I sat on an empty bench nearby, took my tarot cards from my bag. I had so many questions that I found it hard to narrow them down. Why hadn’t my mother called for me yet? What was going on with Des? What had happened to them, Peaches and Victoria and Julie Zale? What could I do to help them? I asked. And what do I need to do to help myself?

The first card—the past—was the Two of Cups. Partnership. In a reading, it could stand for a romantic partnership or even a business partnership. None of the men I had been with deserved that word, partner. Des always called us partners, though it had been a long time since she had carried any of the weight. But still, if I thought about it, being with Des could be a little bit of a thrill. Back when I was a kid, some of her cons felt more like a game. Like the time when our water was shut off because she didn’t pay the bill. We didn’t fight about it, didn’t worry. Instead, Des led me to the Hilton, and we snatched little bottles of shampoo from the maid’s carts and snuck into the empty rooms to use their showers. Breaking in was easy—all it took was a credit card, or even a firm piece of paper, a quick slide to force the lock. But the Two of Cups was my first card; it meant that partnership was behind me. Whatever I faced from here on out, I faced alone.

The second card was the Four of Pentacles. It showed a sad man slumped over his fortune, his city in the distance behind him. This card usually meant you were too focused on money, gave it too much importance in your life. Sometimes, it could be interpreted more loosely: you were too fixated on control. I wasn’t sure how to read the card—the visions, the missing women, men using me—it had been so long since I felt like I was in control. If money wasn’t that important, it meant that getting free wasn’t important. I understood why the man in the picture clutched his coins close. The card seemed to imply that he’d lost his home, his relationships, because he cared too much about riches. But maybe he was like me—he wanted to see that town recede behind him. The money, like the stash under my bed, was the only thing keeping him from lapsing back into his old life, into being someone he didn’t want to be.