TAROT HEADQUARTERS — CASE FILE 002
TUESDAY — 8:42 A.M. — THE BUILDING HAS EIGHT FLOORS TODAY
By Tuesday morning, Tarot Headquarters had mostly recovered from Monday.
The conference room had been restored to something resembling professional order. Sean’s reports had been collected. The powdered sugar had been wiped from the table. Charles had located his glasses.
Gary had replenished the beignets.
This was arguably the most important development.
Monday’s reading had been filed, discussed, overanalyzed, unnecessarily escalated and eventually archived according to several procedures nobody remembered approving.
The building had eight floors today.
It had seven yesterday.
Nobody commented on this.
Experience had demonstrated that acknowledging architectural inconsistencies only encouraged them.
The elevator still had eleven buttons.
At exactly 8:42 A.M., the Incoming Reading Display woke up.
Shhhhk.
Somewhere inside the walls, something shifted.
The IRD flickered.
Then the cards appeared.
INCOMING READING
TEN-CARD SPREAD
- NINE OF SWORDS — SEAN
- ACE OF WANDS — PHILLIP
- QUEEN OF WANDS — ROXANNE
- FOUR OF PENTACLES — ELLIOT
- FIVE OF PENTACLES — MARA
- TWO OF CUPS — JULIAN
- PAGE OF SWORDS — DYLAN
- FOUR OF SWORDS — ALICE
- PAGE OF PENTACLES — PENNY
- TEN OF CUPS — HOPE
The building gave a low rumble.
Not quite a warning.
More like a throat being cleared.
Then the summons went out.
8:48 A.M. PRELIMINARY CONCERNS
Sean arrived first.
Of course he did.
Sean, the Nine of Swords worked in Risk Management, where he specialized in identifying everything that could go wrong, organizing it by probability, cross-referencing it with several things that had gone wrong previously, and then worrying about all of them simultaneously.
He entered carrying a folder.
The folder had tabs.
Charles noticed this immediately.
“What is that?”
Sean placed it carefully on the table.
“Preliminary concerns.”
Charles looked at the cover.
PRELIMINARY CONCERNS — TEN-CARD SPREAD
“Nothing has happened yet.”
Sean pulled out a chair.
“That’s why it says preliminary.”
Charles stared at him.
Sean opened the folder.
Charles decided not to ask.
8:50 A.M. THE IDEA FACE
Phillip arrived next.
The Ace of Wands worked in Creative Initiation, which meant Phillip regarded virtually every situation as the potential beginning of something exciting.
He entered the conference room already looking inspired.
Sean noticed.
“You have the idea face.”
Phillip stopped.
“I have an idea.”
“I know.”
Sean reached for his pen.
Phillip frowned.
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“That has never prevented an idea from becoming a risk.”
Phillip sat down.
8:52 A.M. FIRE WITH EXCELLENT POSTURE
Roxanne entered.
The Queen of Wands worked in Confidence, Charisma, Creativity & Whatever Department Required This Much Hair.
She brought warmth with boundaries.
Fire with excellent posture.
Roxanne walked into a room with the effortless self-possession of someone who had never once needed to announce that she belonged there.
Phillip straightened slightly when she entered.
Roxanne noticed.
She said nothing.
She poured herself coffee instead.
8:53 A.M. — NON-DISRUPTIVE VERTICAL DISPLACEMENT
Elliot arrived approximately eighteen inches above the floor.
Elliot, the Four of Pentacles worked in Security, Control, Possession & Unresolved Attachment to Literally Everything.
Nobody knew why he levitated.
Human Resources had formally classified it as NON-DISRUPTIVE VERTICAL DISPLACEMENT, which had successfully ensured that nobody understood it any better than before.
Charles looked up.
“Floor.”
Elliot folded his hands calmly in his lap.
“I’m comfortable.”
“We discussed this.”
“We disagreed.”
Charles slowly removed his glasses.
Elliot remained eighteen inches above the floor.
Mara arrived less than a minute later.
Mara, the Five of Pentacles worked in Hardship, Exclusion, Scarcity & Apparently We’re Doing This the Hard Way.
She stopped just inside the conference room.
“Is there coffee?”
Roxanne nodded toward the pot.
“Yes.”
Mara looked at it suspiciously.
“Good coffee?”
“No.”
Mara sighed.
“That tracks.”
She poured herself a cup anyway.
8:55 A.M.– QUESTIONS NOBODY ASKED
Julian arrived next.
Julian, the Two of Cups worked in Connection, Partnership, Mutual Attraction & Whatever the Hell Is Going On Between Those Two.
Julian believed most problems could be improved by honesty, mutual understanding and actually listening to one another.
This philosophy made him unusually popular with some departments and nearly intolerable to others.
He took a seat near Roxanne.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” she said.
Dylan entered directly behind him.
