Chasing Luck (16 page)

“I’m going to die. You know that, don’t you? And if you’re smart, you’ll get as far away from me as you can.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Malerie, baby girl, you know you’re thinking about your dream still, right?”

She only nods but keeps her eyes closed.

“Mal, nobody’s going to die.”

She shrugs off my arm and sits upright, blinks hard and inhales. “Sorry. Go back to bed.”

In spite of knowing it’s the worst move I can possibly make, I scoot closer to her and move a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You sure?”

“Don’t shut my door when you leave.” Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “Please.”

I don’t leave.

“I am not crazy,” she says, her eyes flaring. “I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.” I pull her toward me for a hug and rest my chin on her head. She smells clean and sugar-sweet. Her hair is softer than anything I’ve had in my hands.

I’m suddenly aware of her luscious curves pressed against my chest—firm breasts piqued in hard, perfect points. I’m aroused, as horny as a thirteen-year-old on his first date. Instantly.

I groan into the top of her head. “Mal.”

“Hmm?”

“If you’re all right, I’m gonna head back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

She gives me a final squeeze and nods. “Okay.”

She scoots away and lies back down. The bathroom light is on, but I hope it’s dim enough she won’t see what she does to my body. Shit.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” I make my way to the door and remember to leave it open.

I need to get laid in the worst way. The problem is, I don’t want anyone but her.

“
W
e move
slow and we move fast. Who knows if it will last. Take a ride, girl.” ~ Jelly Bean Queen

“
W
hat the hell is this
?” Ace stomps into the kitchen, barefoot and bare-chested, waving around a piece of purple stationary. His gray sweats hang precariously low on his hips.

I don’t answer but continue to pour coffee into my favorite lilac mug. Next comes sugar. Last comes milk. The first sip burns my tongue, but I don’t mind. I savor this small pleasure he’s taught me. I enjoy the coffee almost as much as the view of his lean body.

The slight indentions on the sides of his muscular hips make me a little swoony.

I blink hard to rid myself of the stray thoughts racing harem-scarem through my mind. “Exactly why were you in my room?”

He doesn’t seem to notice my straying eyes if I judge by his surly expression.

“To ask if you want some breakfast,” he grumbles. “But this was on your night table.”

“That’s private.” I don’t want to defend my list to him. Although we’ve established speaking terms again, I don’t want to tell him because he’s not going to understand my predicament or agree with my plan.

Today is the date on the third box. Tomorrow is the date on the fourth. I’ve walked away from two incidents that should have left me dead. Two incidents that were predicted on the boxes.

Ace doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see how that bombing should’ve killed me. That the gunman who killed JT also shot me.

A threat hangs over my head, a ball ready to drop at the countdown. I know my days are numbered. There isn’t a fifth box. If Teddy’s father is some kind of prophet and my life is tied to the events of each box, what happens at the end?

I’m positive I know.

He straightens and begins to read it to me as if I don’t remember what I’ve written. “Go meet Collin in Chicago. What does that mean? You going somewhere?”

I shrug and turn my back on him. The coffee pot is mostly full, so I grab it to make him a cup. It seems like a logical diversion until he stalks over and takes the pot away from me.

“And how were you getting there? Were you going to tell me?” He slams the stainless steel pot back onto the coffee machine.

“I don’t have to tell you. Your only concern is installing equipment.” It’s a low blow, but I can’t let him talk me out of going to Chicago.

He bristles—his mouth tightens and his hands clench. There’s a slight tic in his jawline. “I’m unpacking that suitcase on your bed,” he says through gritted teeth. He whips around and heads up the stairs.

“Wait.” My feet aren’t moving fast enough to catch up to him.

“You said we’re friends, and friends don’t treat each other like the hired help.” He yells without turning around.

I catch up to him as he flips the suitcase open. He snatches jeans and shirts in piles from the case and deposits them on the bed.

There’s a moment of clarity when I realize he might be able to stop me. It’s not like I can run out of the house and drive away. There are four cars in the garage, and I can’t drive any of them. My fear of leaving this place has crippled me at a time when I have to be self-sufficient. My idea to call a cab to pick me up here in the middle of nowhere or even hire a service seems stupid.

I grab both his hands. He’s holding a stack of my panties and freezes when he realizes, staring down at them awkwardly.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” I clear my throat and give a pointed look at the object in his hands.

