The Gypsy Ribbon. Shannon MacLeod

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СКАЧАТЬ want to give it to him without asking you first.”

      Disappointed? The sudden blood rush roared in her ears and Beth was certain she had not heard Lily correctly. “I’m sorry. He wants my number? For what?”

      “What else would he want it for? He wants to ask you out,” Lily whispered impatiently. “Can I give it to him?”

      Beth sighed. “He’s not interested in me, Lily. I’m not even close to his type. I’ve seen the girls he’s been photographed with and they’re all like supermodels or something.”

      Lily gave an unladylike snort. “Do you hear yourself? More importantly, are you hearing me? He wants your number. May I give it to him?” She waited for the response and added quietly, “Maybe he wants to hang out with somebody real for a change.” She paused. “He really liked you.”

      Beth mumbled, “I don’t know what to do. I liked him too, I thought he was really nice, you know, and funny…”

      “Soooo… C’mon, he’s giving me the sad puppy face here,” Lily groaned.

      “Fine,” Beth rolled her eyes. “Give it to him. Between you and me, though, I’m not expecting anything to come out of it, so I’m not even going to start getting my hopes up.” Changing the subject, she said, “Who is the King of Cups?” but remembered as soon as the words were spoken aloud. “Duh–forget I asked that. Just…give James my number, okay?”

      “Thank you,” Lily sang, “Talk to you tomorrow!”

      After the call ended, Beth studied the cards she had drawn again, this time with more understanding. Lily had always been the Queen of Cups, and when Ian came into the picture, the cards had presented him fittingly as her King, their respective signs being Cancer and Scorpio.

      “King of Cups…what does Ian have to do with this? The question was what does James want, and the answer was Ian. Maybe Ian has something James doesn’t have.” She scooped her cards up and shuffled again, thinking about the next question.

      “What does Ian have that James wants?” She fanned the deck across the tabletop, closed her eyes and selected a card. As she pulled it out, another came out with it and fluttered to the floor. She laid the first card down and turned it over. The Ten of Cups, the card of lasting happiness, joy and contentment, happy family. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. Ian was happy and James wanted to be too. Made perfect sense. She picked up the card that popped out of the deck, and dropped it again as if she had been burned. The Queen of Wands. Her card.

      Beth sat and stared at the Queen for a long moment then mechanically put all the cards away. I’m done thinking about this, she decided, nothing’s going to come of it. Been there, did that, bought the shirt, thank you very much. She thought back to a time when she lived and breathed for the moment that Victor Tarucci the third–a.k.a. Shithead or He Whose Name Cannot Be Mentioned–would ask her out. An up and coming financial planner with a nearby bank, he dropped in for lunch several times a week at the sports bar where she waited tables, usually with other suit-clad professionals. He chatted her up quite a bit, finally–she thought–working up the nerve to ask her out. Handsome, witty, charming. Everything she thought she was looking for in a knight in shining armor, come to rescue her from a life of sore feet and going home at night smelling like french fries.

      After their casual dinner, he drove her back to his apartment on the pretense of getting his ID to go out to a local nightclub. Beth never saw him coming. He was all over her the moment his door closed. She put him off, telling him that she thought they should get to know each other better before falling madly into bed. With a cool smile, he apologized and assured her he understood, but took her home anyway with the promise to call her again really soon.

      The next day while at Walmart picking out a birthday card for Lily’s mother, Beth’s cell phone rang. She snatched it out of her back jeans pocket. “Hello?” There was no response, but she heard noise in the background. She tried again. “Is anyone there?” She listened for a moment and heard a man’s muffled voice.

      “Jesus, Tarucci. Watch the speed bumps. I almost spilled my beer,” the man complained.

      Victor laughed. “Then drink faster,” he said, “or you’re paying to get my interior cleaned.”

      “Victor?” Beth said loudly. “Can you hear me? Victor, it’s Beth. Hello?”

      She was about to hang up when the second man spoke again. “So you went out with that red-haired waitress from the Finish Line last night. She’s got great tits. Are they real?” He laughed.

      “Who the fuck knows?” Victor retorted. “She wouldn’t give it up.”

      “No way.” The other man gasped. “Not even a blow job?”

      “Hell no.” Victor laughed. “I had to buy her dinner and didn’t get shit for it. I’m not making that mistake twice. She’s a waitress, for chrissakes. I like my pussy with a higher personal standard of achievement, if you know what I mean.” Both men barked with coarse laughter.

      Beth felt sick, the bile rising up in her throat choking her. The card so carefully picked out fell forgotten to the floor. Turning off the phone, she ran for the exit with hot tears of shame burning her eyes.

      “He just wasn’t that much fun close up, it was better to admire him from afar,” she told Lily later, not wanting to admit the truth. Not wanting anyone to know the truth.

      Beth had a secret.

      Back when she and Lily were in grade school, they had both gotten silver abstinence rings, promising to wait until they were truly in love before they had sex. Beth had stopped wearing hers because the sports bar patrons reacted to the ring like a bull with a red flag–a challenge too great to be ignored. Numerous offers of assistance ridding her of her pesky virginity were made, but she turned them all down. Although she never came right out and asked, Lily assumed Beth had already done the deed when the ring went noticeably missing. Beth hadn’t disabused her friend of that notion.

      Not that I wouldn’t know how if I wanted to, she thought. Very well read on the subject of sex, she could cite such unimpeachable sources as her favorite romance novels and the magazines in the checkout line. In spite of not having any practical experience, she knew she’d be good in bed. Cheered by her potential prowess, she wove her hair into a loose braid and slipped into an oversized sleep shirt that read Don’t Make Me Call the Flying Monkeys. With a wide yawn, she headed for bed and sweet dreams she hoped wouldn’t feature smiling Irish eyes.

      * * * *

      With a broad smile, Lily turned to James. “She said I can give it to you. Give me your phone.”

      James handed it over obediently. While she entered in Beth’s contact information he asked, “What’s she like? I mean, really like.”

      “We’ve been best friends for yea–”

      James sat back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We just met this evening, but I have to tell you I think I would have been able to pick her out of a screaming crowd. She’s got something. It’s hard to describe, exactly.” He glanced around for his drink, and unable to locate it waved at the waitress to bring him another. “She is quite the beauty, but I don’t think she thinks she is. She’s funny too. Talks non-stop. I love that. She has a running narrative going all the time.”

      “She СКАЧАТЬ