Chasing Luck (11 page)

"It could be difficult to tell you very much. We have a very simple inventory system at the store. We take specialty orders all the time. Give me his name. I can look in the customer database and see what comes up.” Teddy takes another sip from his glass.

“His name is—was—John Toombs.”

"Do you have an approximate year when you received them?"

"Yes. This month.”

Teddy nodded. "I'll put some notes into my phone and see what I can find tomorrow. Give me a number where I can reach you and I'll give you a call if anything turns up. You never know what I might be able to find in our system."

“There’s also a fraction at the bottom. It says 1/1. What does that mean?”

“There’s only the original,” answers Teddy.

We order our food when the waiter arrives and then Ace quizzes Teddy about the shop. General information that I can’t concentrate on since my mind keeps wandering back to the moment on the sidewalk. Had Ace felt anything at all?

Does he think of me as a neurotic basket-case
?

"If it was purchased that recently, I should recognize it and I don’t. Can I see the photographs again?" Teddy asks. "My father has been dead for years, and now we mainly reproduce his work or take commissions from other artists.”

I pull up the image folder on my phone and hand it to Teddy.

“Are these the only shots you have of the boxes?” Teddy squints at one of the photos on the small screen.

I take the phone he passes across the table. “No. If you give me your email, I’ll send you more close-up shots.”

Teddy gives me his email address and puts the photos away. “My dad was a little eccentric.” He smiles sadly. “He actually said he knew the tragedy of 9/11 was going to happen."

"Knew how?" I ask.

"He had dreams that year. We kiddingly talked about Joseph's coat of many colors and how Dad was like Joseph in 2001." Teddy smiles and shakes his head with a fond smile.

"Joseph?" Ace raises his eyebrows.

"From the Bible. Yeah. You know the story, right?" Teddy takes a sip of wine.

I finally look at Ace. "Joseph had dreams that his brothers would bow down to him. When he told them, they threw him in a pit. And then it came true. Right, Teddy?"

"That’s the story. So we talked a lot about my father's dreams. We said maybe he was like Joseph."

"What kind of dreams? Prophetic ones? He dreamed about the planes hitting the towers?" Ace asks.

"No. Not that specific. Dad said he dreamed a disaster would happen and it would kill a lot of people. He was distraught over it for days before it happened. Mom told him if it was meant to be, he couldn't do anything to stop it. That it wasn't his burden. He said there had to be a reason for the knowledge. It really weighed on him." Teddy shakes his head. "I thought he was going a little crazy and then it happened. It scared the crap out of me."

My stomach bottoms out. Prophetic dreams. "There’s something else about my boxes. There's a number on each one. I think it's a date and time stamp."

"No. My dad didn't date his work." Teddy shakes his head to assure me, but then his eyebrows lower. "Why do you think it's a date?"

I hesitate for a split second. If I say it, will it make it true? "The first box, the largest box, has a UNIX computer stamp on it. It translates to the date and time for something that happened to me as a child. I think the event predicted on the second box occurred a little over a week ago. And I think the third box has something on it that hasn’t happened yet. The date is three days from today."

No one says a word and Teddy rubs both hands over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

His apology feels fatal.

“
Y
ou love
my body and my soul is jealous.” ~Jelly Bean Queen

I
hate
the look on Malerie’s face. If I could do something to stop the emotional bloodletting, I would. Fear pours from her, and I need to staunch the flow.

“Teddy, come on man. You don’t really want to scare Malerie, do you?” It’s a rhetorical question and Teddy should reassure her now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits there with a shit-just-hit-the-fan look on his face.

One grim corner of Teddy’s mouth lifts. “Sorry.”

“You’re not following my plan to keep Malerie calm.” I inhale through my nostrils and rake my hand down the back of my neck.

“Hey. It’s not his fault,” Malerie says. “I knew it was going to be bad. I was prepared for this.” She shrugs and places her hand on his arm.

It amazes me that she’s trying to reassure him when it should be the other way around.

Teddy covers her hand with his. “My dad knew things. But that doesn’t mean something bad will happen to you. What does the box say again?”

“Blaze,” Malerie answers.

“That’s not necessarily bad.” Teddy nods and looks from her to me. “Right?”

“Not the trend so far.” Malerie takes her hand from his arm and rubs her finger along the edge of her plate. The only sign of her distress appears when she bites her perfectly pink bottom lip. I have to force myself to stay where I am. My arms itch to pull her into me. I’d kiss that lip until she forgot all her worries.

I give myself a mental shake. “Come on, people. We have a head start on this. We have all the clues.”

“Yeah. This could be good, really.” Teddy stabs a piece of steak.

“That’s what I’m talking about. A little positive attitude here.” Thank God she looks relaxed. “We need some answers about the boxes. Can we figure out anything—a location, a secret meaning, a building?” I ask Teddy.

Teddy chews his steak and I patiently wait for the miraculous answer that will solve everything. “Nope. Can’t help with that.”

My hopes dash to the pit of my stomach. “Give us something. What about your mother? Maybe she can help us. Do you think your dad told her something?”

Teddy gives a consolatory funeral smile. “She passed on a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, Teddy. I’m so sorry.” Malerie frowns, her eyes soft and understanding.

