Chasing Luck (19 page)

Burning flesh assaults my nose, the stench immediate and horrifying. Melting plastic from something above spirals down in a disappearing magic act of flames.

I have to get higher to see everyone. I look up and the DJ in the glass room wipes his face with his knit cap and points at something. A staircase leads to somewhere important. Maybe I can find Ace from that vantage point.

I slam my fists and rake my nails across a guy who attempts to force me to go with him. He’s snaking an arm around my waist when a girl falls at his feet. People step over her without slowing down. She wails and grabs for the guy’s ankles. He picks her up instead and I take the opportunity to wrench myself loose and run. The metal staircase winds up to the glass DJ box and is hotter than a curling iron. My bare feet burn as I run up each step.

I scan the crowd and spot too many blond heads. Then I see someone pushing people out of the way and moving against the crowd, running toward the stairs. Relief floods through me, and I begin to cry. Ace is coming to me.

There’s another loud boom and I turn back to the glass room to my right. The DJ stands ready at the glass booth door and points to a metal handle on the outside. I know from the metal stairs that I’ll burn my hand. I look around frantically for a cloth and down at my dress. I struggle to pull it out far enough to use against the heat.

Another firecracker pop blasts against my eardrum, and I look down at a spray of sparks raining down on the dance floor. All I see is Ace. He looks straight at me, screaming something and running up the stairs. I turn back to the DJ. I can’t leave the DJ in there to burn.

The handle turns against my frantic twist and the door opens. The DJ runs through the door and guides me forward.

Smoke blinds me and I cough, searching for Ace.

The DJ yells, “Go. I need to flip the manual sprinkler switch.”

I nod and make it to the top staircase step where I ram into Ace. His furious face is enough to make me want to run in the opposite direction. Without a word, he picks me up, carries me down the stairs, and pushes his way through the remaining people to get to the front exit.

The sprinkles douse us before we make it out the doors. Water sizzles as it hits the hot metal and wood. The sirens pierce my ears. The smoke smothers my lungs. My lungs burn as if they’ve been seared.

Coughing wracks my lungs, my belly aching from the intensity, my head cottony from the lack of oxygen.

Ace still holds me in his arms, stunned and not speaking.

Firemen direct us away from the building and paramedics meet us on the sidewalk. Ace lets me down from his arms. He doesn’t speak. We’re both shaking and streaked in soot from the smoke. A paramedic tries to separate us until he takes a look at Ace’s face.

Ace is livid, his lips mashed in a tight line, blue eyes glaring at anyone who touches me.

“What did you do?” he says through his teeth. His hands clench and unclench, muscles flexing in his biceps.

I don’t understand what he means, and I put my hand on his arm. For a minute I wonder if he thinks I had something to do with the fire. As if I’d set the fire.

A deep hurt that can only be caused by words slices into my chest.

He grips my shoulders in a tight hold. “Trina said she lost you. That you left her and went outside. Why, Malerie? Why did you do that?”

My mouth opens, but I’m not able to speak. Will he understand I did it for him? That I didn’t know the danger was inside the club?

He pulls me into his arms then and holds me tightly. We’re both shaking and the paramedic puts blankets over us. “Let’s check you both out, okay?” the paramedic says and we follow.

I recognize the DJ the minute he walks up to me. “Found you,” he says.

“Hi. You were looking for me?”

“Wanted to thank you. I wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t saved me.”

I’m embarrassed and look away.

“She’s lucky she didn’t get herself killed,” Ace says under his breath.

The DJ ignores Ace. “The door jammed, and I couldn’t get it to open. I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.” He takes my hand. “Thank you. You saved me and other people in there. I got the sprinkler on before the whole thing went up. Had to do it manually since it malfunctioned.”

I nod. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he says. “You name it.”

“Don’t tell anyone I let you out. I don’t want to talk to the police or reporters about it.”

He looks at me with a confused look on his face. “Okay. If that’s what you want. You saved a lot of people left inside. You saved my life.”

The DJ leans over and kisses my cheek and is gone.

The paramedics release us. I have a text from Collin that I answer to assure him Ace and I are alive and well. I also have a missed call from Teddy.

We get a cab, still not speaking to each other during the entire ride to the hotel.

The doorman doesn’t blink at our disheveled state or my bare feet. In the room, we shower and it’s almost dawn when we crawl into bed. I wonder if he’s even going to touch me when he pulls me across the mattress and tucks me with my back against his chest.

