13 rows of cards (4 per row) cover the table, slightly overlapping one another so they all fit on the small surface. Torquemada taps his chin thoughtfully as he inspects them.
“You’re happy,” he says finally. A bit uncertainly.
Ryan snorts, unimpressed. “That’s it? I’m happy?” He shifts in his chair. “Wrong already, hermano. Fucking miserable. Bored. Can we go back to pinochle?”
“Be patient, sugar.” Torquemada stares at the cards some more. Leans in, sniffs them. “This is a very precise art. It takes time.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Being in the joint for 6 years and counting, you got pretty used to playing cards. Not much else to do. Watch stupid shit on TV, read the same books over and over again, play the same damn games with the same damn people, ad infinitum. Some games had higher stakes than others, but at the moment, things were quiet. No drama, no beef – everyone seemed to be more or less getting along since they’d returned to Em City.
It should have been nice. Mostly, though, it was boring.
So when Torquemada had folded for the last time and suggested the tarot reading, Ryan had perked up a little.
Not too much, though.
“That psychic shit’s all fake,” he’d retorted. “Just another fucking scam.”
“You scared, baby?” Torquemada had shot back.
“Nah. It’s just stupid. You just make shit up and hope the guy is enough of a sucker to buy it. The fuck would I be scared of?”
“That I might have your number.” He’d grinned. “That I might be able to read your soul.”
Something about it had pissed Ryan off. “Fine. Go for it. It’ll all be dumb shit you could say about anybody, though.”
Torquemada had collected the cards off the table, straightened the deck, and placed it in front of Ryan. “Shuffle. Don’t cut. Then give them back to me.” Ryan had obliged, and Torquemada had laid out the rows, and now they sat across from each other while the dead-eyed freak pretended to be consulting the spirits or whatever.
“Okay. I’ve got it. Are you ready?”
Ryan gestures for him to go ahead.
“You’re a highly emotional person,” he begins. “You hold affection for a woman from your past. A younger woman. You’re waiting for news about her. You have something to tell her. She owes you something.” He pauses. “Or maybe you owe her.”
“Not younger. I don’t think.”
Torquemada raises an eyebrow. “And the rest?”
Ryan shrugs. “Nothing you didn’t already know.” Gloria had left Oz while they were at Lardner. He’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye, and it ate at him. He doesn’t go around talking about it much, but it isn’t a secret.
Torquemada’s finger moves on to the next row, unperturbed.
“You desire control over yourself, and as part of that, insight about yourself.” He gestures broadly at the cards, and Ryan rolls his eyes. “You have a reputation to protect, and you’re envious of those who are able to keep theirs intact. Ahh.” He taps the two jacks and smirks.
“What?”
“Not something I think you’d like me to say in mixed company, sweetheart.”
Ryan glances back at the small crowd gathering around the table to watch. He flushes slightly. “Fine. Tell me later.”
“Your strength lies in your ability to dedicate yourself to the care of others. Specifically, a soulmate, and a relative. However, you are unable to fulfill these obligations, and it fills you with dread.” He sighs deeply. Ryan glares at him.
“Now you’re just being an asshole.”
Torquemada shrugs. “It’s what the cards say.”
“Fuck the cards. Fuck you.”
“You want me to stop?”
Ryan chews his lip. Curiosity gets the better of him. “No.”
“Your mind plays tricks on you. You’re your own worst enemy. You betray your own morals and your conscience eats away at you. This only gets worse with time.”
“Alright, enough. Jesus.” Ryan becomes suddenly extremely conscious of the people standing behind him. What the fuck had Torquemada not wanted to say? “Explain how the cards say that,” he demands.
“Ryan.” Torquemada shakes his head. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“You ain’t a magician,” he retorts.
Torquemada ignores him. “You’re smart, cunning, charming. You can develop connections with others and learn new skills with ease.”
“Okay, great. Something that doesn’t suck.”
“You’ve developed these skills to make up for your physical lack, a genetic flaw passed down in your family,” Torquemada continues. “Again, this is a source of anxiety for you, which will only get worse with time.” A few laughs from the crowd.