If they don’t stop touching each other, I’m going to go apeshit ballistic, pull her to my side of the seat, put my arm around her to mark my territory. Are they best friends now after a couple of conversations? I’m bothered I even care.

I clear my throat to stop this ridiculously tender moment. “There’s got to be someone else we can ask. We have three days.”

“I need to look at the box again. May I see the photos again?” Teddy asks.

Malerie pulls her phone from a pocket and locates the photos. “Here. This is a shot of the largest box.” she says and hands it to him.

It’s like no one is breathing while he studies the screen. Teddy’s eyebrows lower and he looks concerned. “The things in a circle on the side of the temple. They’re bats.”

“So?” I take the phone from Teddy and look for myself. “They don’t look like anything to me.”

“The symbol in the middle is the Chinese symbol for longevity. There’s five bats circling the symbol. It’s a common motif.” Teddy studies the phone display, and then hands it back to Malerie. “It’s called the five good fortunes.”

“Good fortune for me?” There’s a hopeful lilt to Malerie’s voice.

“Not necessarily.” Teddy says. “Only telling you what’s on the box. And there are four?”

“Yes,” Malerie and I answer in unison.

I nod to him. “Four nested boxes.”

"Four is unlucky in Chinese." Teddy says. "Like how we think about the number thirteen."

Great. Did he have to keep adding these commentaries that make my head ache?

Time to divert from this line of gloom and doom. "How do you know so much about the Chinese culture?" I ask.

"My grandmother is Chinese. Plus, if you live in San Francisco, you learn a lot whether or not you're Chinese."

“My mother was Chinese.” Malerie is ecstatic now. There’s this off-the-charts happiness as she tells Teddy all the things she remembers from her childhood. They exchange phone numbers and act like long lost cousins, which bugs the hell out of me.

Teddy and I grab for the bill folder. I don’t need a free ride from a guy I barely know, a guy we asked for help. “Got it,” I say, even though I’ve got to be bumping the credit limit on my card. “Thanks for talking with us.”

Us. He’s chatted up Malerie for the last half-hour. And the girl hasn’t talked this much the entire time she’s known me.

We’re in front of the restaurant when Teddy takes Malerie’s hands in his. "I'm sorry for what is happening to you. I'll do whatever I can to help. I'll go back through our records at the store. I have four sisters. Maybe one of them will know something."

Malerie beams at Teddy.
Has she ever looked at me that way?

"I know you are going to think of something. I can't thank you enough," Malerie says.

Teddy weaves his way into the crowd and disappears.

I put my hand on Malerie’s back and resist the urge to put my arm around her. "Let's get back to the hotel."

“Sure. I can’t wait to get into bed.”

Bed.

She doesn’t have a clue how much I wish that were an invitation.

T
he hotel hallway
is long and deserted. We walk in silence to her room where she stands holding the door key. In keeping with the antique feel of the other furnishings, there are no plastic cards you magically wave across the reader. Malerie holds an old-timey gold key.

“You going to be good down here by yourself?” I wish the hotel had put me in a room closer to hers.

“Sure,” she says without looking at me. She attempts to insert the key twice before she gets the door unlocked.

The curtains are closed in the room, so I lean in and flip the switch. “It all looks okay.”

She doesn’t respond and inches into the room. I walk ahead and turn on another light, remembering that she keeps a lot of lights on in every room.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

I give a quick nod and I’m gone. She’s a grown, capable woman. And far too pretty to be alone in a hotel room with me.

Back in my room, I step into the hot shower and do my best to clear my mind. A bathroom is a bathroom, but this place has some nice shit. There’s even a heated towel rack I mentally add to the “things I’ll have someday” list.

I stay under the steamy water too long and find a fogged mirror when I step out. I’m wiping it down when I hear a rap at my door.

Water’s dripping into my eyes and I rub the towel over my head once more before draping it around my waist and opening the door.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

Malerie stands in the hallway in the sort of tiny pajama shorts and tank girls seem to make so sexy. Is she trying to push me over the brink of nice-guy sanity?

“I can’t sleep.” She shoves bangs out of her eyes, and I can’t stop noticing she’s not wearing a bra.

I adjust the towel around my waist. “Try harder.” If she sticks around long, the towel and I are parting ways.

“I heard your television. I thought I could watch TV with you.” Her voice is soft and pleading. Her bottom lip trembles slightly before she bites it. She’s nervous.

“Mal, I was in the shower.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She says this as if it’s not obvious. “Can I come in?”

In a nanosecond, my mind flashes to a visual of us both in the shower. “No.”

“Why not?” She looks bewildered, the corners of her mouth turning down and a disbelieving pucker on her brow.

I exhale and step aside. “For a minute.”

I grab my clean clothes and step back into the bathroom. My jeans stick to my damp skin as I tug them back on. Three seconds later, I’m back out to discover she’s propped on my bed watching TV.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I grab the remote and click it off.

“Hey,” she protests. “What’s the big deal?”

“I want to go to bed.”

“Me, too,” she says and I almost growl.

