Page 1 of A Highland Gargoyle’s Lucky Star (Tales from the Tarot)

Chapter one

Noah

Mama Delilah’s Daily Horoscope Reading

Uh oh, Sagittarius! The stars are not aligning for you today. Trouble’s brewing and you need to watch out. Or maybe you should just roll with it? After all, what will be, will be. Roll with the punches and protect yourself as best as you can. Things will get better… eventually.

G etting fired is like a box of chocolates. You never know what flavor of rejection you’re going to get.

At this point, I’ve sampled the entire box of chocolates and then some, to the point where being booted doesn’t even surprise me anymore.

“Sorry, kid,” Jared says, shaking his head, “I have to let you go.”

The flavor of this firing is rather bittersweet. Working as a server at Jared’s bar had been a lot of fun, but I knew it wouldn’t last from the start. Trouble always manages to find me no matter how hard I try to avoid it. If my math isn’t wrong, this is the twelfth job I’ve lost in the last nine months.

A new record.

Although this was one of the positions I’ve managed to hold on to the longest—Jared gave me plenty of chances and was more than fair.

Unfortunately, good intentions don’t have much of an impact on the chronically bad luck that is my personal plague of doom.

My mind drifts back to the events of the evening.

It’s a typical busy Friday night at The Watering Hole. I’m making some good tips as I bustle around the place, taking orders and serving up everything needed for people to get a head start on their party weekends.

It’s just after nine o’clock when things suddenly go haywire.

I swear, it isn’t my fault either. Not exactly, anyway.

I’m carrying a tray full of drinks for a table of six when some big, beefy guy who’s already three sheets to the wind comes stumbling back from the bathroom. Before I can react, he collides with me and my full tray, sending us both flying in different directions.

The beers have the grave misfortune of landing on a group of young guys who’ve been drinking and watching a football game on the television. Beer goes everywhere.

For whatever reason, they’re primed for a fight and my bad luck is the spark that ignites a powder keg just waiting to blow.

Within seconds, tempers flare when the drunk guy starts laughing his ass off at the beer-soaked college bros. I manage to duck low just before the fists start flying and scramble out of the way—being smaller than your average Joe does have its advantages!

At first, it’s five against one belligerent asshole. But then some of the asshole’s pals see what’s happening and join the fracas.

Slack-jawed, I stare in disbelief while the situation turns into a campy fight scene right out of Roadhouse . But I sure as shit am no Patrick Swayze, so I will not be kicking any ass tonight. Instead, I opt to hide out in the relative safety to be found in the space behind the bar. I’m joined by Susie, our surly bartender of the evening, who’s tucked into a corner texting on her phone while chaos engulfs the entire establishment.

A chair goes sailing through the air and crashes against the wall near us, splintering in pieces on the ground.

Talk about a little too close for comfort.

I peek over the edge of the rail just in time to see someone get slammed down on a table, which collapses under them. Bottles and glasses shatter on the floor and people scream as they hurry to get out of the way of the melee.

The heavy thud of fists thumping into flesh has me returning to my hiding spot. By now, our more sensible patrons have gotten wise to the situation and skedaddled, most of them leaving behind their open tabs.

Fuck.

By the time Jared comes out of his office to break things up, the damage has already been done.

Jared sighs.

I peek at my soon-to-be-ex boss as he leans back in his creaky office chair, folding his hands over his gently rounded belly. “You understand, right? Nothing personal against you, but tonight was the third incident this month.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” I manage to mumble pathetically.

He scratches his bushy beard. “I know, but for some reason, you seem to attract problems—and costly ones at that.”

My shoulders slump.

I don’t blame Jared. He’s a pretty good guy and treated me well as a boss. The odds were just stacked against me, like always. Tonight just happened to hit a new low point in the cosmic clusterfuck that is my life.

He isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, and I can’t really deny what he’s saying. Is it epically unfair that this is my fate? Fuck yes, it is. But I’ve also had a good twenty-six years to get used to it.

As much as one can, that is.

Mom always explained away my bad luck by saying that I was born under a wonky alignment of the stars.

“Noah, you were born under a Sagittarius Sun, a Scorpio Moon, and Capricorn Rising. It makes you adventurous, hardworking, and emotionally attuned to the world around you—but that Scorpio Moon. Scorpio moons are intense. They’re focused, they overthink. They’re not in the moment, so when you’re not present, that’s when bad luck happens.”

