Page 9 of Choosing Stella

“It’s cardboard, Antonio.”

“So you say.”

“You paid me to tell you the cards matter, and now I’m arguing that one is cardboard. This booking has taken a strange turn.”

“Humor me.”

I studied him.

He was healthy, smug, and entirely too entertained by the possibility that the cards were warning him about something real.

“Overnight,” I said. “I want it back.”

“Agreed.”

I slid The Tower toward him.

He picked it up and studied the ruined stone structure, the falling figures, the bolt splitting the sky.

“Betrayal from inside.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“You think I should be worried.”

“I think you should pay attention.”

Antonio set the card beside his glass.

“I always do.”

I packed the rest of the deck.

My head still ached, though the nausea had eased. I tucked the cards into their cloth wrap and returned them to my bag.

Antonio stood.

“You’re leaving early.”

“Our booking is almost over.”

“I could extend it.”

“You could request an extension through The Network.”

“You’d say yes.”

“I might.”

“That sounds suspiciously like no.”

“It sounds exactly like maybe.”

He smiled, retrieved the heel I’d left by the bar, and handed it to me.

I slipped it on, then crossed the carpet for the second one and put that on too.

“Good night, Antonio.”