I wave at him but keep walking. But he doesn’t take the hint and jogs to catch up.
“Thanks for the directions yesterday. Café Envie was great. Any other places I should try?”
I pause and stare at a guy who absolutely can’t take a hint. “There’s a visitor center not far from here. They can help you out.”
“Nah,” he says with a huff. “I don’t want touristy stuff. I’m a local now. I need to find the local hot spots.”
Grinding my teeth, I glance behind me. “Yep, just as I thought. I forgot my neighborhood welcome wagon. Sorry. You’re going to have to find someone else to show you around town. I’m busy.”
“What if I buy you dinner?”
I’d like to buy him a fucking clue. “I’ve got my dinner covered. Good luck.”
Then I clip along down the street, but something tells me not to go to my gate until he’s out of sight again. I don’t want this guy knocking on my door every other day, asking for restaurant recommendations, which dry cleaner to use, or if I have a preference of florists.
“Maybe I’ll run into you again next week and change your mind. Have a good one, stranger!” he calls after me.
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t want to encourage the guy. I’ve never had a thing for Wonder bread, and that’s exactly what he is.
Basic. Plain. Ordinary. No flavor. No panache.
I’ll change my mind? In your dreams, you overconfident asshole.
It pisses me off all the same that he’s just moved in around the corner. I pause and bend down like I’m shaking a rock out of my shoe, and he disappears from sight.Finally.
As I unlock my gate, I’m filled with annoyance that my new sanctuary is already tainted. First by the blood last night, and now by a guy who doesn’t understand when his attention is completely unwanted. After the amount of money I’ve sunk into this place, it’s disappointing.
Rocco is inside, working hard and singing off-key to Joan Jett.
As soon as the door shuts behind me, I debate what to do next. I could start hanging my clothes up in the closet ... but from Rocco’s belted-out notes, I can tell he’s upstairs, no doubt trying to get the master bedroom finished like I asked.
He’s almost done. Just be patient, Mags. It’s all going to come together.
The cards from my reading shuffle through my mind.Change is coming.Change that’s bigger than Rocco finishing the caulk work around the tub and knocking out the final items on the punch list.
I step back outside and drop into a patio chair from the set I had delivered last week.
You’re stronger than this, Magnolia. You can handle whatever’s coming. Have you stopped to wonder if it’syouthat’ll be coming? That big hunk of Creole muscle is still looking mighty tasty.
I jerk my head up and look around, as if trying to figure out where the hell that thought came from. Ho-It-All, clearly. Apparently, I named my contrary inner voice well, because she’s advocating for Moses now. And if he was the Devil card Celeste dealt me yesterday ... who knows what’s coming next.
Death.
It’s a card that doesn’t usually frighten me, but after the last twenty-four hours, I’m not myself. Maybe I should meet Moses tonight. Hear what he has to say. Do what Celeste suggested ...let him show me.
As I take a minute to myself, sitting in a ray of sunshine, the damn Chariot card pops back into my head too.
Make a decision. One way or the other.
I have to choose. So I do.
Without even letting Rocco know I was here, I slip out of my gate once again.
If I’m going to face Moses, I need some shiny new armor first.
* * *
“Do my eyes deceive me, or am I really seeing Magnolia Maison step into my shop?” Yve Titan, the wife of billionaire Lucas Titan, says to me as I cross the threshold of Dirty Dog, my favorite dress shop in the Quarter. In the last couple of years, she’s expanded, and her offerings have gotten even more unique and varied.