Dylan, the Page of Swords worked in Curiosity, Observation, Questions & Information Nobody Specifically Asked Him to Obtain.
He made it approximately four steps into the conference room before noticing Elliot.
“Why are you floating?”
Elliot looked at him.
“I’m not.”
Dylan looked at the space between Elliot’s shoes and the floor.
“You objectively are.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Dylan.”
“What?”
“No.”
“I only asked—”
“No.”
Dylan sat down.
Sean quietly wrote something in his report.
Charles saw him.
“What are you writing?”
“Potential vertical-displacement-related distraction.”
“Cross it out.”
Sean did not cross it out.
8:56 A.M. — STRATEGIC WITHDRAWAL
Alice arrived looking as though she had been personally betrayed by the concept of morning.
Alice, the Four of Swords worked in Rest, Recovery, Retreat & Please Stop Fucking Talking.
Meetings violated several of her core departmental principles.
She entered carrying tea, surveyed the room and sighed.
“I already regret coming.”
“You were summoned,” Charles said.
“I regret that too.”
Alice sat down and immediately rested her forehead against one hand.
8:57 A.M. TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY
Penny entered carrying a folder.
Sean looked at the folder.
Penny looked at Sean’s folder.
There was a moment of immediate professional recognition.
Penny was the Page of Pentacles, from New Beginnings, Practical Opportunities, Learning, Preparation & Taking Something Seriously Before It Became a Problem.
Sean straightened.
Penny straightened.
Charles looked between them.
“No.”
Neither had spoken.
Sean frowned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Penny took the seat beside him.
Charles watched both of them carefully.
8:58 A.M.HOPE DOES NOT REPORT
Rocco leaned precariously backward in his chair, balancing on two legs with the casual confidence of a man completely unaware of the implications of gravity.
Charles counted.
Then counted again.
Nine.
He looked at the IRD.
Ten cards.
He looked around the table.
Nine employees.
Charles frowned.
“Where’s Hope?”
The room quieted.
Hope was the Ten of Cups.
Hope, the Ten of Cups, the Emotional Fulfillment, Harmony, Happiness & Suspiciously Healthy Relationships.
Her chair was empty.
Sean immediately opened his folder.
Charles pointed at him.
“No.”
Sean stopped.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to start an incident report.”
Sean looked down at the blank form already in front of him.
“It seemed prudent.”
“It has been one minute.”
“Technically, we don’t know how long she’s been missing.”
“She isn’t missing.”
Roxanne leaned back in her chair.
“She’s probably on her way.”
Sean looked at her.
“Based on what?”
“Basic human optimism.”
Sean frowned.
“I don’t use that methodology.”
Alice spoke without lifting her head.
“Can we give her five minutes before Risk Management declares her dead?”
“I wasn’t going to declare her dead.”
Sean paused.
“I do have several possible scenarios.”
Alice closed her eyes.
“Of course you do.”
Penny opened her folder.
“I checked the elevator.”
Charles looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because there are eleven buttons and only eight floors.”
Nobody said anything.
Penny looked around.
“It seemed relevant.”
It did.
Unfortunately.
Julian folded his hands on the table.
“Has anyone called her?”
That stopped everyone.
Charles looked toward Dylan.
Dylan was already reaching for his phone.
“No interrogations,” Charles said.
Dylan looked offended.
“I know how to ask a normal question.”
Charles stared at him.
Dylan lowered the phone slightly.
“I do.”
9:04 A.M. UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL
The conference-room doors opened.
Rocco walked in.
He was not in the spread.
This had not prevented him from attending meetings before and appeared unlikely to begin preventing him now.
The Knight of Wands worked in Action, Adventure, Impulse & Doing Things Before Anyone Had Specifically Authorized Them.
Technically, this was not an official department.
Rocco had made the sign himself.
“Morning.”
Charles looked at him.
“Rocco.”
“Chuck.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
Rocco looked around the room.
“Who’s dead?”
Sean immediately opened his folder.
Charles slapped one hand down on top of it.
“Nobody.”
Sean slowly removed his hand.
Rocco looked disappointed.
“Milo said somebody disappeared.”
“Yeah.”
“He also once announced a building-wide emergency because the copier ran out of paper.”
“That was serious.”
“No one has disappeared.”
Dylan raised his hand.
“Hope isn’t here.”
Rocco pointed at him.
“So somebody disappeared.”
Charles looked at Dylan.
Dylan lowered his hand.
Rocco pulled out an empty chair and sat down.
Charles stared at him.
“You are not in this spread.”
“I know.”
“You are not in this meeting.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you sitting down?”
Rocco settled into the chair.
“Feels like I should be here.”
Charles removed his glasses.
Across the table, Elliot drifted slightly higher.
Charles noticed.
“Elliot.”
Elliot descended approximately one inch.
Rocco watched him.
“Why even bother?”
“Principle,” Elliot said.
