It's not a nice bar by any standards, but the lady hogging the bartender's attention doesn't seem to be understanding that. She's leaned against the counter, talking about domestic reds in a voice that demands bystander's attention, but isn't garnering any of it. California has gems, but local wines are underrated, she says. You can feel the ball of your foot digging into the bone, your heels extremely un-padded in the sole.
"I can't believe how long this is taking," the man next to you remarks. It takes you a second to realize he's talking to you. His hands are jammed into the front pockets of his jeans and he rocks back and forth on his feet impatiently, but with a smile that's pleasantly good-natured.
"Well-" you find yourself flustered. He's cute, much too cute to be chatting you up. The dark of his eye glitters under the lowlight. His hair is black and coiffed, pushed back in the stupidly effortless way that nearly makes you want to roll your eyes. "The bartender is, like, 75."
"No, she is-- wow, she really is." He cranes on to his toes to see her and scoffs a laugh. "We may never get a drink. People have literally started playing cards in line."
Sure enough, there's a spread of multicolored cards on the standing table next to you, with a long-haired man monologuing over it. The other man at the table is nodding earnestly, enthralled.
"That's tarot. It's divination, fortune-telling stuff," you explain. "Every card means something."
"Wild," he says. "I'm John, by the way."
You introduce yourself and feel the conversation start to fizzle out at the crowd gets closer to the bar top.
"Hey." You barely move your hand away from your side to point. The rest of the gold edged deck sits on the seat right by his hip, in between other unsecured valuables. "Do you think they'd notice if you took a card?"
The stranger tilts his head back to laugh. It extends through his whole body, curving his spine and bending his knees. "Not if you're stealthy enough."
"No, I mean, would they sense the energy is off or-?" You gesture as you try to explain yourself. "Is there a sixth sense when it comes to tarot card decks? Or do they know the exact weight?"
John slides a bit to the left and palms a card in one fluid movement. Before you can panic, he moves back and his shoulder finds yours, forcing you to shuffle sideways and away from the scene of the crime. A laugh escapes you, despite the growing alarm you feel.
"I didn't actually want to do it!" you gasp. "Are you cursed now? Is that how tarot works?"
"You mean 'are WE cursed now?'" John flips two gold trimmed cards between his fingers. "Because I took two."
"Double curse," you whisper and that drives him to belly laugh, nearly keeling over and into another patron. It takes a long while to gather himself; tears are flitting the corners of his eyes when he manages to speak again.
"Okay, ready?" He flips the first card. "Two cups."
He gasps suddenly, eyes going wide. "Do you know what that means? We're gonna get those drinks!"
That makes you laugh. The man behind you pushes to the front, but you don't mind waiting a bit longer this time.
"Oh, and a fancy guy," John says as he flips the other stolen item to its face.
"It says the fool." You jam your finger to the word. "Whoa, do you know what that means? You're a fool for stealing cards."
"Do you know what they mean together?" His eyes go wide and wild again. "A fool is going to buy you a drink."
