I expect my tarot to talk to me. I do not like it when they do so more directly than usual.
I was casually drawing cards while Ramose, with lifting assistance from Chris, worked on my truck in Chris’ garage. We were chatting and drinking and I wasn’t paying much attention to my deck. I suppose that’s why I didn’t notice it get away from me. Next thing I remember is looking down at a white card face with handwriting that was distressingly familiar.
Wynn, Friday 4:30 PM
No clue as to what it meant or what would be waiting for me there. I flipped the card; the back was normal. And when I turned it back over, the warrior on my five of wands stared a challenge at me. If that wasn’t disturbing enough, I later found out that Ramose had received a similar invitation – in a different manner, of course. Chris, however, had not.
I had never been to the Wynn, although I’d heard good things about their nightclub, Tryst. We called to see if we could figure out who might have reserved a meeting room, but no dice. We knew which rooms were reserved, but nothing else except that there were going to be Shriners in the ballroom. We did, however, figure it probably wasn’t them. (Although, to be fair, they could be a secret cult to Isis, for all we know. Cute little fez men.)
So, we just had to wait a week. In the meantime, I had already ditched my cocktail waitress costume for a fulltime position as an attraction at the Orleans. When I wasn’t sitting to tell fortunes, I walked around and chatted up the customers. Sometimes I went out to the street and charmed passerby into coming in. Sometimes I even meandered down to the strip in the outfit Papa left for me, top hat and all, and brought a little parade back with me. Jolene and me are getting along just fine these days. The tips alone are paying my grocery bill this month.
On Friday, the three of us showed up at the Wynn to find a funny little man waiting in the lobby. Leo ain’t one of us, but he seemed to know all about us. He didn’t want to talk much, though. He did say that Chris wasn’t welcome. Something about a choice being made that I wasn’t going to understand for a little bit yet. I tried to argue, but it ended with Chris walking off in a huff. I took a moment to feel sorry for any fool who crossed him before he calmed down. Then Leo handed Ramose and me pins, explaining that they were a way to keep in touch with the folks. Well, explain may be too strong a word. He spends a lot of energy being vague, Leo does.
Right after we got our snappy new jewelry – mine was a skull in a top hat – two fresh faces made the scene. They were introduced to us as Orlanda and Victor. Vic seemed a decent enough guy at the time. Orlanda was a godling of a different color. I’m thinking guts red. She was one creepy chick, and this is coming to you from a daughter of the god of death who keeps zombies in her closet. Then again, I was going to prove my own creep factor a little later.
Leo took us into the meeting room and said that each of our parents would be gracing the Wynn with his presence that evening. Our job, so far as he knew it, was to watch the halls for any oddities that came up, since oddities were part and parcel of the whole “gods walking the earth” package. With that, he bustled away.
Left to chat with our new friends, I discovered why Chris got booted. Vic was also Ares’ son, and it looked like he was his papa’s favorite. Orlanda kept quiet for the most part. I thought I’d prefer her talking, but after she told us who her papa was, I was happy to leave her thoughts in her head. I don’t know a lot about the Aztec gods, but that one story I’d read about Xipe Totec told me that those shivers she was giving me weren’t my imagination.
So, of course, the boys went for a walk around the floor and left me alone with her. Thankfully, that was when the ghosts started showing up. (Who’d have thought I’d ever say that?) Many of them were dressed in well-worn clothes, loose blouses and tunics over equally loose pants and skirts, colors that wished they still was bright. Almost all of them were Black in various shades. Papa’s entourage had preceded him.
(To be continued…)
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