I don’t know if I believe in all of that astrology stuff, even though Mom has talked about it since I was a toddler, but there has to be some reason why I seem to attract more than my fair share of trouble.

Sometimes, I worry it’s karma from a past life. But I can’t imagine what kind of terrible person I must have been to warrant any of this.

“I understand,” I tell Jared.

I really need this job, but I can’t argue with the man. He’s given me a lot more chances than some of my other employers, and for that, I’m grateful.

“I’m really sorry that all of this happened,” I add.

He gets up and comes around the desk to clasp my shoulder in one of his big hands. “Like I said, it’s not directly your fault. It’s a tough break, but I can’t afford to keep filing insurance claims and losing money because of situations like this.”

I grimace. I don’t even want to think about how much money’s worth of damage was caused this evening.

Biting my lip, I look up at him nervously. “Am I going to have to pay for tonight?”

Jared gives me a reassuring smile. “Nah, that’s what my insurance coverage is for. When the cops were here, I filed a report for them again. It’s only the third time I’ve had to do it, so things should be fine. After all, it’s not unusual for a bunch of rowdy drunks to cause trouble in a bar.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “As long as I’m not filing insurance claims for this kind of thing on a regular basis, I’ll be fine.”

The underlying implication is clear, and I’m not an idiot. Besides, I don’t want to cause problems for a good guy like Jared.

He goes back to his desk and opens a drawer to pull out a stack of bills. Jared counts out some cash, folds it in a wad, and hands it to me.

“Your final pay.”

I take the cash, wide-eyed. There’s more here than he probably owes me.

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “Consider it severance. You’re a hard worker and that bright and cheerful personality of yours means my customers love you. I’m sorry to lose you, but I’ve got to focus on the business’s bottom line. Still, I appreciate all that you did for me in the time you were here.”

I’m oddly touched. Jared and I are nothing more than boss and employee, but he’s been one of the better people I’ve worked for over the years, and a lot more sympathetic to my situation than most.

Usually, folks just get irritated and frustrated before washing their hands of me.

Sometimes there’s a lot of yelling and pointing of fingers involved, but this is one of the more sedate firings I’ve ever undergone. I have to admit, I’m quite grateful.

Getting to my feet, I hand him my branded server apron. “Thanks for putting up with me as long as you did. I’m sure I’ll land on my feet somehow.” I give him a wry smile. “I always do.”

I don’t really have any other options anyway.

Jared shakes his head sadly. “I know you told me about your situation, but I never imagined your bad luck would be quite so…”

“Bad?”

“Yeah.”

Right now, jobless again, my options aren’t great. Sure, my parents would let me stay with them for a while if I needed to, but I was their late-in-life baby, born when they were both already in their forties. Now they’re retired and living out their lifelong dream of traveling the country in their RV.

I shudder at the thought of sharing that cramped space with them.

Only if things get truly dire will I go down that path.

I head to the back room where I keep my stuff stored in a locker and sling my backpack over my shoulders.

Jared sees me out of the building before he returns inside to lock up for the night.

Heaving an enormous sigh, I cast one last look at The Watering Hole and turn away heading toward home.

Like most sensible people in Chicago, I don’t own a car. I can’t afford one, and it wouldn’t be worth it anyway. The train system gets me pretty much everywhere I need to go and my feet take care of the rest.

From the bar to my apartment is only about ten blocks, so I normally walk it. I know it’s not always safe to be out on the streets late at night, but this part of town isn’t too bad.

Most of the time, I don’t have anything of value on me. If somebody wanted to mug me, they could have my empty wallet and backpack, and I wouldn’t be bothered. Even my phone probably isn’t worth much, considering it’s a good six or seven years old at this point, and wasn’t a high-end model to begin with.

Tonight I’m more flush with cash than normal, but thankfully the street is empty as I make my way toward home.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping. What a crappy day.

Getting fired was just the icing on the shit cake for me. The first blow had come when I’d woken up in the morning to yet another rejection from a publisher for the children’s book I wrote and illustrated.

I pull out my phone and like a masochist, re-read the email from my agent.

