Free Hole in the wall by L.M. Pruitt Page A

Clover Grill.” She glanced down at her shirt, frowned. “Should I change into something else?”
    “Why, did you have something that showed more cleavage?”
    “It’s perfectly acceptable to show the girls at night.” Izzy adjusted the vee of her shirt, shifted until the aforementioned girls sat up the tiniest bit higher. “Besides, you’re wearing a black bra under a white shirt.”
    “I didn’t realize I was working tonight otherwise I would’ve done laundry yesterday.” I wrinkled my nose at the beer soaked wad of bills someone had left on the bar. “On second thought, maybe not.”
    “Just rinse them off, they’ll still spend.” She fiddled with her phone, tapped a few keys. “Hey, did you remember what tomorrow night is?”
    “Uh, August fifth?” The glare she gave me had me racking my brain. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”
    “No, you have a few more months before that blessed event. And don’t even think about giving me another gift card. You’ve got time to shop.”
    “I hate shopping.”
    “The way you drooled over the black trench coat in the second hand store, you could’ve fooled me.” Izzy shook her head, sighed. “Anyway, tomorrow’s Cayenne’s first night at work.”
    “Shit. I forgot.” Leaning back against the rail, I crossed my arms, rolled my eyes. “Do we really have to go?”
    “We promised. And I heard you, so don’t even think about trying to weasel your way out.”
    “Ugh. But the Mirror Lounge? Seedy, even by my admittedly lax standards.”
    “All strip clubs are seedy. That’s why they’re strip clubs.” Izzy dug some money out of her pocket, slid bills over the counter. “By the way, she said to tip her if no one else does.”
    “Right. Like she has to worry about that .” Snorting, I pushed the money back toward Izzy. “Keep it. Just remind me about the tipping bit tomorrow.”
    “Your deal with Ms. Talanger won’t run late, will it? Cayenne said she’s supposed to go on at eleven.”
    “Her name’s Pepper. Every time you call her Cayenne I have to stop and remember who the hell you’re talking about.” Stacking the dry glasses, I shook my head. “But to answer your question, I should be finished way before eleven. Ms. Talanger knows the deal. Five hundred for two hours, anything after is double. She’s loaded and spends money like water but she’s not that feckless.”
    “You charge through the nose.”
    “If they’re stupid enough to believe a deck of tarot cards is the solution to all their problems, they’re stupid enough to lose all their money to someone who ‘helps’ them with their problems.” I wiped my hands on a bar towel, reached for my bag. “Speaking of, want to do a trial run? Make sure I’m not rusty?”
    Izzy snorted, shifted on her bar stool. “Yeah, why the hell not? You pulling for you or me?”
    “I’ll pull three for me. See what happens.” I gave the tarot deck a quick shuffle, cut the deck twice before slapping the cards back together. “Eight of cups.”
    Izzy whistled when I turned the first card over. “That’s not good.”
    “How would you know?” The retort held little bite because she was correct. Severing of old ties, a turning away from the old toward the new. I shook my head at the second card. “The King of Cups, reversed.”
    “About time you got a man.”
    “Yeah, except this one is violent, unscrupulous, and lacking in all moral sense.” My fingers shook as I flipped the third and final card over. “Fuck.”
    “Why do the prettiest cards always have the ugliest meanings?” Izzy pulled the card closer to her, spun it around in circles. “The Tower?”
    “Conflict, change. Disruption, upheaval.” I huffed out a breath, closed my eyes as I struggled to remember what else the card represented. “Eventually, enlightenment.”
    “So, it’s a bad card with good intentions?”
    “More like the old saying about if you’re going through hell, keep on going.” More unnerved than I