“Don’t have no physical lack,” Ryan grumbles. “I’ll kick the shit out of you right now to prove it.”
“Your father’s gonna die soon.” (“Oh shit,” someone says.)
“What?!”
Torquemada flashes him an evil smile. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily mean that.”
“Explain. Now.”
Torquemada sighs heavily. “Fine.” He points. “A king and a 9 represents a visit from a priest. A king and a 4 represents a man over the age of 40. A king and a 10 represents travelling somewhere. A king in this row at all has something to do with your father. Don’t pretend to be so worried, though.” He flips over the 4 of spades, leaving the remaining cards face-up. “Three red cards represent happiness. And two diamonds specifically represent a sense of balance. You won’t be shedding any tears.” (“Oh, shit!” someone says again, with feeling this time.)
Ryan’s mouth went dry. “So? That doesn’t mean shit. My father’s not going to fucking die.”
“Look on the bright side, baby. Your little doctor seems as though she may come back after all.” Ryan feels his heart speed up despite himself, leans forward a little. Torquemada taps the king of clubs and 2 of clubs in the seventh row. “An old flame returns.” His fingers jump to the jack of diamonds and queen of spades. “A beautiful love affair.” Taps to the jack and 2. “Amorous dealings. And a king in this spot represents a lover.” He pushes the king and queen out slightly. “You’ll need to step carefully, though.” He pushes the jack out to join them. “Perhaps consult a lawyer?” He cuts his eyes over at Beecher sat the table next to them, who grins and shakes his head.
“Leave me out of this,” he says, and returns to his book.
Torquemada inspects the next row, then starts to laugh.
“Alright. Yeah. Go on. What fucking horrible shit is next.”
“Not horrible at all, darling. It all but confirms my earlier prediction.” He taps the king of spades and 10 of diamonds. “Remember what I said about these? You’ve got travel in your future, baby. And who will you meet?” He taps the 2 of hearts. “An old flame, again.” He lays a gloved hand over his heart. “2 of hearts! Magnetism! Ace of clubs! Cleverness! King of spades – an affair. Naughty.” He winks, pushes forward the king and ace. “A successful gamble. Sympathy.” He taps the 2 of hearts and 10 of hearts. “Understanding. Joy!”
Ryan laughs despite himself. “You’re saying I’m going to hook up with Gloria at my dad’s fucking funeral.”
“So romantic.” Torquemada throws the cards at him, and he ducks.
“Shut up. I fucking hate you, dude. Read me the rest of the cards.”
“You’ll be forced to meet in secret for awhile. But you’ll be happy. It’ll fill you with energy. You’ll start believing in God again. All your business ventures will succeed.” He hums. “Everything’s turning up Ryan.”
“Fucking finally.”
“Sexual attraction. Yearning. A powerful attraction. How sweet. And once again, the beautiful love affair. But!” Torquemada taps the queen of hearts and the 3 of diamonds. “You receive news from a distance. That some bitch – ” he pushes forward the queen, “is seeking revenge.” He pushes forward the jack of hearts. “Because it’s an affair, presumably.” He pushes the 8 of hearts to join them.
Ryan thinks for a moment. “Maybe it’s her mother in law?” he suggests hesitantly.
“Potentially.”
“Cause Gloria ain’t got a sister as far as I know. And she ain’t a dyke.”
“Of course not,” Torquemada reassures. “Well, no matter. Your natural talent in deception keeps your love affair safe. You and Gloria remain together, happy.”
Ryan slumps in relief. “Thank God.”
“The security this relationship grants you allows you time to work on self-improvement. You develop a deeper understanding of yourself and awareness of your place in the universe. Idealism. Health. A successful gamble, wild good fortune. It all works out, and you both live happily ever after.” Torquemada pulls the last of the cards back into his hand. A light smattering of applause. He looks pleased with himself.
“Wow.” Ryan leans back in his chair. “Shit. Wow.”
“Believe in psychics now, sugar?”
He feels his face grow hot. “I mean. No. You just made all that shit up.”
“Yo. O'Reily.”