Rocco nodded respectfully.
“I respect that.”
Charles put his glasses back on.
Phillip leaned forward.
“Maybe Hope never got the summons.”
Penny shook her head.
“Impossible. I checked delivery confirmation.”
Alice lifted her head just enough to look at Penny.
“I like you.”
Penny smiled.
Julian looked toward Hope’s empty chair.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to come.”
Sean flipped several pages.
“I have that under subsection C.”
Charles stared at him.
“You already have a subsection C?”
“Voluntary absence.”
Mara took a sip of bad coffee.
“Maybe Hope quit.”
Everyone looked at her.
Mara shrugged.
“What? People quit.”
Rocco nodded.
“She has a point.”
Charles looked toward Dylan.
“Go find out when someone last saw Hope.”
Dylan stood immediately.
“No interrogations,” Charles added.
Dylan stopped.
“I know.”
“You asked Gary where he was between two and four yesterday.”
“He was being evasive.”
“He was making beignets.”
“That’s what he said.”
Charles pointed toward the door.
“Go.”
Dylan left.
9:11 A.M. EMERGENCY RESPONSE PROTOCOL
Nothing had been established.
Sean had identified eleven possible scenarios.
Phillip had suggested forming a search party.
Penny had divided the building into zones.
Julian had suggested everyone remain calm.
Mara had suggested calm was how people got surprised.
Alice had lowered her forehead all the way to the table.
Elliot was now approximately twenty-one inches above the floor.
And Rocco was eating something he had found in his pocket.
Charles decided not to ask what it was.
The conference-room door opened.
Gary entered carrying a tray of fresh beignets.
Nobody had called him.
Gary, the Ten of Swords worked in Endings, Collapse, Exhaustion & Well, That Couldn’t Have Gone Worse.
For reasons no one—including Gary—could adequately explain, he worked in the Kitchen.
He set the tray down.
“Emergency Carbohydrate Response Protocol.”
Rocco immediately reached for one.
“Thanks, G.”
Gary froze.
“Don’t.”
Rocco took the beignet.
“Got it, G.”
Gary stared at him.
Rocco bit into the beignet.
Powdered sugar landed on his shirt.
Gary looked toward the empty chair.
“Where’s Hope?”
“That,” Charles said, “is what we are attempting to determine.”
Gary looked around the room.
“Did anybody check downstairs?”
Silence.
Charles looked at him.
“There is no downstairs.”
Gary frowned.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Charles waited.
Gary shrugged.
“Just felt right.”
Sean immediately wrote something down.
Charles saw him.
“Sean.”
Sean kept writing.
Rocco licked powdered sugar from his thumb.
“You know who we should call?”
Charles didn’t look at him.
“No.”
“You don’t even know who I was going to say.”
“The answer is still no.”
“Major Arcana.”
Charles looked up.
“No.”
Rocco leaned back.
“Why not?”
“Because this does not require Major Arcana.”
“You don’t know that.”
“We are missing one employee from a meeting.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not an existential crisis.”
“Could be.”
“It isn’t.”
Rocco shrugged.
“Walter would know.”
Charles frowned.
“Walter?”
“The Tower.”
Sean’s pen stopped.
Charles stared at Rocco.
“No.”
Rocco grinned.
“Walter’s actually pretty chill.”
Gary looked at him.
“The Tower is not chill.”
“You don’t know Walter.”
“I know what The Tower means.”
Rocco leaned precariously backward in his chair, balancing on two legs with the casual confidence of a man completely unaware of the implications of gravity.
“I went drinking with Mort and Walter once.”
Charles looked at him over the top of his glasses.
“Who?”
Rocco pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes.
“Mort and Walter.”
Charles continued staring.
Rocco sighed.
“Death and Tower.”
Sean’s pen stopped halfway across the page.
Roxanne slowly lowered her coffee.
Gary, who had been brushing powdered sugar from the front of his shirt, looked up.
Charles blinked once.
“You went drinking with Death and The Tower?”
“Yeah,” Rocco said.
“Socially?” Charles asked.
Rocco frowned.
“What other kind of drinking is there?”
Charles opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Some questions did not deserve follow-up questions.
Rocco rocked another inch backward.
“Walter’s actually pretty chill.”
Sean straightened in his chair.
“The Tower.”
“Walter,” Rocco corrected.
“The Tower,” Sean said carefully, “is literally responsible for sudden upheaval, catastrophic change and structural collapse.”
“That’s his job.”
Rocco scoffed and shook his head.
“That’s your problem. You guys take work way too seriously. You look at somebody’s department and decide that’s who they are. You never stop to look past all that and see the person underneath.”
The room went strangely quiet.
Rocco glanced around the table.
“What?”
Roxanne studied him over the rim of her coffee.
“That was unexpectedly insightful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m still processing it.”
Rocco shrugged.
“Walter’s a good dude.”
