Chapter 1: Opening Day
Chapter Text
Will hopped out of his truck and stared at the keyring in his hands for longer than he’d like to admit. Two silver keys were paired with a small keychain depicting a golden sun on a black backdrop. He smiled as the items jingled together while he separated one of the keys from the other and walked the short distance to the back of his building.
When he unlocked the door, the stillness of the small suite welcomed him. He flicked the light switch and harsh fluorescent lighting flickered to life. He went about switching on the various lamps and alternative lighting options around the room. The tiny salt lamps were his favorite. Once all the items were on, he flicked the light switch back off and reveled in the warm ambiance of the room.
He'd spent nearly a whole month decorating the narrow suite, and he still worried it wasn’t enough. His business was the smallest in the plaza, the room nearly three times longer than it was wide. The space had undergone repeated changes in renters with most businesses lasting only a couple months. He didn’t understand why people would be so eager to leave the prime spot. Yes, it was small, but the other businesses in the plaza were uniquely upscale and constantly buzzing with life. There were fancy boutiques that altered clothes and offered beautiful designer pieces, nice dining establishments, and a variety of shops sporting imported goods. The people who wandered through the plaza were seemingly keen to empty their wallets.
Will had tried his best to cater to the areas’ more expensive tastes. The moody setting inside his building was highly stylized, posters and plants placed just right to make you feel at home while still being clear it’s a serious and distinguished establishment, or at least he hoped that was what the room conveyed. His front window had very little in terms of marketing. The door had a decal that said “Stag’s Divination” with his business hours below it, and he had a small sign featuring gold antlers encased around the word “open” or “closed” depending on which way it faced.
He still had some time to kill before he would be officially open for his first day of business, and his stomach tied itself in knots as the anxiety ate at him. He fidgeted with the items in the room for the nth time before deciding he needed to get out of the building. He left through the front door and locked it behind him before walking a few doors down to a café.
The atmosphere was cozy, and there wasn’t even a line despite the various patrons that were already sitting around the café enjoying fresh beverages and chattering about their plans for the day. Will watched as a particular man checked his Rolex and skittered off to the parking lot, apparently late for work.
A middle-aged woman smiled at him from behind the counter and greeted him.
“Good morning! Have you had a chance to look at her menu?” Her tone was warm and soft, and he realized he hadn’t even looked at the handwritten menu behind her. He’d been too busy people watching.
A small blush crept up his face as he said, “Sorry, no. I might need a minute.”
“Take your time! I’m in no rush. Just let me know when you’re ready to order.” She seemed genuine in her kindness, and he felt put at ease. Maybe that was why this place was so packed. The café looked otherwise ordinary.
After looking at the menu for a minute, he beckoned her back over with a small wave.
“I think,” he started, “I’ll just take a medium Americana… and maybe one of those scones.” He pointed at a lemon poppy seed scone with lavender icing that sat in the glass case next to the counter.
“Great choice,” she said as she rang up the order. “That’ll be 17.43. Is that for here or to go?”
Will tried his best to subdue his shock at the price and muttered out a quick “to go.” To the woman’s benefit, she didn’t seem too shaken up by his reaction. She started on his order as he tapped his card and selected a 20% tip. He’d be damned if he made a bad first impression here.
“That’ll be down at the end for you when it’s ready,” she told him while motioning with a sweeping gesture to the end of the counter. He walked down to the pick-up area and checked his watch. Still thirty minutes until he opened. He didn’t need to make getting here this early a habit, and he definitely didn’t need to be dropping a hard-earned twenty every time he went for coffee.
It only took about a minute before she sat the to-go cup and wrapped scone in front of him.
“Have a good day!” She practically shined as she said it. Will nodded awkwardly in acknowledgement and shuffled out of the café with his breakfast. He looked at the slightly fuller parking lot and decided to just get back into his shop. His anxiety was wracking his nerves already.
He’d been selling tarot readings for years as a side gig, and he’d eventually gotten so notorious for it he was making more money doing that than fixing up engines and other odds and ends repairs. He’d take reading tarot over manual labor for strangers any day, and thus Stag’s Divination was born.
When he finally settled into his chair on the side of the room, his Americano was cool enough to sip. The taste was extraordinary, and he realized there may be more reasons the café had earned its stead here than he had originally thought. The scone was equally delicious, and he was sated and jittery by the time he’d finished both items. His eyes shot to his watch for the millionth time that morning as he was throwing away the trash from his breakfast, and he groaned as he realized he still had five minutes to pace around before he could open. Even then, he fretted, there would likely be no business today. He had posted the details of his business where he had previously marketed his readings, and he had even denied all the reading requests the past month and directed them instead to his website. It didn’t even offer a booking option yet, but he figured he wouldn’t need one for a while.
With softly trembling hands, he unlocked the door and flipped the sign to “open” at exactly noon. To his surprise, he didn’t have to wait long until he had his first patron. She had been a regular of his before, but he didn’t know she would miss her biweekly readings so dearly. He ushered her from the front of the store to the curtain-partitioned back where she was moved to tears by his assessment of her living situation. Her uncharacteristically chipped nails, split ends, and seemingly lower self-esteem had been a dead giveaway to him, but people were always so surprised by what he saw in them. This wasn’t even the first time she’d cried with him, but he still felt vaguely uncomfortable. He felt even more so when she gave him a hug and told him she’d tip him an additional $20 on his admittedly overpriced fee of $50 for a six-card spread. He had decided to shoot for the moon, and he knew the rent on this building was outrageous enough to warrant it.
