a part of other people’s happiness.”
It all made so much sense. Too much sense. Emmy kept looking for the cracks in the arguments, the truth behind the facade. But there was nothing there. If this woman was a con artist, she was working a very long game, nickel-and-diming her marks twenty-five dollars at a time.
“For what it’s worth, I feel what he did to you. I don’t know the specifics, but I can feel it, and I’m sorry.”
Emmy did not want to burst into tears in front of this woman. She turned abruptly away, walked to the bookshelves, and took a few deep breaths. When she was steady again, she looked at all the brightly colored spines in front of her, ran her fingers over a few of them. The smell of books was stronger here, for obvious reasons, and it contributed a lot to the return of her equilibrium.
“Do you believe in all this?” she asked without turning around.
“All what?” Lucy asked from behind her.
“Romance. Happily ever after. Soulmates. Do you believe in all that, or are you a cynic looking to make an easy buck off of saps and hopeless romantics?”
“That’s a good question, one I’m surprised more people don’t ask.” Emmy begrudgingly respected that Lucy took a moment to think before answering. She spoke carefully as if weighing her own words for truth. “I believe in the human spirit. People who want to be happy deserve to be happy. I believe in the potential of happiness because not everyone has it. Even people who claim to be on top of the world are sometimes empty inside. So yeah, I guess I’m a hopeless romantic because I want to believe in the best possible version of everyone.”
Emmy pulled a book off the shelf at random. “Sometimes I buy these just to laugh at them.”
Lucy shrugged. “Books like that are meant to be entertaining, right? If they make you laugh, if they amuse you, then job done.”
Emmy had to admit she’d been deliberately dismissive of the genre to see how Lucy would react. She had expected a staunch defense of romance novels, and was more relieved than she wanted to admit that she hadn’t gotten one. A part of her found Lucy likable,wantedto like her. That didn’t mean she was ready to admit out loud that sometimes she bought romance novels so she could escape, just for a little while, into a world where happiness was guaranteed.
“You’ve been rereading the same three books for long enough,” Lucy said cheerily. “Treat yourself to something new to keep on your nightstand.”
Do not reply to that, Emmy counseled herself.A lot of people reread books. A lot of people keep books on their nightstand. It was a lucky guess.
“Maybe I’ll buy something utterly ridiculous so I can laugh at it.”
“As long as you choose one that speaks to you. I’m not the book police. Browse as long as you like. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