Gary plucked another speck of powdered sugar from his sleeve.
“And Death?”
Rocco grinned.
“Mort? Fucking hilarious.”
Gary snorted.
“Death isn’t funny.”
“You only say that because Mort thinks you’re dramatic,” Rocco said.
Gary stopped brushing his shirt.
Slowly, he looked up.
“I am the Ten of Swords.”
Rocco pointed at him.
“You take things too seriously, G.”
Gary went completely still.
“My name is Gary.”
“I know.”
“Then call me Gary.”
“Okay, G.”
Gary shot to his feet.
“MY NAME IS GARY!”
A tiny cloud of powdered sugar lifted from the front of his shirt.
Sean’s pen stopped.
Alice opened both eyes.
Elliot drifted several inches higher.
Charles slowly removed his glasses.
Rocco watched Gary for a moment.
Then he smiled.
“Thanks for proving my point.”
Gary stared at him.
His hand moved toward one of his swords.
Charles didn’t even turn his head.
“No.”
Gary’s hand stopped.
Rocco grinned.
“See? Dramatic.”
“I have ten swords,” Gary said.
“Also proving my point.”
Charles sighed.
“Rocco.”
“What?”
“Stop helping.”
Rocco leaned precariously backward again.
“I’m not sure that’s possible.”
Roxanne took another sip of coffee.
“What kind of bar does The Tower like?”
Rocco turned toward her.
“Nice place, actually. Old building downtown. Brick walls. Exposed beams. One of those places where they put rosemary on french fries and suddenly they’re fourteen dollars.”
Roxanne raised an eyebrow.
“Truffle aioli?”
Rocco pointed at her.
“Exactly.”
She nodded.
“Of course.”
Charles leaned back in his chair.
He already regretted this conversation.
“So we’re drinking, eating the fourteen-dollar fries, and Walter keeps staring at the ceiling,” Rocco continued.
Sean picked his pen back up.
“What was he looking at?”
“No idea.”
Rocco tilted his head back, demonstrating.
“Finally Walter looks at this beam over the bar and says, ‘That shouldn’t be doing that.’”
Sean frowned.
“What shouldn’t?”
“The beam.”
Rocco shrugged.
“Then the ceiling came down.”
Sean’s pen slipped from his fingers.
“The ceiling came down?”
“Part of it.”
Sean stared at him.
“While you were drinking with The Tower.”
“Yeah.”
“And what did Walter do?”
Rocco looked confused by the question.
“Suggested another place.”
There was silence around the table.
Roxanne slowly set down her coffee.
“That was his reaction?”
“Pretty much.”
Rocco shrugged.
“Bartender was screaming, sprinklers were going off, everybody was running outside. Walter brushed some plaster off his jacket and said he knew another place two blocks over.”
Gary stared at him.
“And you went?”
“What else were we supposed to do?”
Charles removed his glasses.
“Perhaps acknowledge the collapsed building.”
“It was being handled.”
“By whom?”
“Fire department, eventually.”
Charles put his glasses back on.
“Continue.”
“So we walk into the second place,” Rocco said.
A smile spread across his face.
“And there’s this absolutely gorgeous woman sitting alone at the bar.”
Roxanne sighed.
“Of course there is.”
“Seriously. Beautiful.”
Rocco gestured vaguely around his face.
“Great hair. Great dress. Legs—”
“Rocco,” Charles warned.
“Fine. Attractive woman.”
Alice took a slow drink of tea.
“Remarkable restraint.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Alice said.
“Still counts.”
Rocco leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“So obviously I go over.”
“Obviously,” Alice murmured.
“I sit down next to her, say hello. She turns toward me—”
Rocco paused.
“—and she’s crying.”
Julian winced.
Roxanne closed her eyes.
Rocco spread his hands.
“How was I supposed to see that from behind?”
“Did you leave?” Charles asked.
“No. I got Mort.”
Charles stared at him.
“You called Death over to comfort a crying woman.”
“I didn’t call him. He was six feet away.”
“That distinction is not helping you.”
“She was having an emotional situation. That’s Mort’s territory.”
Gary frowned.
“That is absolutely not how that works.”
“Worked great,” Rocco said.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“So I’m trying to get Mort’s attention. Finally he looks over at me, and I just mouth—”
Rocco silently exaggerated the words for the conference room.
She’s crying.
“Mort gets up, brings his Manhattan with him, walks over to the bar and sits down on the other side of her.”
Rocco paused.
“Smooth as fuck.”
Charles sighed.
“Please continue.”
At the bar, Mort set his Manhattan down and looked at the woman.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
She wiped beneath one eye.
“No.”
Mort pulled out the stool beside her.
“May I?”
She looked at him, then at Rocco, then back at Mort.
“Sure.”
Mort sat down.
“What happened?”
The woman stared into her drink.
“My marriage is over.”
Mort rested one forearm against the bar.
