“Oh, we have to do that,” Hope says, shooting up.
“Um, I think I’ve had enough magic for one evening. Let’s go upstairs and watch the cruise ambassadors seduce their clients instead.”
She grabs my hand. “No way you’re getting out of this. Come on.”
She pulls me up and drags me out of the room.
We go down the stairs to the cigar bar, which is choked with the smell of smoke. (Despite being someone who smoked cigarettes for years and is currently addicted to nicotine gum, I can’t stand cigar smoke.)
“Ugh, I can scarcely breathe in here,” I complain. “Can Ipleasebe excused?”
“Afraid not. Look, there she is.”
She points to a horseshoe-shaped booth where a woman with a cloud of witchy gray hair is seated before an array of large crystals.
Hope charges toward her.
“Madame Olenska?” she asks.
“That is me, my dear. And who might you be?”
“Shouldn’t she know that already?” I say under my breath.
Hope kicks my shoe.
“I’m Hope,” she says. “And this is Felix. We were hoping you could read our cards.”
“It would be my pleasure,” she says. “Have a seat.”
We settle into the booth across from her.
“Who would like to go first?”
“He would,” Hope says with an evil grin.
“Ah, the skeptic,” she says.
“Sorry, is it that obvious?” I ask.
“I can sense you don’t trust the divine,” Madame Olenska says.
“I just don’t like magic tricks.”
She raises her brows at me imperiously. “The cards are not magic, or a trick. The cards merely reflect what’s inside you, apparent or not.”
“Good to know.”
“You will see. Do you have a question you would like me to focus on? An issue of concern?”
“Uh, no,” I say. “Not really.”
“You are new lovers,” she says, apropos of nothing.
“We are,” Hope says. She gives me a triumphant look like,see?
“We will focus then on matters of the heart,” Madame Olenska says authoritatively.
“Great,” I mutter.
