Tower, Reversed — XOXO: A Short Story
Some things aren’t in the cards… but posting my first fictional piece on here definitely was. Grab a cup of tea and dive into Lauren’s snarky world of tarot and tiramisu.
The following is a short story I wrote a few weeks prior to beginning my Substack journey. During this time, I was missing my writing days, and this was my first attempt to dipping my toes back in. Months and Substack articles later, I revisited it and decided this deserves a place on my Substack. So here is my first fictional piece — let me know what you think!
“Tower in reversed — you will not be comped tonight.”
The steam coming from this middle-aged brunette (we’ll call her Karen)’s eyes could’ve melted all the snow in the city. She stabbed her (apparently) subjective “medium well” steak and forced it into her cracked crimson lips. Instant karma in every bite. Somehow her allergy to any steak with pink in it dissipated magically, and she finished her dinner with a smile that her Cabernet had repainted her lips.
Another satisfied customer.
I spin around as Brian is raising his head in my direction.
“And what card do you have for me tonight?” He beckons, rolling up the sleeves of his navy suit. The navy really brought out the blue in his eyes. He was always dressed so pristine, but for some reason there was a scuff of dirt on his left dress shoe. Typical Brian. I guess there really isn’t such a thing as an absolutely perfect man.
“The cards say you will have the chicken piccata with a side balsamic salad and roasted potatoes,” I sneer, grabbing the cards back out of my apron pocket.
“The cards are wise tonight,” he smiles as I shuffle.
“Five of swords reversed? Bry-Bry, what’s wrong? You’re not walking away from that fancy paying job of yours, are you? I can’t lose my best tipper!”
He laughingly rolls his eyes. “You know I was really hoping tonight would be the night you pull the lovers card for us, and we can stop doing this back-and-forth dance.”
I close my eyes and focus deeply. “Ah, Bry-Bry, I see now! The five of swords is in the reverse for you because I am walking away from this deeply uncomfortable conversation to get your piccata.”
“Don’t forget the tiramisu!” He called after me.
“When have I ever?” I teased walking back into the kitchen.
I log into the POS and begin punching in his order. By now, I could do it with my eyes closed. My manager glances over my shoulder, “Ah, Brian’s here again?”
I pretend to be shocked. “How did you know?”
“You know, I wonder if he would still come in everyday if you stopped working here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What, Jerry? Are you going to finally fire me?”
“I should for the way you scare all my customers with your voodoo!”
“Yeah, well my voodoo just got the table eleven Karen to shut up and not send her steak back.”
Jerry’s eyebrows legitimately went up to his forehead. “You got Mrs. Wilson to not send her food back?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? It just wasn’t in the cards for her today.”
“Yeah, well, you better chill out on it before Clarissa gets back, or she might have you fired.”
“But then you can tell her how I got Mrs. Wilson to behave?” I pressed.
Jerry threw his hands up. “I’m staying out of this, Lauren! Now, get that man his piccata!”
I hit send on the system and go into the back where his order is already steaming hot at the window. Every weekday at 5pm. Just. Like. Clockwork. Truly, the POS was just a formality at this point. But we always knew, we were always prepared.
“Thanks, Ronnie!” I yell out to the kitchen chef, throwing the food on my tray.
“Always happy to give you some meat,” Ronnie perks back with a sinister smile. Literally, why do I still work here?
I place the food down in front of Brian. “How do you guys do it so fast every time? The cards tell you I was coming?”
I scrunched my nose. “Yeah because I’m definitely pulling my cards trying to predict the next time I’ll see you.”
“Bet if I came in ten minutes late, it’d screw up your whole day,” Brian joked.
“Not really, but your food would be ten minutes cold — and we don’t microwave.”
“Thanks, Lauren!” He said, digging his entree fork into the salad. Truly, when will he learn? Not that I care all that much. I remember my first day — my trainer had brought out a soufflé and he asked me to grab a spoon for it — a seemingly easy request for a nervous girl’s first day followed by the tantrum of a thirty-five year old woman who was in absolute dismay that I had brought her a soup spoon to eat her soufflé with! Can’t you just imagine the horror?