“How long?”
“Twenty-three years.”
Mort nodded once.
“That’s a long time.”
She gave a bitter little laugh.
“Apparently not long enough.”
Mort picked up his Manhattan.
“Or too long.”
For a second, the woman simply stared at him.
Then a laugh escaped her.
It seemed to surprise her as much as anyone.
She covered her mouth and shook her head.
“Jesus.”
Back in the conference room, Rocco pointed toward Gary.
“See? Funny.”
Gary frowned.
“That’s three words.”
“Exactly.”
Rocco grinned.
“That’s Mort. Timing.”
Charles gestured impatiently.
“Continue.”
Rocco leaned forward again.
“So now she’s laughing, which is already a significant improvement.”
Roxanne lifted her coffee.
“Does the woman have a name?”
Rocco looked at her.
“Rebecca.”
“You left that part out.”
“I was getting there.”
“You were not.”
Rocco ignored her.
“Anyway. Rebecca.”
At the bar, Rebecca wiped beneath one eye, still smiling.
Mort calmly took another drink of his Manhattan.
She studied him for a moment.
“I’m Rebecca, by the way.”
“Mort.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose.
“Mort?”
“Yes.”
“Is that short for something?”
“Mortimer.”
Rebecca laughed again.
“Of course it is.”
Mort tilted his head slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just—Mortimer. Tonight. My marriage ending. You sitting down next to me talking about whether twenty-three years was too long.”
Mort considered that.
“Your timing couldn’t be better.”
Rebecca blinked.
Then looked at him differently.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a smile at the corner of her mouth now.
“Are you hitting on me?”
Mort paused with his Manhattan halfway to his mouth.
“No.”
Rebecca laughed.
Mort lowered the glass.
“I meant the timing of the ending.”
That made her laugh harder.
Rocco watched Mort from the other side of her, increasingly impressed.
“You are so fucking good at this.”
Mort looked past Rebecca at him.
“At what?”
Rocco shook his head.
“Nothing. Keep going.”
Rebecca looked between them.
“You two are very strange.”
“Thank you,” Rocco said.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Still counts.”
Mort ignored him.
Rebecca turned back toward Mort.
“What exactly do you mean, the timing of the ending?”
Mort rested his glass on the bar.
“Endings rarely arrive when people want them to.”
Rebecca’s smile faded slightly.
Mort continued.
“They arrive when whatever existed before them can no longer continue in the same form.”
Rebecca stared at him.
Rocco stared at him too.
Mort took another sip.
Rebecca finally said, “And you’re telling me my timing is good?”
“I’m telling you that if something has already ended, recognizing it now is better than recognizing it later.”
Rebecca looked down at her wedding ring.
“That might be the strangest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
Mort frowned.
“I’m not trying to pick you up.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“I think that’s why it’s working.”
Rocco’s eyebrows shot up.
Mort looked genuinely puzzled.
Back in the conference room, Rocco slapped the table.
“See?”
Roxanne laughed.
“Oh my God.”
“I’m telling you,” Rocco said. “Mort is fucking brilliant.”
Gary shook his head.
“He wasn’t trying to be.”
“That’s what makes it brilliant, G.”
Gary’s jaw tightened.
Charles immediately lifted one finger.
“No.”
Gary settled back into his chair.
Rocco grinned and returned to the story.
At the bar, Rebecca took another sip of her drink.
“So what do you do, Mortimer?”
Rocco went completely still.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Mort noticed.
“Don’t.”
Rocco lifted both hands.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I swear to God, I’m not.”
Rebecca looked between them.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Mort said.
Rocco picked up his drink and pressed it against his mouth, clearly determined not to interfere.
Rebecca waited.
Mort finally answered.
“I work in Transformation, Endings and Transition.”
Rebecca blinked.
Rocco’s shoulders began to shake.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Mort took another sip of his Manhattan.
“Mostly I help people recognize when something has ended so they can stop trying to make it continue.”
Rebecca stared at him.
Then she started laughing all over again.
“Of course you do.”
Mort frowned slightly.
“Why ‘of course’?”
“Your name is Mortimer.”
“Yes.”
“You work in endings.”
“Yes.”
“And you just happen to sit down next to a woman whose twenty-three-year marriage ended tonight.”
Mort considered the circumstances.
“I don’t choose the assignments.”
Rebecca lost it.
She bent forward over the bar, laughing into one hand.
Rocco watched Mort with open admiration.
The man was magnificent.
And Rocco was becoming increasingly convinced that Death knew exactly what he was doing.
Rocco leaned back in his chair in the conference room.
“Anyway, Rebecca thinks Mort has some weird corporate job.”
Roxanne smiled.
“What did she think Transformation, Endings and Transition actually did?”
“No idea.”
Rocco shrugged.
“Consulting, probably.”
Then he grinned.