Ryan turns to see Alvarez striding across the quad towards them, still in his hospital blues. He sees Torquemada and hangs back; Torquemada, for his part, simply shuffles the cards without glancing his way. Something's up with them, Ryan doesn't know what. Doesn't care either.
He leaves the table, walks over to Alvarez.
“What’s up.”
“Yo, I just got back from medical. Your dad got into another fight. Not looking good, man. You might wanna ask McManus if you can pay him a visit.”
Ryan’s blood runs cold. “What?” he croaks. (“Oh, shit.”)
“Don’t waste time, man. Get up there.” He points up to McManus’ office, then strides away, back towards the gate.
Ryan glances back at Torquemada – still not looking in his direction, but a smile plays at the corner of his lips. He storms back over to the table.
“You knew.”
“Knew what, baby?” Torquemada’s eyes are wide, innocent.
“You –” Ryan sputters. Stabs a finger at him. “You ordered a hit on my dad!”
“For a card trick?” He laughs incredulously. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re a twisted fuck. You get off on fucking with people’s heads.” He rips the deck out of Torquemada’s hands and throws it on the floor, cards scattering everywhere. Something flashes across his face but he otherwise doesn’t react, just continues watching Ryan with an amused expression. The crowd, which had started to disperse, re-forms around them.
“Maybe," he said, teasing. "Maybe I had Miguelito go through the records at the hospital and find your little doctor’s contact information. Maybe she’s about to receive an anonymous call. ‘Poor Ryan, all alone now, just like you. He’s at the end of his rope. Nobody can get through to him. Unless...’” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.
“You fucking fag. I’ll kill you.”
In an instant, Torquemada springs out of his seat – has him by the throat, pinned against the wall next to the TVs. A few hoots and whistles from the crowd. “Kill me?” he hisses into Ryan’s ear. “You should be thanking me. You should be on your knees licking my fucking boots, if I’ve done this.”
“Hey!” Murphy yells, stomping down the steps. “Break it up! Now!”
Torquemada releases him, raises his hands for the hacks. Ryan clenches his fists, takes a step forward, then back. The C.O.s surround them.
“Do I need to send you to the fucking hole, Torquemada?”
“Oh nooo, Officer Murphy. We’re aaalllll good here.” Murphy glares at him for a long moment, then turns to Ryan.
“O’Reily, you good?”
“Fine,” Ryan spits.
“Fine. Right.” He turns back to Torquemada. “I see any more fucking trouble outta you, you’re going straight to ad-seg.”
“I’ll be a very good boy,” he promises dryly.
“Fucking better.” Murphy stalks away. Torquemada regards Ryan coolly.
“Stupid brat,” he says finally. “It was a card trick. Go see your father.”
Ryan hesitates for a moment, then turns on his heel and starts power-walking towards McManus’ office. Behind him he hears a chair scrape as Torquemada returns to the table, and then Busmalis’ voice –
“Do me next?”
---
“Hey.”
Torquemada sits on Miguel’s bunk, re-applying polish to his nails. “Visiting hours are over,” he says without looking up. “Come back tomorrow.”
“My dad’s fine. He just got popped in the nose. Lotta blood. Alvarez musta not stuck around to get the details.”
“Wooow,” Torquemada drawls. “Que loooco.”
“Look, I’m sorry for freaking out, okay? Jesus. It was just bad fucking timing, is all.”
He hums to himself, still intent on his nails. “You people are all so fucking horrible, you know,” he says in a light, pleasant tone. “All of you. Fuuucking horrible. I wish I’d killed your father. You deserve it. Piece of shit.” He continues humming.
“Yeah, well, I’d be happy about it, right?” Ryan prods. “According to the cards?”
A ghost of a smile. “I suppose.” He looks up at Ryan. “Freak.”
“Hey, right back at you, pal.” Ryan comes into the room. “Can I sit?”
Torquemada doesn’t respond for a moment, then moves over slightly. Ryan sits, watches him apply the polish.
“You’re fucking that up, you know,” he says finally.
Torquemada suddenly shoves his hand into Ryan’s face. “You think you can do better, baby?”