When they emerged from his reading area, he was surprised to see two more patrons in the waiting room.
“Thank you for your patience, I’ll be with you both in a moment.” He nodded and smiled, trying his best to imitate the warmth he’d seen from the barista earlier. The woman he had just helped, Cathy, struggled with the card reader for a little too long, and Will had to help her figure out how to select “credit” or “debit” with an overly-accommodating smile plastered to his face.
“Again, thank you so much!” She leaned in closer to him before saying, “I’m going to tell all my girlfriends about this. They were hesitant when you didn’t have a set location, but you better be prepared for some more business, young man!” She beamed at him before patting the back of his hand.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” he replied. She left excitedly without much more fanfare, and Will turned to his small waiting room. He made a mental note to find some way of building a queue so his patrons wouldn’t need to rely on honesty to get their reading done in the appropriate order.
Thankfully, he had few issues with the system throughout the day, and by the time 8 pm rolled around, he was exhausted. He’d done readings back-to-back nearly all day. His only reprieve had been around dinner time, and he’d had a chance to warm up some ramen noodles in his tiny breakroom in the back.
The closed sign tapped against the glass door with a satisfying clack, and he turned the lock on the door with a rewarding sense of finality. He had really done it. It was his first day, and he had already made a decent amount of money to go toward his monthly expenses. Hell, he’d even sold quite a few items he had stocked the checkout. He was worried the local tarot decks and tea blends wouldn’t sell well, but people seemed eager to support small businesses. The relief he felt was deep. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been at the idea of failing here, but he reminded himself to be cautious. He couldn’t get his hopes up too high over one day’s business going well.
He stuck around and wiped down all the furniture with a variety of polishes and vacuumed the carpet until the room was once again immaculate. He also perused on his phone for a bit before ordering a minimally garish “walk-ins welcome” sign that emanated a warm yellow glow and sent the receipt to his business email. He’d have to worry about building the appointment feature into his website when he got home, and he realized he’d probably need to add a sign-in feature to his little work tablet for the walk-ins as well. Why hadn’t he thought of this beforehand?
He tried not to beat himself up too much and instead focus on enjoying the successful day he’d had. He grabbed Sonic on the way home, and when he’d made it back to his house on the outskirts of Baltimore, he could do nothing but feed and pet his dogs, eat, and sink into his couch. He felt zapped. He’d spent eight hours psychoanalyzing guests, yes, but the more exhausting part was trying to be polite about it. All the pleasantries and the smiles and, god, the eye contact? He felt like he could fall asleep on the couch and never get back up.
Unwilling to fall into that trap, he drug himself to the shower before nestling into his bed and falling into an uncharacteristically silent slumber.
Chapter 2: Temple of Aphrodite
Summary:
Will meets a patron of Amato for the first time, and he learns about the mysterious restaurant owner just next door.
Notes:
Kind of a short chapter, but hopefully it's as fun to read as it was to write :) Out here drinking chai lattes making gay men argue on my little computer screen. Yippie! Yippie!
Chapter Text
When he woke up to his alarm at eight the next morning, he groaned into his pillow. He’d need to work on his website until he needed lunch, and then he’d be able to grab some fast food on the way to the shop. This running a business thing made him hungry, but the greasy burgers were certainly going to catch up with him.
When he got to the tarot shop, it was already almost noon. He was thankful to have a shorter period to wait before opening, and even more appreciative that he’d figured out how to add a check-in feature to his tablet. He parked in the employee parking and noticed a Bentley that had also been there the day before. He realized it would make sense that the patrons weren’t the only rich ones here, but it made his rusty, red truck stick out like a sore thumb.
When he got inside, he fiddled with the few saleable items he had again. Amongst the tarot decks and teas were also smudge sticks, incense, crystal necklaces, and crystal rings. He was glad the more creative local items were selling first, but he thought he’d made pretty good choices on everything else, too.
Thankfully, by the time he was satisfied with the waiting area, it was time to open for the day. Even more excitingly, it was just as busy as the day before. People were popping in and out of his shop, and he got quite a few more walk-ins from the fancier patrons of the other shops in the plaza. One particular patron, adorned in an ill-fitting suit with a clashing color scheme, waited in the main room for all of five minutes before insisting he go before the guests who been there before him. The other patrons, clearly tired of his poor attitude, were more than happy to let him go first. Will welcomed him into the partitioned tarot portion of the room and sat down in his seat.
“Glad to beat the wait,” the guest said as he slumped into his chair. “I mean, checking in like it’s a Sports Clips when some of us are clearly in a hurry?” He scoffed before seeming to remember why he was there. “I’m Franklin. I frequent the restaurant next to you: Amato. It’s nice. I mean really nice. You should have dinner there sometime. Way nicer than this place. I mean wow. Only open two days a week, and it’s just amazing. The guy who runs it is fantastic. He has impeccable taste.” Franklin dabbed a drop of sweat from his brow with his pocket square before haphazardly shoving it back into his pocket. Will tried his best not to openly grimace, and his face blazed with embarrassment at the brutal and continuous insults.
