Note: All characters are over 18, as stated in this or prior chapters
A Marked Deck: Chapter 3 - The Queen of Hearts
I met Alexander Sharp for the first time in the most ordinary of circumstances, while sat in Starbucks moodily sipping a cappuccino. The drink was nearly cold but I was in no hurry to finish it as I took time to consider my dilemma yet again. I expected my obviously grim mood would have been sufficient to ensure I was left alone but, surprisingly, my gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a male voice.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" he said.
I looked up fully intending to say no, but what I saw stopped me. It wasn't that the man was unusually handsome, although he was. Rather it was something about the way he looked at me with his deep brown eyes which made me mutter vague assent before I went back to staring at my coffee. Despite that I still planned to ignore him but once he had placed his own drink on the table and sat down he spoke again.
"I couldn't help noticing that you look upset. I'm something of a specialist in assisting people with problems. Perhaps I could help you."
I looked up, surprised again. Who did this guy think he was, making personal remarks? I decided that a firm rejection would suffice and if he persisted after that I would leave. His eyes, soft and reassuring, looked back into mine and for some reason all I managed to say was, "Oh, umm, thanks, but surely you don't want to hear about me."
"I'd be honoured to," he said lightly, yet with apparently serious intent. "I'm Alexander Sharp. What's your name?"
Oh my god, this stranger was much too forward. He'd want my phone number next! It was definitely time to get up and go.
"Judy ... Judy Obasi," I said, not moving. He looked thoughtful, as if I had said something significant.
"Please call me Alexander. Hmm, Judy .... Interesting name; that fits," he said.
When he said 'interesting' I assumed he was referring to the contrast between my Nigerian surname and English first name and hastened to explain, although why I felt to need to do so to a complete stranger I couldn't guess.
"I have a Nigerian born father, although he's lived here since he was ten. He's a doctor - a GP in fact. My Mum is English and she chose my first name. I'm called after my Nan ..."
"You misunderstand me," he cut in. "I was thinking that 'Judy' is close to 'Judith' and that supports a theory of mine. Let's test it a little further. My guess is that your troubles are of the romantic relationship kind. Why don't you tell me why such a beautiful young woman as yourself would have that kind of problem?"
This was outrageous. How dare he ask me the most personal questions imaginable when I had known him for less than five minutes! I should ask him to leave me alone and if he didn't then I should go at once ... and yet, he was sitting there looking interested and attentive and I had been driving myself mad with these thoughts for days. It would do me good to tell someone. Perhaps he really could help. And I found myself feeling pleased he had called me beautiful. Normally, I would have regarded that as a huge red flag but for some odd reason from him it felt like a genuine compliment.
Hesitantly at first, then with increasing openness, I told him what was on my mind. The truth is I always seem to fall for the wrong men. Compared to some of my exes, my current boyfriend Tony had not been too bad to me at first. He was good looking, gentle, generous and loving, with only two flaws. One of those, although some would have disapproved, was of no importance to me, namely that he was just about old enough to be my father - 46 years to my 25 to be exact.
The other one was the problem and a big problem at that. He was married with two children and I was the 'other woman', the potential homewrecker, the mistress, the 'bit on the side'. In my defence, I should point out that when we met and started a relationship I had no idea Tony was married. That was probably naΓ―ve of me but he hadn't told me and I had no reason to suspect anything, other than his age I suppose.
By the time I found out the truth I was in love. Because that's me, that's what I always do; I fall madly deeply in love with the wrong men. I felt bad about it, but that didn't stop me wanting him, and he seemed happy to keep seeing me and - I'm being honest here - screwing me, because I wasn't going to say no to the man I loved.
I'm not completely dumb and I realised this couldn't go on as it was and so the question became whether Tony, who was always quick to tell me how much he loved and adored me, was going to leave his wife and children and set up home with me. Slowly the inevitable answer dawned on me that it was not just that he wouldn't, but that he had never had the slightest intention of doing so. I was just an amusing toy for him; a pretty girl who he had used for some fun sex.
At that point I should have hated him, cursed his name and broken our relationship off. That was the least he deserved. Only you can't help who you love - or at least I never can. Hence my dilemma and my misery; I knew what I should do and that even if I didn't there was no future with Tony, but it seemed an impossible agony to do it.
For almost twenty minutes I had poured my heart out to Alexander Sharp and told him everything of my shame and my pain and throughout he said nothing, but listened attentively and looked sympathetic. When I was finally done with my story, accompanied I will admit with more than a dash of self-justification and pity, I expected him to offer me some advice or at least condolences at my misfortune. I feared he might be condemnatory - after all, I had continued the affair after I knew Tony was a married man. But he didn't do any of those things and instead completely surprised me.
"Thanks for confiding in me, Judy," he said. "I think I may be able to help you, but there is one last check I should make." He put a hand in his jacket pocket and drew out a pack of cards. "I'm a professional magician, among other things, and I specialise in card tricks, but this is a particularly special deck." He showed the cards to me and then spread them face down on the table. "Pick any card."
Bewildered as to what this was about and what it had to do with my problem, I nevertheless played along and took a card. It was the Queen of Hearts.
"Thought so," he said, sounding pleased. "Keep the card, it's yours. I can help you. What I need you to do is come and see my show tomorrow night. This is one of my business cards and I'll write the venue name and the time on the back. Don't worry about tickets or paying; I'll sort that out and ensure you're admitted. At that show your problem will end and in a way that will leave you feeling happy - happier than you've ever been before. Now go about your day and stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine."
I got up and left. I wasn't sure why, because I had loads of questions, but it seemed the right thing to do. I had an odd feeling that it was because Alexander Sharp had told me to. And equally strangely, I found I wasn't worrying about Tony any more.
*****
Later, away from Alexander Sharp's influence, I found although Tony was gone from my mind, I was instead worried about whether I should go to this magic show. The obvious answer was no. People don't just offer to solve a total stranger's problems for them. Sharp had to be some kind of fraud or weirdo and I had enough issues already without getting mixed up with him. And yet there was something about him that was attractive, and it wasn't just his good looks and confident manner.
In the end I convinced myself that there couldn't be any harm in going - it was a public place after all - and it would be a free night's entertainment. So the following evening along I went, just as he had told me to. And just as Sharp had promised, I was expected. When I gave my name at the door, I was shown inside at once and even taken to a specific table inside to await the opening of the show.