“Doesn’t matter. She liked him. Which was good, because about thirty seconds later the Fool walked in.”
Charles immediately raised one hand.
“No.”
Rocco stopped.
“What?”
Charles stared at him across the table.
“Death is sitting in a bar when the Fool walks in.”
Rocco stared back.
For a second, nothing registered.
Then his face changed.
“Oh, shit,” Rocco said.
Roxanne covered her mouth, already trying not to laugh.
Rocco pointed across the table at Charles.
“I never thought about that.”
“It sounds exactly like the beginning of a parlor joke,” Charles said.
Rocco started laughing.
“It kind of was.”
Charles’s expression remained perfectly serious.
“That concerns me.”
“No, seriously,” Rocco said, wiping beneath one eye. “It gets better.”
“I was afraid of that,” Charles replied.
Rocco leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table.
“Finn walks in wearing one shoe.”
Alice lifted her head.
“Finn?”
“The Fool,” Rocco said.
That required considerably less explanation inside Tarot Headquarters than it would have anywhere else.
Finn worked in Beginnings, Spontaneity, Faith & Leaping Before Looking. He approached most of existence with the unwavering belief that things would probably work out, and when they didn’t, he generally considered the resulting catastrophe part of the experience.
Alice frowned.
“One shoe?”
Rocco held up a finger.
“One.”
“Where was the other one?”
“No fucking idea.”
“Did Finn know?”
“Apparently not.”
Rocco grinned.
“Mort sees him coming and just goes—”
Rocco dropped his voice, his expression flattening into a remarkably accurate imitation of Death.
“‘No.’”
At the bar, Finn stopped.
“What?”
Mort pointed toward the door.
“No.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Yet.”
Finn considered this.
“Fair.”
Then he spotted Rocco and came over anyway.
Rebecca looked down as he approached.
“You’re missing a shoe.”
Finn stopped.
He looked at his feet.
One shoe.
One sock.
“Huh.”
Mort stared at him.
“Where is it?”
Finn thought for a moment.
“Oh. Probably the other bar.”
Rocco lowered his drink.
“What other bar?”
“The place I was at a little while ago. Old building. World-class rosemary fries.”
Rocco went completely still.
Finn continued.
“Ceiling collapsed. I got caught in some of the rubble trying to get out. Must’ve lost my shoe then.”
Silence.
Mort slowly lowered his Manhattan.
Rocco stared at Finn.
Rebecca looked from Finn to Mort.
Then to Rocco.
Rocco’s mouth twitched.
Rebecca noticed.
“What?”
Rocco shook his head.
“Nothing.”
That was a mistake.
Rebecca looked at Mort.
Mort had gone very still.
“What?” she asked again.
Rocco broke first.
A laugh escaped him.
Mort looked down at his Manhattan, but the faintest movement appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Rebecca stared at both of them.
“What the hell is so funny?”
Rocco pointed helplessly at Finn.
“Walter.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Who’s Walter?”
“The guy I was drinking with at the first bar.”
“The one who noticed the ceiling?”
“Yeah.”
Rocco was already losing the ability to speak normally.
“Walter works in Sudden Change, Revelation and Structural Failure.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“What kind of company do you people work for?”
Rocco waved that away.
“Not important.”
“It feels increasingly important.”
“Walter’s The Tower.”
Rebecca blinked.
“The what?”
“The Tower.”
Mort closed his eyes.
Rocco pointed at Finn.
“And this is Finn.”
Finn gave Rebecca a small wave.
“Hi.”
“He’s The Fool.”
Finn’s expression changed.
“That sounds unnecessarily judgmental.”
“It’s your title.”
“I still think we could workshop it.”
Rebecca looked from Finn to Rocco.
Then toward Mort.
“And Mort?”
Rocco grinned.
“Death.”
Rebecca stared at Mort.
Mort calmly lifted his Manhattan.
“Technically.”
There was a long silence.
Rebecca looked at Finn’s sock.
Then at Rocco.
Then at Mort.
Then back at Finn.
Understanding arrived.
“Oh my God.”
Rocco was already laughing.
Rebecca pointed at Finn’s missing shoe.
“The Tower knocked the Fool out of his shoe?”
Rocco slapped the bar.
“YES.”
Rebecca lost it.
She doubled over, laughing so hard she had to grab the edge of the bar.
Finn looked around at all three of them, completely baffled.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
That only made Rebecca laugh harder.
Finn looked down at his sock.
“I got hit by part of a building.”
Rocco wiped his eyes.
“I know.”
“That’s generally considered bad.”
“I know.”
“You people are assholes.”
Rebecca covered her face, laughing.
Finn pulled out the empty stool.
“I’m glad my hardship has brought everyone so much joy.”
He sat down.
Mort raised his Manhattan slightly.
“You survived.”
Finn considered that.
“True.”
Rocco lifted his glass.
“And you found out where your shoe is.”
