Total Rush by Deirdre Martin

straight at her.
    â€œYou don’t have to ask the question out loud.”
    â€œOh.”
    Uther shuffled . . . and shuffled . . . and shuffled, giving Gemma time to process the fact that he obviously had a crush on her. This wasn’t good.
    â€œDone.”
    Excited as a child completing his first finger painting, Uther turned over the top card. It was the Nine of Swords. Damn, thought Gemma.
    â€œDo you know what card it is?” she prompted.
    Uther’s scrawny chest puffed up. “Nine of swords, obviously.”
    Gemma nodded approvingly. “Any idea what it signifies?”
    â€œYou tell me.” His gaze hinted at seduction. “I am but your humble pupil, Lady, and hope always to be.”
    â€œIt’s symbolic of suffering,” Gemma explained, ignoring his lame, faux-Shakespearean attempt at flirting. “Patient suffering that has to be borne with courage.”
    Uther deflated. “Oh.”
    â€œIt’s not absolute, you know,” Gemma reminded him. Much as his blatant staring was beginning to unnerve her, she still felt sorry for the guy. He was obviously lonely. She tried to think if she had any girlfriends she might hook him up with, but came up blank.
    â€œWe need to wrap up,” she told him. “The hour’s up and I need to reopen my store.”
    â€œOkay.” Uther looked almost petulant. “What task hast thou set for me this week?”
    â€œMemorize the meaning of any five cards you want.”
    â€œThat’s it? I can do more, you know. I have a photographic memory.”
    â€œReally? Then learn the meaning for all the cards.”
    â€œO-okay.” He looked uncertain.
    â€œThat was a joke, Uther. Learn at least five, and if you want to do more, feel free.”
    â€œWill do, Lady Most Fair. Mind if I look around the store awhile after you reopen?”
    â€œBe my guest.” Gemma slid out from behind the counter. “Oh, and Uther?”
    She was going to tell him to can the poesy or he’d find himself not with Lady Fair but Lady Macbeth, but stopped herself. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
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    It embarrassed Sean, but to find Gemma’s store he had to look Thompson Street up on a map. Like the area surrounding Wall Street where he’d once worked, the Village was filled with narrow, twisting streets, so different from the rigid grid system upon which the rest of Manhattan was mapped. Bleecker, Houston, Broome, Canal—Sean was familiar with the names, but had never hung out there himself.
    He came up out of the subway on West Fourth Street, map in hand, looking like a tourist. It took a while, but he finally found the Golden Bough, right off the intersection of Thompson and Grand. Part of him expected something dark and Dickensian, with a black cat sitting in the store window atop a pile of dusty books. Instead, he found a small but bright shop whose sign blazed in gold and purple. The window display was pleasantly busy with books, tarots cards, crystals, and candles. Doubt crept in as he gripped the door handle. Do I really want to do this?
    He paused, recalling Socrates Campbell’s words of wisdom. So what if Gemma was different? Wasn’t that what had attracted him to her in the first place? To automatically assume she wouldn’t fit in was narrow-minded and ignorant, two adjectives he didn’t want applied to him. At the very least, he owed Gemma an apology. In the best of all possible worlds, she would forgive him and maybe, just maybe, agree to a real date with him. Assuming she didn’t catch sight of him and tell him to go to hell immediately. Or send me there herself.
    He opened the door and slipped inside, gratified to see there were other customers in the store. The presence of other shoppers ensured she wouldn’t wing things at him, call him names, and tear him a new one. He hoped.
    The inside of the store was brightly lit and well organized, with a soothing