Ace drops the wad of silk panties from his grip back into the open suitcase, and I try not to blush. A lacey pink pair and an orange thong rest on top—evidence of my vivid imagination, my unlimited credit, and my addiction to online stores. I didn’t think anyone would ever see them.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and folding his arms. He stares at the pile of undergarments, his lips smashed together in one tight line of disapproval.

“It’s something I need to do for myself,” I answer. “To prove I’m not afraid to go new places.”

I’m helpless in deciphering the box, but going to meet Collin face-to-face is something I can do. He’s the only person I can actually call a friend, besides Ace. And he has Jelly Bean Queen tickets.

My bucket list consists of three items. I only wrote two on the paper.

I attempt to repack the array of underwear he’s strewn across my bed. It’s difficult to sound levelheaded when I’m horrified by the colorful assortment of bras and panties on display.

“I don’t believe you. Or else you’d go anywhere. Your list definitely says it’s to visit Collin.”

“And that’s a problem? I mean, it doesn’t matter to you, does it?” I close the lid of the suitcase and zip it.

He narrows his eyes at me and frowns harder, almost an impossible expression if you’d asked me earlier.

Standing over me and glaring, he asks, “What about the box? I thought we were trying to figure out the meaning of the third box.”

“I was wrong. I’ve read too much into the boxes.”

His suspicious study of me is unnerving. I feel like a bug under a microscope.

“I’ll pack a bag.” Ace strolls to the bedroom door. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He glares at me for another second and leaves.

“
I
don’t see
what’s wrong with my truck,” Ace mutters.

“Nothing. I want to play my music and your vehicle doesn’t have an audio jack. You’ll get comfortable.”

“Like a whore in church,” he says under his breath.

No one has driven the silver Mercedes since JT’s death. We’re on the interstate and I plug in my music player. The music replaces what would surely be silence for the first hour until Ace reaches over to turn it down.

“Can we talk?” he asks without taking his eyes off the road.

“What about?”

“Are you and this Collin guy serious?”

I grimace. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m as serious as venereal disease.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Did anyone ever have
the talk
with you?” he asks in mock seriousness.

I throw a travel pillow at him. “I am not going to merit that with an answer.”

“Hey … driving here. Not cool,” he says, but he’s smiling. “Since you haven’t dated, according to Billy, then I’m assuming JT wasn’t worried about you and guys.”

“JT wanted me to date. But I just … didn’t leave the house much. What about you?”

“What about me?” His eyebrows lower.

“Do you have a girlfriend or anything? Mrs. Prata said you never bring any home.”

“Not that she knows about.” He rubs a hand down the back of his head. He raises one eyebrow at me when he gives me a sidelong glance.

There’s a definite sensation of being kicked in the chest that I fight to disguise. “Oh.” I manage to say the word with an offhandedness I don’t feel.

“No,” he says. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why not?” I’m so relieved the words pop out of my mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that. I’m asking nosey questions.”

“It’s okay.” He gives a shrug. “I date and have a good time. But I’m not boyfriend material.”

“I think you are.”

He frowns instead of acting like I’ve given him a compliment. “You’ve only seen me at my best. Most of the time, I’m surly, anal retentive, and work-obsessed. Plus I can be an ass when I want to get my way.” He leans his head to the side as if thinking.

“I’ll agree with that.”

He laughs, a sudden sound that tickles my insides. “I swear. I love how honest you are.”

“Tell me about college. Didn’t you meet girls in your classes?”

“A few.” He stares ahead and pushes the cruise control buttons. “But I didn’t go to class to meet girls.”

“Yeah. The man has a plan … I know, I know. I just thought there’s probably a lot of, well you know, flirting and stuff in college.”

“Uh hmm.”

“So would you flirt with me if I were in class with you?”

His hands tighten on the wheel. “Exactly what are you asking me?”

“Nothing. I’m just curious.”

He snorts. “I flirt with you now, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought guys flirted with girls to get them into bed.”

“That’s not why I flirt with you.” He shifts a little and glances at me. “You know that.”

“Why not?”

“Why what?” He looks genuinely confused with his creased forehead, as he splits his attention between the freeway and me.

“Why don’t you want to sleep with me? You think I’m unattractive? Or maybe I’m not your type?” I’m surprised by my own boldness and even a little empowered.

“No,” he mutters. “You are not unattractive. And that has nothing to do with it.”

“Of course it does. Have you ever slept with a girl you thought was ugly?”