“You said you trust me,” he says, his deep voice holding back emotion.

“I do.”

“Why did you do that tonight? You ask me to take care of you and I try. You betrayed my trust. I’ve let you see me. The real me. But you left the club, and I don’t have any idea why you’d do that and now I can’t trust you, Mal.”

“You don’t understand. I—” I turn to look at him. “The third box predicted something bad would happen last night. I was trying to protect you. To protect everyone else around me.”

“You wanted to be alone? You made the decision to uninvolve me? Just like that.” His voice shakes with anger. “You made the decision to run. Because you were going to die alone to spare me. Ah well, thanks, Malerie.” His sarcastic tone tells me I’ve said the wrong thing.

“I had to stay away to protect you.”

“I don’t know if I can do this. We were facing this together until you decided to be a martyr.”

“I’m so sorry I got you involved.” I face the wall and stare into the darkness, my heart as heavy as a concrete block. The ache of pushing him away is more than I can bear. I thought I’d experienced emotional pain in the past, but losing him feels as though I’m being flayed alive, layers peeled away to leave me raw and bleeding.

He’s become my everything.

“
I
want to not want
. I want to not feel. I want what I’m helpless to stop.”~ Jelly Bean Queen

I
stretch
out my arm to feel for her, but my hand slides across the crisp sheet. I bolt upright at a speed that makes me dizzy. We’re still in the hotel room, she’s still alive, and I blamed her. Blamed her for thinking she’s the cause of all the shit in her life.

I’ve been so caught up in my attraction to her that I forgot about her obsession with the boxes and the timestamps.

The sound of running water in the bathroom hums, so I lie back.

Relax, man. She’s okay.

I place an arm over my eyes and shut them. My mind spins with the ramifications of what went down last night. I’ve denied that the clues on the box were real. I pretended it was all a game. I ignored the fact I have real feelings for her that go beyond physical attraction.

None of it was real until last night.

And she left the club alone. Why?

Because women are like that, I reason. They decide on what they want to do and the hell with what anyone else wants or needs.

I replay the moment in my head when I finally …
finally
…found her and she stood at the top of those stairs trying to get that stranger out of the DJ box. I’m pissed as I was last night just from thinking about how close she came to getting herself killed.

The girl is trying to die. I’ve dealt with one woman who had a death wish, thinking a needle will give her what she needs, and now this one thinks she can save me and everyone else. Even if it means dying in the process.

She’ll have to do it alone. I get the same sick feeling I’d get when my mom brought home some random guy after shooting up. Her bloodshot eyes, twitchy feet, quick smile, and quicker temper flash into my head.

My hands tremble and I roll over, pull the pillow over my head.

Joe’s little face pops into my head. It’s nearly impossible to separate the two lines of memory. Both hurt so much. “Love you, Acky,” he’d say, the name he started calling me when he was unable to say Achilles.

Malerie’s soft voice pops into my brain. She murmured words of love in this bed just yesterday.

I should have whispered those words to her. Instead I said some bullshit about caring for her. Caring, not loving.

She could’ve died without knowing that. I break out in a sweat.

I am in love with her.
The truth whips me like a lash across the back, sharp and biting. I remove the pillow and sit up. I have to quit pretending I don’t need anyone. I need her.

If she rejects me, I’ll still love her. If she lies to me, hurts me, or runs from me, I’ll love her. It’s not something I can stop.

“Malerie,” I call toward the bathroom. I get to my feet and go to the door.

I knock twice, a sound so loud in the noiseless hotel room. There’s no water running. I must’ve heard water in the pipes next door.

I open the door and the lights are on but it’s empty. Her suitcase lies on the floor of the huge bathroom and I look to see if I can tell anything from it. The red dress from last night is in the trash. She’s brought enough clothes to wear for a week, so that tells me nothing.

The box—that damned box—sits on top as if she’s had it out recently.

I’m a man unhinged as I search the rest of the suite for a sign of where she’s gone. I even go down to the ice machine to check it and end up slamming my fist against the steel door, leaving a satisfying dent in the metal front.

That’s when I realize she’s gone. She left. I call her cell only to leave a couple of voicemails. I stop myself because that’s fruitless.

Call me. Call me. I’m sorry I acted the way I did. Call me.

I glance at the clock and break out in icy chills when I see the time. How much time have I spent pacing the room and hoping she didn’t go far, like that day in the hotel in San Francisco?