Finn looked at him.
“No. I found out where my shoe isn’t.”
Rocco started laughing again.
And somehow, according to Rocco, that was the point where the entire night changed.
“So now there are four of us,” Rocco told the conference room, “and somehow we just keep drinking.”
Sean looked up.
“How much?”
Rocco thought.
“A lot.”
Sean reached for his pen.
“Define a lot.”
“No,” Rocco said.
Sean reluctantly lowered the pen.
“Rebecca starts telling us about the divorce. Finn starts asking questions. Mort starts giving advice. I’m ordering shots.”
Charles looked at him.
“Of course you were.”
“It was getting depressing.”
“And alcohol was your intervention?” Charles asked.
“It worked.”
Rocco brushed a streak of powdered sugar from his knee.
“About an hour later, Rebecca’s laughing so hard she’s crying again, except now in a good way. Finn’s telling us he once got on a train because he liked the color. Mort’s explaining why that isn’t a reason to get on a train.”
At the bar, Finn shrugged.
“It got me there.”
Mort looked at him.
“That does not make it a reason.”
“It makes it a reason.”
Rebecca nearly fell off her stool laughing.
Rocco smiled at the memory.
“Then Finn asks Rebecca what she’s going to do now that she’s getting divorced.”
At the bar, Rebecca stared into her drink.
“I don’t know.”
Finn nodded.
“Good.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Good?”
“Means you can do anything.”
Mort glanced sideways at Finn.
Finn caught it immediately.
“You did the face.”
Mort looked back at his drink.
“I did nothing.”
“You did the face where you think I accidentally made sense.”
“I have no such face.”
“You absolutely do.”
Rebecca laughed.
Rocco raised his glass.
“To Rebecca doing anything.”
Finn immediately lifted his.
“To anything.”
Rebecca raised hers.
Mort looked at the three glasses waiting for him.
He sighed.
Then raised his Manhattan.
“To something.”
Rocco grinned across the conference-room table.
“See? Mort’s fucking hilarious.”
Gary stared at him.
“That wasn’t a joke.”
Rocco pointed at him.
“Timing, G. It’s everything.”
Gary’s eyes narrowed.
Rocco immediately pointed again.
“Don’t.”
Gary looked offended.
“You’re telling me don’t?”
“I’m telling you not to prove my point again.”
Gary inhaled.
Charles lifted one finger.
“Gary.”
Gary exhaled through his nose.
Rocco smiled.
“Growth.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Continue.”
“After that,” Rocco said, “things got a little fuzzy.”
Charles opened his eyes again.
“A little?”
“There may have been tequila.”
Sean looked up.
“There was tequila.”
Rocco frowned.
“You weren’t there.”
“I know there was tequila.”
Rocco considered that.
“There was tequila.”
Alice rested her chin in one hand.
“What happened to Walter?”
Rocco stopped.
Everyone looked at him.
Rocco frowned.
“Huh.”
Charles’s expression changed.
“You lost The Tower.”
“We didn’t lose him.”
“Where was he?” Charles asked.
Rocco thought.
“Last time I saw Walter, he was outside talking to the fire department.”
Sean stared at him.
“You left The Tower at the building he collapsed.”
“Partially collapsed.”
Charles pointed at him.
“Do not.”
Rocco held up both hands.
“Anyway, at some point Mort loosened his tie, Finn was barefoot—”
Alice interrupted.
“He arrived with one shoe.”
“Exactly.”
“What happened to the remaining shoe?”
“No idea.”
“And Rebecca?” Roxanne asked.
“Having the time of her life.”
Rocco smiled.
“She’d gone from crying into her drink to telling us about this trip to Greece she’d wanted to take for fifteen years, but her husband hated flying.”
Julian smiled.
“What did Mort tell her?”
“Go to Greece.”
Gary looked at him.
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
Rocco scratched his jaw.
“Actually, I think he said, ‘He doesn’t have to go anymore.’”
The room went quiet for a beat.
Roxanne smiled.
“That’s actually good.”
“I know.”
Rocco pointed toward Gary.
“Funny.”
Gary shook his head.
“That wasn’t a joke.”
“That’s what Mort always says.”
Rocco continued.
“By closing time, Rebecca had decided she was going to Greece, Finn had lost both shoes, and I had somehow acquired a bartender’s apron.”
Charles stared at him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where was Mort?”
“Helping Rebecca make a list of places she wanted to go.”
Julian nodded approvingly.
Rocco thought for another second.
“Oh, and Finn was trying to convince the bartender to come with us.”
“Where?” Charles asked.
Rocco shrugged.
“Nobody knew.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
“So eventually the bartender brings the check,” Rocco continued.
He spread his hands.
“It’s enormous.”
Sean looked alarmed.
“How enormous?”
Rocco pointed at him.
“Sean.”
“What?”
“No.”
Sean pressed his lips together.
