The Man Without a Soul by L. Grant Dodge
Sea St. Beach
21  Fortune
While we were making love the moon rose, and afterwards an elongated finger of moonlight fell across the bed, onto our naked selves. I knew I didn’t have long before she got up and went downstairs.
“You wouldn’t consider a second opinion?” I said. “Tarot or tea leaves or something?”
“Stay away from the tarot, Gus,” she said. “Those cards are Fortune’s spies. Every time you pick up a card, Fortune stirs and starts looking in your direction.”
“That’s bad?”
“Sooner or later. If Fortune smiles then you start to climb the wheel. But when you get to the top it just means you’re about to roll right back to the bottom.”
“To take another turn?”
“And fall again. Who needs it? No, the trick is to make Fortune forget all about you.”