Dear Noah,

I wish I was writing with better news. The publisher I pitched your book opted not to make an offer. They’re looking for “something else.” Vague and elusive, I know. Your book is great. It’s why I signed you as a client, but I’m hitting nothing but dead ends here. We may have to shelve this project for a while and try again in a few years. Do you have anything new you’re working on?

Best, Megan

This was honestly a bigger blow than losing my job at The Watering Hole. I’m used to rejections on all fronts, but it’s always more painful when it impacts your dreams.

I like to think I’m fairly intelligent, but school wasn’t really my thing. Standardized tests were the bane of my existence and a lot of the curriculum bored the crap out of me. The only things I did enjoy were my art and English classes. Drawing is one of the few things I’m really good at and picture books gave me lots of inspiration growing up. As I got older, I realized I wanted to make fun and inclusive picture books for LGBTQ+ kids like me.

But so far, no one wants to publish Dynamic Dan and the Magical Rainbow Drag Coat .

Who wouldn’t want to read a story about a fabulous little boy who discovers a magical rainbow coat that turns him into various drag beauties whenever he wears it? It also gives him superpowers to help protect himself and his best friend from school bullies. Awesome, right?

Sigh.

I still believe in my book but my self-confidence is getting shaky. What I need is something to revive my optimism.

God, I really need to get laid.

That brilliant idea instantly perks me up.

How had I not thought of this before? After the day I’ve had, I totally deserve a good pounding that will make me forget everything.

Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to Matt. We’ve had a casual thing going for the last month or so. He’s cute and low maintenance. I know he sees other people but I don’t mind. I’m not looking for a real relationship with him. Besides, he likes to have sex.

And often.

With lots of different people.

And damn if he isn’t really fucking good at it too. A first-class railing from him would help me forget about getting fired.

Me: Shit day. Need a good, hard fuck. When can you come over?

I wait for a while, frowning as my screen shows the message has been read but I get no response. This isn’t late for Matt. In fact, it’s right about the time he’s usually getting his night started.

Me: You there?

After what feels like ten minutes but is probably only two, I see the dots dancing as he types out a response.

Fuck yeah, I’m gonna get fucked!

Matt: Hey. So here’s the thing. I kinda met someone.

Me: I don’t want a threesome. Come see me after you’re done.

Matt: No, I MET someone. As in, it’s serious.

Me: Shut the fuck up.

My mind’s reeling. Horndog Matt of the “monogamy is for suckers” camp can’t possibly be serious with someone. Right?

Matt: Dude. It’s true love or something. I’ve never felt like this before. We’ve got a love nest happening and everything.

Before I can even come up with a response another text chimes.

Matt: Sorry, man. I promised to commit to my guy so you and I need to end things. It was fun while it lasted. Have a good life!

I frantically try to send him a reply only to discover I’ve not only been dumped but summarily blocked as well.

Fuck. My. Life.

As I trudge along the sidewalk, I ponder yet again what I could have done in a past life to deserve this. I must have been a truly heinous piece of shit. Nothing else explains why I’m plagued by one bad thing after another. And today has been a doozy.

I’m zero for three so far.

Dream crushed? Check.

Job lost and destitution on the horizon? Check.

Left for someone else without so much as a farewell fuck? Check.

I’m sure there’s a country music song out there that would fit this moment perfectly right about now.

My wandering, woebegone mind comes to a halt and I pull up sharp to blink in surprise at a storefront I’ve never noticed before.

An ornate black sign with elegant red lettering above the door proclaims it to be The Magic Shop.

I glance around me, frowning. This is still the same old street I normally walk when heading home, but I’ve never seen this place before. The storefront I recall was boarded up and vacant anytime I passed by, but now it’s like it’s been revitalized overnight.

The exterior is dark and mysterious, but also strangely alluring. Soft, golden light emanates from the front windows, and a red neon Open sign glows in welcome.

My curiosity piqued, I find myself drawn toward the door.

It’s going on midnight now, and I’m surprised that the place is open. Sure, this is Chicago, but at such a late hour there usually isn’t much open in the area besides bars and convenience stores. It’s the only establishment on the block that’s got its lights on right now.

I can’t put my finger on it, but something about the place is practically calling to me.

A cool October breeze rushes by and I shiver. It wouldn’t hurt to stop in for a minute, just to check it out—right?

My entire body tingles with awareness and before I fully realize what I’m doing, I’m heading inside.