“Maybe.” He gets a mocking laugh. “Nah, I’m serious. Used to do it for Shannon. Give it.” He grabs Torquemada’s hand, snatches the brush out of the other, reaches for the bottle. Miscalculates. Spills it on the sheets.
Torquemada sucks in a breath, pulls his hand away.
“Shit. Sorry.” Ryan scrubs at the stain uselessly.
“Miguelito will be so displeased,” Torquemada notes with what seems like genuine dismay.
“Yeah, well, tell him it’s my fault.”
“He won’t believe you.” He sighs, drags his hands down his face dramatically. “The beatings...”
“Hey, Alvarez doesn’t beat you. Shut up.” Torquemada peeks through his fingers to reveal his good eye, wide and unblinking, and stares at Ryan. “Shit. Does he?” he says uncertainly, before the hand pulls away further to reveal a shit-eating grin. “Man, fuck you. Dick.”
“You’re so gullible. It’s adorable.”
“Fuck you.” Ryan shoves him, and he laughs, collapsing against the end of the bed. “Listen, I wanna ask you something.”
Torquemada readjusts to lean on his elbow, blowing at his half-finished nails. “Ask.”
“That one thing, you said you didn’t want to say out there. What was it?”
He smiles to himself. “Mmm-mmm. You sure you wanna know?”
“Yeah.”
Torquemada pushes himself upright. “A jack in the second row represents homosexuality.”
Ryan stiffens. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshit, I’m afraid.” He holds up two fingers. “And two represents a scandal.” A mock gasp, a little wave of his fingers. “Oooo-ooo.”
“You are such a fucking liar.”
“Maybe. But not this time.”
“Well, it’s all bullshit. Psychics aren’t real,” Ryan concludes. “I ain’t a fag. My dad’s fine.” He pauses. “And Gloria’s gone.” It’s the first time he’s really admitted it to himself since she transferred, and the sense of finality settles on him like a blanket. Doesn’t feel as bad as he thought it might, though.
“Maybe your beautiful love affair is with someone else then, hmm? Anybody you can think of who might fit?” Torquemada bats his eyelashes, and Ryan snickers.
“In your dreams, asswipe.”
“I’ll sleep well tonight, then.” Torquemada kicks him gently. “Now get out. I need to change the sheets before Miguel gets back.” He cocks his head playfully. “Unless you wanna mess ‘em up further? Got an hour or so before lockdown.”
“Gross.”
“‘Right back at you, pal',” he says sweetly.
Ryan heads for the door, then pauses. “Hey, Torquemada,” he begins.
Torquemada yanks the sheets off the bed. “Yes?”
Ryan grins. “You gotta teach me that shit.”
“What? The cards?” He bunches up the sheets, tosses them onto his own bunk. “I don’t know, baby.” He leans against the bunk, looking Ryan up and down. “What’ll you give me for it?”
Ryan rolls his shoulder back and forth on the edge of the pod’s doorframe. “Teach you how to box?” he suggests.
Torquemada laughs, light and musical. “Box? You think I want to know how to box?”
“Yo, what the fuck are you doing?”
Alvarez materialises in the doorway, looking pissed. “The fuck did you assholes do to my bed?” he demands, immediately clocking the black stain. Torquemada looks past him at Ryan. The beatings, he mouths, and Ryan suppresses a grin, turns away.
“See you later,” he manages to choke out, and starts heading back towards his pod.
“Ryan!”
He glances back. Torquemada’s lanky frame hugs the door, Alvarez behind him rustling through the sheets, swearing in Spanish. “See you in the gym tomorrow?” he asks. He bites his lip. “For boxing lessons.” He says it sarcastically, but with a strangely hopeful look in his eyes.
Ryan smiles at him. “Yeah. Sure.”
Torquemada returns the smile, then whirls back around to Alvarez. “Darling! It was him. That nasty horrible man,” Ryan hears him say. He shakes his head and walks off, leaving them to their. Whatever. He still doesn't care.
Psychics aren’t real. His dad’s fine. Gloria’s gone. And he’s not a fag.
Pretty neat trick though, he thinks, and grins to himself.