“Anyway, I reach for it. Mort reaches for it.”
Rocco paused.
“Rebecca beats both of us.”
Roxanne smiled.
“She paid?”
“The whole fucking thing.”
Gary looked surprised.
“Why?”
Rocco grinned.
“I asked her the same thing.”
At the bar, Rebecca slid her card into the check presenter.
Rocco reached for it.
“Rebecca, absolutely not.”
She slapped his hand away.
“Sit down.”
Rocco sat down.
Mort watched her.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“I know.”
Finn, now completely barefoot, leaned across the bar.
“That’s why she should.”
Mort turned toward him.
Finn smiled.
“The face.”
Mort sighed.
Rebecca laughed.
Then she looked around the table.
At Rocco.
At Finn.
At Mort.
At the empty glasses, abandoned lime wedges, crumpled cocktail napkins and the wedding ring she had finally taken off and tucked safely into her purse.
“I came in here thinking my life was over.”
For once, Rocco didn’t interrupt.
Rebecca smiled.
“Turns out I just had a really shitty night.”
Mort raised one eyebrow.
Rebecca glanced toward the door.
“And now I’m going to Greece.”
Finn lifted an empty shot glass.
“To Greece.”
Rocco grabbed his own.
“To Greece.”
Mort looked at both of them.
Then at Rebecca.
Finally, Death lifted his Manhattan.
“To Greece.”
Back in the conference room, Rocco went quiet.
Just for a moment.
Then the grin returned.
“Great fucking night.”
Nobody spoke.
Gary brushed another patch of powdered sugar from his shirt.
Finally, he looked at Rocco.
“So let me understand this.”
Rocco gestured for him to continue.
“You went drinking with The Tower.”
“Walter.”
Gary ignored him.
“The first bar collapsed.”
“Partially.”
“You left The Tower at the scene.”
“He was talking to the fire department.”
“You went to another bar, tried to pick up a crying woman, called Death over to help, the Fool wandered in missing the shoe he lost escaping the first bar, everyone got drunk, the Fool somehow lost his remaining shoe, and the crying woman paid for all of you.”
Rocco considered Gary’s summary.
“Yeah.”
Gary stared at him.
Rocco smiled.
“Told you Mort was funny.”
Charles slowly removed his glasses.
Before he could respond, the IRD chirped.
Everyone stopped.
Charles’s glasses remained suspended halfway between his face and the table.
Sean slowly turned toward the display.
“That was new.”
Nobody disagreed.
The IRD had buzzed.
It had clicked.
It had flashed.
Once, during an unusually complicated reading involving three court cards and a particularly unstable Seven of Cups, it had made a sound several employees later described as electrical screaming.
It had never chirped.
The screen flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went completely black.
Alice lifted her head from her hand.
Elliot stopped drifting.
Rocco’s chair finally came down onto all four legs.
A line of white text appeared.
SYSTEM ERROR
Sean was already reaching for his notebook.
Another line appeared.
READING INTEGRITY FAILURE
Penny stood.
Charles put his glasses back on.
The screen flickered again.
EXPECTED CARD COUNT: 10
CARDS PRESENT: 9
Nobody moved.
Then the final line appeared.
MISSING CARD IDENTIFIED
There was a pause.
TEN OF CUPS
And beneath it:
HOPE
The room went completely silent.
Rocco stared at the screen.
The grin disappeared from his face.
Gary stopped brushing powdered sugar from his shirt.
Then the conference-room doors flew open.
Dylan stood in the doorway, slightly out of breath.
“I checked everywhere.”
Charles turned toward him.
“And?”
Dylan looked at the IRD.
Then back at Charles.
“Nobody’s seen Hope.”
Elliot’s shoes touched the floor.
That got everyone’s attention.
Even Elliot looked down.
For perhaps the first time anyone could remember, the Four of Pentacles had landed without being asked.
Then somewhere deep beneath Tarot Headquarters came a sound.
Shhhhhhk.
Not from the walls.
Not from the ceiling.
From below.
Gary immediately picked up the tray of beignets.
Rocco looked toward the floor.
“That came from downstairs.”
Charles turned toward him.
“There is no downstairs.”
Penny was already reaching for her folder.
“There is no basement listed in the building directory.”
Another sound rolled beneath their feet.
Shhhhhhk.
The IRD flickered.
New words appeared.
LOCATION: UNRESOLVED
Sean stood.
The next line appeared.
ESCALATION REQUIRED
Rocco’s eyes widened.
Then:
MAJOR ARCANA NOTIFIED
Nobody spoke.
Rocco slowly turned toward Charles.
The grin came back.
“Oh, this is fucking fantastic.”
Somewhere beneath Tarot Headquarters, something moved.
Hope was missing. The Major Arcana were coming. And somehow, Rocco was still the only person in the room who had never been invited.
Episode content coming soon.