At her expression, I tone down my anger. “This isn’t a slumber party.” And she is such an innocent. With any other girl, I’d assume she’d come down for other things. “Why can’t you sleep?” I ask.

“I have … well, I have bad dreams.” She fidgets now and her face is flushed.

“Your room has a sitting area, right?”

“Yes.”

I rub a hand over my head. “Let’s go to your room.”

For such a little thing, her legs seem to stretch out forever as she unfolds them and rises from the bed. I grab a shirt and pull it on. “Let’s go.”

She nods and opens my door.

“And Malerie.”

“Huh?”

“Quit running around half-naked.”

She does a funny little salute and rolls her eyes. The girl should wear a sign that says, “Little Miss Clueless.”

I follow Malerie down the hall. Her room matches mine except it’s a larger version. I walk to the closet and open it.

“Mind if I grab a pillow?”

She shakes her head and makes her way over to the sofa.

“No, you don’t, sweetheart. That’s my bed.”

Malerie sits on the chair instead. “You could’ve worn pajamas to my room if you planned on sleeping here. You should be comfy since this is my fault.” She waves a hand at the sofa.

“I sleep the way I was born. Unless you’re asking me to strip.”

Her face reddens. “Well, no … of course that’s not what I meant.”

My laugh makes her blush harder. “Joking.”

I toss the pillow to one side of the sofa. The firm cushion doesn’t give underneath my weight, and I’m wondering if the sofa is a foldout.

She rises from the chair and clasps her hands in front of her. I’m glad she’s uncomfortable. I don’t have any girls for friends and don’t know how to do this. It’s near-to-impossible not to look at her without thinking of ways to get her clothes off.

I hate being weak.

A
moaning sound wakes me
. It takes me several seconds after opening my eyes to remember where I am. The lights are on, the TV is off, but I still hear something. My back protests when I move from the jacked-up position I’ve slept in for hours.

How had I gotten into this job? And then I remember the money. Money, the root of all evil. Or was it the love of money? Yes, that was it. Well, I don’t love money, but I need it. And this girl needs me.

Malerie sleeps in a tight fetal ball on the wingback chair beside the sofa. Holy hell. What was she thinking? She moved from a nice comfortable bed to sleep in a chair a foot from me. Her chocolaty hair spills around her face and I brush it aside.

She makes a whimpering sound. Her eyes flutter open and the look in her eyes drives a spike into my chest.

Terror radiates from her like a sonic blast. “Sweetheart,” I say as calmly as possible. Like I’m talking to a skittish cat. “It’s me. We’re in the hotel.”

She chokes for a second and I wait for her to wake up fully.

"I was going to put you in bed. You should go sleep in there. I’ll be a few feet away for the rest of the night. I won't leave."

“Come with me,” she whispers. “Or let me stay here. I won’t make a sound. I promise. Please.”

Her last words twist my insides. What terror in the night makes someone like Malerie beg? I hold out my hand to her and she obediently stands. Her shaky fingers slide into mine and I grip them tightly. “Come on. You’ll rest better in your bed.”

The queen-sized bed isn’t going to be big enough. I need to be on one side of this bed and her a couple of feet over. I have a king in my room. Was the smaller bed a trade-off for the sitting area?

I give her a gentle push toward the edge of the bed and make my way to the opposite end. As soon as I lie down, I see this is going to be the longest night of my life. Her body is inches from mine instead of feet. With an arm flung above my head, I sense she’s watching me.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask.

“Not really.”

“Might help. Sometimes you have to get stuff out of your head to prove it’s not real.”

I roll onto my side and she does, too. The light’s still on in the sitting area and I can see all her beautiful features. Her dark lashes. A tiny scar beside her eye. The perfect shell of her ear that she uncovers by tucking her hair back.

My hands long to cup her face between them and bring her mouth to mine. But I don’t move. Because if I move, I won’t stop at a kiss.

Instead, I give her a grin. “Tell me a bedtime story, prin…” I remember just in time that she doesn’t want me to call her that. “Mal. Tell me what scares a badass girl like you.”

Her lashes lower and open slowly like she might be falling asleep as we talk.

“I have a dream about the bombing. I’m back there, trapped.”

“I figured that was it. But that won’t happen again. You survived.”

“Yeah. I know. I think I know.” Her eyes close. “It’s only when I’m asleep that I’m not sure. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely. That’s when you can’t control things.”

“I know, right?” She scoots closer and I resist the urge to move.

Would I move away or toward her? I’m not sure. “What happens when you’re trapped? In your dream?”

Hair falls across her eyes and I sweep it away. There’s footsteps and talking in the hallway and we both stop talking to listen.

My steady breathing matches hers and there’s this intensity like we’re linked in thought. I nod for her to continue.

“Well … I’m trapped under the concrete and it’s dark. It’s dark forever. And then there’s noise. So much noise, I think I might die from the force of it.” Her voice strains with each word.

“You don’t have to tell me…” I don’t want her to fall apart. I was wrong to ask her to talk. Her dream is vivid and I can see how much she remembers.

“And then I open my eyes and there’s a woman’s face.”

“Someone’s looking at you in your dream?”

“No.” Her brows lower. “No. Her head’s smashed in and she’s dead.”