Written for SM_Monthly May 2009 Challenge: Tarot Card
The front door opened to reveal Mina, dressed in layers of dark blue with bright yellow circle earrings, and Kevin sporting a three-piece suit with a clear plastic raincoat over it. Raye's face fell.
"I told you to wear costumes, you killjoys!" She leaned in the doorway, pulling down the hem of her tiny skirt. She had picked what she deemed the "least offensive" of the usual slutty Halloween costumes, and "slutty gypsy" barely fit the bill. That and she liked wearing false eyelashes and head scarves. If only her friends would put in some effort…
Mina blinked. "I am in costume. I'm Starry Night. Get it?"
Raye rolled her eyes. "NO. You couldn't just stick a sheet over your head? Kevin?"
He silently held up an axe, a plastic guard over the clean, sharp edge and the Lowe's price tag still stuck to its handle.
"Oh!" She nodded in approval. "Shouldn't you be covered in splattered blood, too?"
"I don't do splattered blood. I got enough weird looks buying this thing as it was."
"I think they thought he was going to go and kill someone," Mina explained, smoothing her hair over her shoulder as she wandered into the party. "What's to drink?"
"Over there, you know where we keep it," Raye said, pointing towards the kitchen. She sat back down at the table, already littered with plastic cup, and picked up the card that she had left when she went to answer the door. "Where were we?"
Jesse, bravely sporting a Speedo and eight fake gold medals, had insisted on drinking his vodka tonic out of a real glass. "That one," he said, tapping a card.
Raye reached over and flipped it over. Jesse let out a piercing cry. "Oh shit, the devil card! I'm fucked!"
"No, no," Raye tried to calm him down. "It's not always a bad thing. It can represent a belief that is holding you back from personal growth."
"Oh, sweetie, please! It's a fucking devil on a fucking card and he has hairy legs and big round titties like a queen! There is no bright side to that ugly bitch!"
Raye couldn't help laughing; she had brought the tarot deck and Ouiji board out just for cheap fun, and pretty much all of her readings were ending this way. Darien had pulled the Ace of Wands, and when told that it was the trump card that foretold success and luck, he had tucked it in his pocket and refused to give it back. She made a mental note to steal it back before he left.
Serena had tied every card to some aspect of her life, no matter how mundane. Her reading took twice as long as everyone else, in which time she drank a lot more vodka than usual. Now there was a very tipsy slutty angel lurching around the apartment.
Noah, whose lazy LeBron James costume consisted of a basketball jersey and headband, kept arguing with her about the validity of the meanings, trying to get a more positive outcome. "Noah, it's not a freaking game. There's no way to win!"
He sat back, abashed. "I know."
The slutty gypsy pounded back the rest of her Long Island. "I don't think you do. There's no right answer and no correct card. You just have to apply the interpretations to aspects of your life."
"Well how come I got the Death Card then? That sucks. Let me pick another one."
"Oh God," she sighed, getting up to have Jason fix her another drink.
The more drinks she consumed, the more consistent her readings became.
"Page of Wands," she announced to the non-slutty butterfly. "You're going to get laid."
Amy choked on a forced chuckle. "Excuse me?"
Starry Night went next. "Queen of Cups," Mina announced as she flipped over the card. "Pretty. What does it mean?"
Raye's eyes were sliding in and out of focus. "It means your costume sucks. And you're going to get laid."
Zach whammed the card down, seeming a bit angry, for some reason. Earlier, Raye had cheerfully informed him that his alien costume, which was nothing but a "Hello My Name Is" sticker, sucked. "Three of Cups."
Raye hiccupped. "You're gonna get laid."
"I know that. With who?"
"Not me, homeboy."
A few more drinks. "OK, Bateman, flip it over."
Kevin obeyed. "What's that?"
She was weaving in her seat. "Knight of Coins. I'm pretty sure you're gonna get laid. Your girlfriend got a 'laid card' too."
He was frowning at her, concerned. "Are you all right?"
She waved him off. "YES. God, lay off. Don't split my head open with an axe."
Shaun of the Dead slid into the seat that the American Psycho had vacated, dropping his cricket bat on the ground. "Ready to do me?"
Raye didn't even glance at the card he pulled. The room was starting to feel too small, and too hot, the music too loud, and too many people were crammed in. Her bedroom would probably be cool, and quiet, and she could pull of her shoes and lay down and maybe the spinning in her head would stop.
"Raye? What does this mean?" He was grinning like an eighteen-year-old lottery winner as he held up the card.
The Lovers. Raye coughed and barely suppressed the rise of bile that nearly escaped. Her face beaded with sweat that started to run into her makeup. Jason stopped smiling.
"It means I put you to bed, now, doesn't it?"
Her head dropped heavily into a semblance of a nod.
"OK. Come on." He reached under her arms and pulled her up as if she weighed as much as a paper moth, and carried her down the hall. "Pink or blue Gatorade?"
She yawned. "Yellow. And get my Ace of Wands from Darien."
"Is that the card that means you get laid? Maybe I should trade with him."