The clock is ticking, and I don’t know where she is. I throw on some clothes and search the hotel, only to finally ask for help from a very unhelpful concierge, and then approach the reservations desk. I’ll search the whole city if I have to, but I’m afraid I’ll miss her if she returns.

“I need to keep my room for a few more nights,” I say, handing over my credit card. “And I’m leaving the hotel but I need to leave a message for my girlfriend.”

The clerk smiles, punches some keys on the computer, and looks back up. “The room’s been paid for in advance.”

“Okay.” I turn to leave. “Please let her know she needs to call me immediately. That I’m worried and looking for her.”

The desk clerk types the message on her screen. “Mr. Sloan? Oh, wait,” she says. “There’s a note I didn’t see. Miss Toombs left an envelope for you.”

Cold fingers of pure terror close around my windpipe. I struggle to stay calm. The clerk opens a drawer and withdraws a key. “I’ll be right back.”

I tap my fingers on the counter and sweat like I’m in line for a death sentence.

“Here you go. There’s probably a message by now on your phone with instructions on how to pick up this envelope, but you can ignore—”

“Thanks,” I say and turn without letting her finish.

It’s a hotel envelope stuffed full with something but I only hope she’s left me a note on where to find her. I open it to find a wad of cash and no note.

Damn it. She thinks I want her money?

But I made her think from the beginning that my goal in life is to make the dough. Made her think money means more to me than honor and relationships. I stare at the cash and one bill falls away to drift back and forth like a feather before landing on the marble floor.

“Sir.” The concierge hands me the bill. It’s a one-hundred-dollar bill. Crisp and new as if it were printed yesterday. “Can I help you with something?”

“No,” I answer. I want to fling the envelope on the lobby floor, but I need to be smart. It may take cash to find her.

I suddenly recall Teddy’s missed call from yesterday.

Teddy.

I glance at the time and pray—really pray for maybe the first time in my whole life—that he is still at his store since it’s the only number I have.

When he picks up on the third ring, I slow my pace as I walk through the revolving door of the hotel. “Teddy, it’s Ace.”

“Hi. I was wondering what’s going on there.”

“Why is that?”

“I talked to Malerie earlier. You are with her, aren’t you?”

I rub my chest. Pain scissors around inside me, most likely cutting off my blood supply because this whole thing isn’t hard enough yet. I’m too damn young to have a heart attack, but you never know.

“Teddy—no,” I growl. I steady my breathing and lower my voice. “Do you know where she is? We’re in Chicago, and she ran out on me.”

“I don’t know. She finally called me last night. I gave her what I found—a log on a disk. I guess my father kept a journal. I searched for John Toombs and bingo, found a mention of the dreams, the boxes, and a series of ten numbers. It took me a while to find it because the order was over twelve years old. That’s a long time to save a gift.”

“What do the numbers mean?”

“Not sure.”

“Do you think they mean something to Malerie?”

“She didn’t seem to know either, but she wrote them down.”

“I need the numbers you gave her. Can you text them to my phone?”

“Sure. What else can I do to help?” Teddy’s calm voice centers my racing thoughts.

“Search online for Malerie’s podcast. Find her co-host. Collin. Email, call, do whatever you can to contact him and give him my cell number.” I run to the door. “Tell him it’s an emergency and to call me. I need help finding Malerie.”

“Good luck,” Teddy says.

I hang up without responding to that bit of advice. I’ll find her without needing luck because I will search every street and building within a ten-mile radius and then move out farther. After the airplane drama, I know she hasn’t hopped on a flight. She doesn’t drive, so there’s no fear that she’s rented a car.

Failing her isn’t an option.

My phone buzzes with Teddy’s text. Eight numbers. I stop on the sidewalk to study them. Eight numbers to the fifth decimal place and I’m worried I’m looking at meaningless strings of digits.

Malerie figured out the Moon language code. If the numbers do mean something, she’s figured it out by now. Perspiration wets my hairline.

Another text comes in from Teddy. “The numbers are paired. First two together, second two, etc.”

Shit. As if that makes a difference to me. I start walking again and look inside the restaurant next door to the hotel. I wish I had Malerie’s photo to show people. On a whim, I type in the podcast name and pull up a profile.

Like magic, Malerie’s and Collin’s faces appear in a postage-sized box on my phone’s browser. I race into the restaurant and show a hostess the image. She hasn’t seen anyone who looks like Malerie. I go into the next shop, a clothing store, and the restaurant beside it and want to bash in a wall when I realize I won’t get anywhere like this.