“Time to change the subject,” he says. “You want to talk about college? Tell me about MIT. What are you going to study?”

I groan. “I told you I’m not going. That was all JT’s idea. He wanted me to go to his alma mater and major in computer science. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He rakes one hand through his hair, spiky pieces standing straight up. “Well, we’re not going to talk about my sexual preferences.”

“I’m only trying to understand guys.” I state this matter-of-factly. The truth is I only want to understand him.

“Men are very simple. You can learn everything you need to know in less than a half-hour.”

“You’re not. You are very complicated.” I nervously tug the edge of my shirt. “And people are never simple.”

“Guys.” He does a little finger drumming on the steering wheel. “Most want to be the best at something. They don’t like to talk all the time. They want to
do
.”

“You know what? Nevermind. I didn’t ask you to reveal your innermost secrets but I also didn’t expect info I can get from an Internet quiz. I thought you might tell me something about you.” I look away from him to the scenery we’re passing.

“That’s not what you said. You asked about guys. About wanting to understand the male species.”

“You’re right. I was digging to understand your philosophy … how you feel about relationships.”

I continue to face away from him. We drive for miles in silence, the music volume low but not off.

“About me, huh? I can’t see myself having a family, kids. I didn’t have a great time growing up.” His words are easy, a factual account, not an emotional one, judging from his tone.

I turn to look at him, but he’s focusing on the road. Nothing about the expression on his face indicates he’s even spoken.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I should have guessed since you mentioned your brother and mother…” My playlist begins to grate on my nerves, the current happy-go-lucky song awkwardly fills this moment. I turn the volume all the way down.

Ace gives me a sidelong glance. “No need to get all sad for me. It’s only a fact. No reminiscing for me about the good old days. I only look ahead.”

He’s a little too blasé about his statements.

“You haven’t mentioned your dad much.” The words are out of my mouth, unchecked. I study his reaction. I’m surprised to see a broad smile blossom.

“My dad was great. He was a Marine.” I can see how proud he is in the last statement. The smile fades a little but not completely. “He died when I was a kid.”

Died.
I lean my head back against the seat. My mother’s face flashes in my mind. And another flash of JT standing up in the restaurant, telling me not to move.

The memories of loss flicker like an old movie reel with cracks in the image and jerky movements. I glance over at Ace, and he presses the blinker to exit the freeway.

“How did it happen?” I ask.

“He was stationed in Afghanistan. Enemy fire. He’d been home for a couple of weeks right before it happened. I was seven.”

“That must’ve been tough on your family.”

He grimaces then. “Yeah, well, for some. Tougher on me and my brother than my mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Back then, she escaped into a bottle. Joe and I had to stick around in the real world.”

I reach over and squeeze his arm. “Oh Ace.” My throat aches from the tension, and I’d give anything to throw my arms around him.

“Time to eat. I’m starving,” he says in a too-happy voice and moves his arm to turn the steering wheel. I allow my hand to drop away and don’t indicate that he’s hurt me with the action. He steers the car into a restaurant parking lot.

“Come on.” In seconds, he’s out of the car and walking to the restaurant door. He waits and opens it for me without making eye contact.

Inside, the restaurant vaguely resembles what I’ve seen of truck-stop scenes in movies. There’s a grocery section at the far side of the room, and a cappuccino and coffee dispenser near our table. I’m too upset over our conversation to complain about his choice in eating establishments.

We sit on the hard plastic bench seats and a waitress takes our order.

“So,” Ace says. “Tell me about this JBQ concert. Number two on the purple pad.” Ace moves the pegs in some sort of wooden triangle game left on the table.

“It’s Jelly Bean Queen. Collin has tickets. They liked the podcast and said we could go backstage.”

“You’re going to a concert.” Ace shakes his head. “I can’t let you go off with some strange guy. This is a big step for you, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Hey. I’ve known Collin for years.”

“Online. Yes, we are talking online. How do you know he’s not some psycho podcast pervert planning your—”

“Could you use a few more Ps?” My joke doesn’t even earn a smile from him. I can understand why he might be concerned. I certainly am—but not about Collin. I’m not sure if I can handle the crowd of a concert.

“I’ll be back. Restroom break.” Ace rises and walks past me to somewhere beyond the restaurant section and shelves of grocery items.

I pull my cell phone out of my bag and see a missed call from Teddy. A loud country song begins to play from a speaker somewhere and I push the button to return the missed call.