“How’d you and Danny start working together?”

He’s a dog with a bone. I consider then decide to go with the truth. “One night Danny came home with a deck of used tarot cards and a battered paperback on how to read them. He thought it’d be a great way for him to make some fast cash.” A memory leaps forward and I’m back in the dingy apartment we once shared . . .

—

We sit on the cracked concrete floor and spread out ornate black and gold cards. I toss Danny the paperback. “Read out a description of each one and I’ll organize the cards?”

Cheeks red, Danny hands the book back. “You read. I’ll set them up.”

“Danny?”

He looks away, says, “I can read. I just need a little time to flip the letters.”

“My friend Holly has dyslexia. A teacher in third grade helped her figure it out.”

“There were forty kids in my third grade class. My teacher just tried to survive.” Danny finally meets my gaze. “You probably think it’s stupid, me wanting to be an actor, but Tom Cruise has the same thing and it didn’t stop him.”

I hold out the half-empty wine bottle I swiped from the restaurant and Danny takes a gulp, passes it back. “You’re better looking than Tom Cruise with loads more charisma.”

Dimples flashing, Danny says, “You do know I like guys, right?”

I give his hand a squeeze then open the book and start to read. “There are twenty cards that represent a big journey or message. Want to just use those?”

“Simplify. I like it.” Danny separates the cards while I go through a short explanation of each and their dual meanings.

“What’s that one mean again?” Danny asks, pointing to the first card—The Devil.

Without consulting the book, I can tell him, “Upright, means attachment or addiction. Reversed, releasing limited beliefs.”

“How do you remember this stuff so easily?”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

“In English?”

“I can recall most everything I read, like a photograph in my brain.”

“That’s a freaking superpower!” He sweeps the cards up and shuffles. “My superpower is that I can improvise.” He pulls three cards, pretends to be deep in thought. “Sylvie, you have an artist’s soul, a painter’s vision, and a heart of gold. The cards say that you’ve broken with your country girl roots to follow a different path . . .”

“As a shitty waitress who gets pathetic tips and has no future,” I half joke.

Danny suddenly gets serious. “Don’t worry, Syl, I’ve got your back. Always. We’ll get out of this dump together . . .”

—

“Lost in the past?” Thomas prods.

“Danny and I had some good times.” He was kind when I desperately needed a friend.

“I thought you were just acquaintances.”

I ignore the barb and gently massage Chris’s bony hips. “Danny practiced tarot for a week, then chose Haight-Ashbury to set up shop. It’s a lively part of the city—singers busking, funky shops that sell everything from weed to trendy clothes, and great restaurants that draw from the more affluent neighborhoods in the city. He convinced Gigi to let him work in front of her store.”