I need to be smarter. My phone rings and I glance at the unknown number.

“Hello.”

“Hey. Is this Ace? This is Collin.”

“Man, I am so happy to hear from you. Malerie’s missing and I need help. You haven’t talked to her, have you?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Did you two fight?”

“No. Well, I … I was a jackass. And now I need to find her. So, you know where she is?”

“Yeah, bro. She went to the JBQ concert.”

I’m confused and angry and glad. I’m the trifecta of emotional overload. The girl brings it all out in me, and I don’t know what to do with it. The best medicine will be taking her in my arms and never letting her go.

“Great. Tell me the location?” I stop my frenzied race down the sidewalk I didn’t realize I’d continued.

Collin calls off an address, and I nod like he can see me. He tells me to remember to get the backstage pass from the concert window and give him a call if I need help. I’m so damn happy to know where she is that I think I might start whistling a happy tune.

I’ll make up everything to her. I said I’d been real before, but it was a lie. The real me wants to stand by her side and make her understand she’s not getting rid of me.

“
I
’m telling you
. My girlfriend has a ticket for me here.” People are lined up behind me at the ticket window.

“Sir, everyone says that. I do have Malerie Toombs on my list. Your name is not on the list. She did pick up a ticket, but I cannot give the remaining ticket to you if your name is not on the list.” The grandma type seated on the other side of the ticket window looks past my shoulder at the impatient guy waiting his turn.

“Move along, dude. She says you don’t have a ticket.” The guy with multiple piercings folds his arms and steps closer.

I turn back to the window and urge my brain to improvise. “Listen. You look like a nice lady. I really have to get that ticket. It’s very important.” I’m not above begging at this point.

The guy behind me is so close I swear he’s gonna kiss my neck. There’s a nasally sound as he spits a nasty-ass glob onto the concrete beside us. I toss a steely glare over my shoulder and he moves back with a sigh.

“And I am a nice lady, but I’m going to get security over here if you don’t move from this line,” she says.

I detect a slight air of pity in her tone. I reach one hand forward on the counter. “I love this girl and I messed up. But I can’t let her think I don’t care. Haven’t you ever messed up and needed a chance to be honest about how you feel?”

A flicker of sympathy lights her eyes.

Mr. Impatient Dude behind me leans in. “Aw … Grandma, please give him the ticket so we can all get our tickets?”

“I need to see your identification,” the older woman says. I push it into the tray underneath the glass and she doesn’t actually look before returning it with a ticket.

“Next,” she says.

I grab the ticket and run. The front doors are thick with building security checking purses and people. It’s difficult to hide my anxiety and desire to run past them into the building. My phone vibrates with a call.

I recognize Teddy’s number. “Hello.”

“Ace? Teddy.”

“Yeah. I’ve found her. Thanks for your help earlier.”

“I forgot something important.”

I stop in my tracks. An uneasy premonition of bad news crawls around in my head. “What, Teddy?”

“The UNIX timestamp. You know there’s forty-five minutes until the time on that fourth box?”

The premonition sinks its teeth into my chest. “Teddy, what was the image on that fourth box?”

“A temple.”

“What else?”

“Some people are lying around dead like it’s a temple in a war zone.”

I press END and stare at my screen. I pull up Teddy’s text again and stare at the numbers. On a hunch, I search the last two numbers in the list.

I hope I’m wrong. If I can be wrong, please let it be now.

The phone shakes in my hands as I pull up the GPS app and enter two sets of numbers. The longitude and latitude of the arena where I stand.

Fuck me.

The numbers are GPS coordinates. It’s obvious my brilliant Malerie figured that out already, or she wouldn’t be here without me.

I pull up my call log and dial Collin. “Hey, Ace here. I need your help. It’s a matter of life and death.” I grimace at the clichéd truth.

“What do you need? It’s yours.”

“Can you come to the concert? I’m going to carry her out of this place, kicking and screaming if I have to. I need you to take her and make sure she is okay. Come to the west doors.”

“All right. That’s a weird request and she’s gonna be pissed as hell, but I said anything so I’m heading out the door.”

“I owe you,” I answer.

“Yes. Twice you’ve said that and I’m counting.”

I click off and glance at my watch. Thirty minutes before all hell breaks loose if last night is an indication of things to come. The crowd is thick with fans buying drinks and programs. I weave to the backside of the stage and stop when a security guard stops my way through a door.