All my tables are either eating away or sitting with checks that were paid an hour ago, so I hop on top of the cooler, criss-cross apple sauce, and take my long awaited scroll break. The truth is: dealing with all these adult children and “flirty” men really takes the wind out of me. Sometimes I have to forget I know how to speak the English language and scroll endlessly until my mind catches up to the void I feel inside my soul.
Kidding!
I scroll past a video of a puppy eating ice cream — adorable, an elderly woman coloring like a kid again — wholesome, and a recipe for my crab Rangoon lasagna — delicious! I save the recipe, knowing damn well I’ll never return to it. But that’s the fun part about the scroll. Trying to imagine yourself living and being as all the people you compare yourself online to, and then knowing damn well you’re going to just return to your miserable serving job until your pores permanently smell like grease and Parmesan.
I come across an article — INVESTIGATING MURDER OF WOMAN, 27, ON POND RIDGE RD. The hairs on my arms and neck raise. Pond Ridge Road? Isn’t that two streets over? A quick Google search confirms that I am indeed currently in the backyard of a murder investigation. I read on:
Tuesday afternoon at 3:57 PM, police were called onto the scene of a young woman found lying behind some trash cans on the edge of the local park. Witness reports called the police after hearing screams coming from beyond the playground. The park is currently evacuated and blocked off until the investigation is concluded.
Witnesses report the body was found alone with no suspect in sight, however there was a man in a suit headed down the other side of the road. Witnesses say he was too “professionally dressed, pressed and cleaned” to be named a suspect, but police are seriously considering all their options.
The woman is not being identified to the public as of yet, but reports say she was found with XOXO carved into her forehead.
We are updating this live as the investigation continues.
And you see? This is why young people don’t read the news. It’s too depressing. The girl was my age, and if I had any friends, I’d probably be spiraling over the identity. But instead I’m making mental plans to have Ronnie walk me out to my car tonight — after all, there’s nothing scarier than his delusional ego.
That’s enough scrolling than I can stomach now. I throw my phone back in my apron and hop off the cooler back into the Wild West of my section. Jerry side eyes me, “Where did you disappear to?”
“Did you hear a girl got murdered at the park like a hour ago?”
“Lauren, how did you not hear the sirens go by? They just showed the story on the news about a minute ago.”
“I was probably in my voodoo realm at the time, channeling. Maybe I picked up on her spirit!”
Jerry sighed, helplessly. “If you picked up on her spirit, wouldn’t you have known someone died.”
“That’s a good point, actually.”
“Lauren, just go check on your tables. I think Brian is almost finished.”
I grab his tiramisu from the counter and place it in front of him with the check. “You know, we actually made this fresh today.”
“You mean to tell me it’s not always fresh?” Brian raises an eyebrow.
“You mean to tell me you eat it everyday and haven’t noticed the difference yet?”
Brian closed his lips tight and pondered for a moment on how he could be so cluelessly oblivious. “You know, I really should lighten up on your tip with every snarky comment.”
“That’s fine. I can tell Rachel to take care of you next time,” I shrug.
He looks over to the airhead — I mean, red-head gossiping at the host stand about some pointless celebrity rumblings. “You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, but I am Bry-Bry. She could be your new girl. She can keep you up to date on every Justin Bieber move there is,” I said wide-eyed, nodding like I was absolutely going to hand over the man keeping my rent paid to a big-mouthed airhead. Red-head! Darn it, I did it again.
He slipped his card into the tab. “She wouldn’t keep me as excited,” he said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes and ran off to run his card. Truthfully, Brian wasn’t awful. Except for the fact that he ordered the exact same meal at the exact same time every weekday like some kind of psychopath. How he doesn’t get sick of the same routine is beyond me. But if I had daddy issues, I would be all over him. He always looked so handsome in his suit. And I’d be remiss to say I hadn’t dreamt of someone like him whisking me away from my tables and taking care of me. But unfortunately for me, I don’t want my children to one day refer to their father as grandpa and that’s enough of an ick to get me to stay away.
“Tomorrow at five?” I ask cheerily, handing him back the tab.
He scribbles onto the receipt. “It’s a date!”
He hands me the book and walks out of the restaurant. I open the tab and for once I’m not staring at the $50 tip on the $20 check —
but the ‘XOXO’ he scribbled on the signature line.
My heart sinks.
Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!
XOXO, Aerin (;