Franklin continued, “I, uh, I saw this place, and it’s new. Just thought I’d stop in before I go to dinner. I was wondering if I could get a reading about me and the owner of Amato. I mean, I don’t believe in any of this bullshit. No offense. But I was wondering if you’d tell me how he feels about me? Not that he feels anything about me. Or that I feel about him. I mean. Yeah. Can you do that? I just respect him a lot.”
Will looked at Franklin blankly for a moment before deciding the best course of action. He leaned in with a conspiratorial glance to the waiting room.
“I don’t do this often, but I can do a special tarot spread for you. It’ll let you know exactly what is going on between you two, but it’s just a little more expensive. I don’t offer it to everyone.” He grinned without wanting to. Faking this kindness shit was getting old, but pulling one over on this asshole was more than worth the effort.
“Really?” Franklin’s face split into a radiant smile. Will suppressed a frown. This wasn’t going to end well, but he wasn’t going to lie to this poor guy. Not only was it clear he was head over heels for this chef, but it was also clear that the cook felt absolutely nothing in return. Maybe doing the temple of Aphrodite spread was a bad recommendation. Despite Will’s hesitation, he figured it would be easier to just get this interaction over with.
Franklin watched intently as Will shuffled the cards.
“Is there anything I do during this? I’ve never been to a psychic before.”
Will actually frowned this time. “I’m a tarot reader, not a psychic, and no, you don’t have to do a whole lot for this. I’ve got the work covered.” If he were a real tarot reader, maybe he’d be a bit more involved with his readings recipients, but he mainly used the time he shuffled to take a step into his customers’ shoes with relative silence. It was easier for him to take a look into their life through his mind’s eye than it was to divine details from his deck. He placed the cards in two three-card columns before placing a card in the middle. He slowly flipped them over to display the cards faces, and he watched as Franklin got antsier and antsier with the wait.
“What do they say?” Franklin asked, peaking over the cards as he tried to read them from too far away.
Will pointed to one side before saying, “These are about you, and these,” he continued, pointing to the other column, “are about the chef. The middle card is about you both. Could you tell me the chef’s name? It’ll just help me convey the information easier.”
“Well,” Franklin laughed, “he’s not a chef. He’s more of an experience creator. He doesn’t even have a sommelier. He matches the wines to his own dishes, and he makes all of the recipes himself. The only staff he has are sous chefs and waiters, but yes, you can call him Mr. Lecter.” Will watched with thinly veiled annoyance. This man was obsessed.
“It looks like you really think highly of this guy. See this card here?” Will pointed at the card at the top of the first row. “And you feel like you two are cut from the same cloth, like you two would mesh really well together. You want that in your future.” Will didn’t look up to see if Franklin was agreeing because he knew he was correct. Now for the hard part.
“You see this card?” Will pointed at the card on the top of the second row. “He- he appreciates your patronage of his restaurant. He’s very passionate about his cooking. Lecter feels as though-”
“It’s Mr. Lecter but go on.”
Will refrained from rolling his eyes and continued, “Right. Mr. Lecter feels as though,” Will ran through several ways of saying ‘wants you to fuck off’ in his head before deciding to say, “you two should maintain your chef and connoisseur relationship.”
Franklin all but cried at the words. Will didn’t particularly care, and he was happy with himself for being more than kind on his delivery of his reading.
“Is that really what they say? Can you read them again?” Franklin asked.
“That’s not really how this works,” Will replied.
Franklin balked, “But I feel like he wants to be friends with me. I mean, we both like the same things, and I see him all the time. We even attend a lot of the same operas, and I see him in my favorite cheese shop all the time. I don’t know why you would think he would want anything different. Now I really don’t believe in psychics.”
“I’m sorry, but the cards say what the cards say. Would you like to follow me to the front?” Will rose from his seat, and Franklin stayed sitting in his chair for entirely too long before getting up and moping to the register. He didn’t tip and left in a huff in the direction of Amato. Will didn’t particularly mind. He’d charged $150, and Franklin didn’t even seem to acknowledge the total before he’d thrown his card down.
The rest of the evening was much calmer, and by the time eight rolled around again, he had almost entirely forgotten about the rude interaction. He cleaned and locked up quickly, and he was home before nine. His dogs swarmed him with a swath of wagging tails and slobbery licks, and he realized how much he’d missed them. Once he was done eating, he took them outside and spent the rest of the night playing fetch with them and giving them some well-deserved attention.
He slipped into bed again, exhausted.
He hoped sleep would come, but the process was difficult. It felt unsustainable to keep working like this, and it was only his second day. You’re supposed to give your all for months before you usually even see a profit. What if he’d made a monumental mistake opening a business? It would be a terrible adjustment to have to close the shop.
And when sleep came, it didn’t relieve his worries. At sunrise, he woke up dripping in sweat with his heart going a mile a minute.
His nightmares had returned.