Jinx'ing Your Future

by Bo Reid

  "That's no problem ma'am," I tell her and take the leash that she hands over to me.

  "How far, or how long?" I ask.

  "Five laps around the block, or forty-five minutes, whichever you hit first. Sometimes she likes to jog but try not to let her because she pulls, and keep her leash tight, if she gets loose she is a monster to catch," she tells me before patting the dog on the head.

  Koda and I set off down her front steps and head down the block.

  "Okay Koda, here's the deal, no pulling, but we can power walk, and I'll give you the full forty-five minutes even if it means extra laps, deal?" I offer her, and she snorts what I'm going to take as her agreement to the deal.

  I pick up my pace just a little bit, enough to get us moving faster, but not enough that it’s a jog, just a short power walk. We make it around the block six times, and we're about to head back to her house for the last five minutes of our walk when the worst possible thing that could happen, happens.

  Koda sees a squirrel, and before I can even comprehend what she's doing, she takes off in a full out Huskey-dog-sled-pulling run, ripping the leash right out of my hand.

  "Koda, no!" I yell and instantly start to chase after her.

  I guess I will be jogging today after all.

  The squirrel goes up a tree but then jumps from one to another, heading down the block, and of course, Koda goes after it.

  "Koda stop!" I yell, I am not equipped to handle this, and I cannot lose someone's dog. Did you see that little girl? God, I can't be the reason her dog doesn't come home in the next five fucking minutes.

  I chase Koda down the street, as she chases the squirrel, I'm yelling her name like a madwoman. Trying to say "no" in every language I can think of including German, French, and Polish; I don't even know if I'm saying it right or not but it's worth a shot. You would think though if her commands were in a different language, they would have told me.

  Finally, I see her stop, front paws up on a tree barking at the damn squirrel. I reach her and grab her leash, my chest is heaving rapidly, and I might die right here. Jogging is so not for me right now.

  "Come on, Koda, leave it!" I yell at her, and instantly she stops barking, takes her paws off the tree and stands there staring at me like I'm the problem here.

  "Oh, so now you listen?" I question her, hand on my hip as people walk by, gawking at me.

  I'm sure my face is beat red, and I look like a hot mess at the moment, but I'm getting this dog home to her sweet little girl, and that's what counts.

  "You are a pain in my ass, Koda," I huff as we walk back.

  Koda has her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, panting as we make it back to her home.

  "Maybe squirrel Olympics wasn't your best plan, yeah?" I huff as I ring the doorbell.

  When Mrs. Miller opens the door, she takes in my appearance and Koda's and gives me a small smile.

  "She saw a squirrel didn't she?" she asks as I pass the leash back to her.

  "Yeah," I pant.

  "Sorry, I understand if you don't want to walk her again," she says, sounding defeated.

  "No, that's okay, I would love to, just maybe what commands does she respond to best so I know next time," I offer, "and if your neighbors mention the crazy girl shouting ‘no’ in twenty different languages that was me."

  "Oh shit, sorry, she responds to ‘leave it’ the best, but that's not a for sure thing. But we only need someone to walk her once a week, if you're willing to," she says as she reaches around the door frame to grab her wallet.

  "I would love to, I just have to figure out my schedules, they're not the same each week," I tell her as I pocket the cash she hands me.

  "That's fine, you have my number now so just text me when you figure it out," she says with a smile.

  I wave to her as I turn and head down the steps. I know that there is a hot dog street vendor somewhere between my apartment building and this street, I have to find him. I take my time punching in the directions back to my road, and then casually walk down the sidewalk. It's already almost five in the evening, and I don't understand how the day got away from me so fast. It probably has to do with the whole walking everywhere thing. It takes a lot of time to walk places; I never realized how much time it takes, since I never actually walk anywhere these days.

  Remember when we were kids, and you had to walk or ride your bike everywhere, you could ride your bike across town and back again. Making new friends, and getting an ice cream cone along the way. Those were the days, man, when we didn't know what money was, why we needed it, we just knew that if you did XYZ, you could make a few bucks from Mom and Dad and that was enough to have some summer fun.

  Then at some point you start wanting more expensive things, and you work harder, you work longer, and the next thing you know you're moving out, you're working full time to make money to do things, but you never have enough money for the items. So you work more, but then when you have enough money, you don't have enough time.

  Adulting is a vicious cycle of not enough.

  Not enough time.

  Not enough money.

  Not enough laughter.

  Not enough happiness.

  Just not enough.

  Downpour

  The clouds start to roll into the sky, darkening the street. I look down to check my phone and see I still have about ten city blocks to go before I get home, but it's pretty much a straight shot back to my neighborhood. Clicking my phone open I check the weather report, and it still reads clear blue skies right before it dies.

  "Shit," I mumble to myself, trying and failing to turn my phone back on because it's dead as a fucking doorknob.

  Okay, it's fine, everything will be fine. I have to make it home. No problem, straight shot back to my neighborhood then I'll know where I am. Plus it's just a little cloudy, no big deal at all. I put my head down and start to walk a little bit faster than the leisurely pace I had earlier.

  Before I know it, I start to recognize the street signs and more of the buildings around me, this is the area that street vendors should be around and I can get a burger. The first flash of lightning sparks across the sky, followed by a snap of thunder so loud it rattles the storefront windows next to me and makes me jump.

  "Fuck," I whisper to myself moments before I feel the first drops of rain land on me.

  Quickly I duck under the awning of the storefront next to me, watching people pull out umbrellas as they leave the store like they knew it would rain.

  I check the fucking weather report to avoid this!

  I dart out from under the awning and sprint towards the next one to attempt some coverage from the storm. Looking out it's already downpouring and I still have at least five blocks before I'm home.

  Why? Like just why, man? I was having such a good day, not even chasing Koda was as bad as this is.

  I take a deep breath and decide to sprint as fast as I can and make it as close to home as I can, I'm already soaking wet after all. If I spend too much time jumping from awning to awning, it will just keep me wet longer; and not the good kind.

  I take one more breath, close my eyes, and then put my head down in determination and step out from under the awning. The sidewalk is relatively clear, not many people out strolling around in the rain. My feet hit the pavement hard, one right after another, as I try to steady my breathing to make it home without fucking dying.

  I should work out more.

  "Sorry!" I call to a man that I barely avoid running into.

  Finally, I see my building and take one final deep breath and gear up for the final push to get inside and into the warmth of my apartment. Man how I wish I could step into a nice hot shower right about now. Oh well, warm blankets and hot drink will have to do. I'm like eighty percent sure I have tea.

  Pushing the doors to my apartment building open I don't stop, I sprint up the stairs till I reach my floor, then down to my door. Reaching into my soaking wet pockets, panic starts to set in.

  "No, no
, no, no, no!" I yell and pound my fist against my closed, locked door, inside my apartment, where the keys to my apartment are safely locked inside.

  Motherfucker!

  "Okay, this is fine, I'll just go downstairs and get the building manager to come to unlock my door, it's fine," I tell myself as I lean my forehead against my door.

  Pushing off the door, I turn and head back towards the stairs and back down to the lobby. Where no one is waiting, the manager's nook is closed up for the night with a sign that says he'll be back tomorrow morning and to call the manager’s line and leave a message for anything that needs to be fixed.

  That doesn't fucking help me, dude.

  Of course, my phone is dead, so I can't call Keshia and ask her to bring her extra key either, because of course, why wouldn't I be unable to fucking call for help.

  I glance over my shoulder, warring my bottom lip between my teeth when I catch sight of the clock hanging on the wall.

  5:54 P.M.

  If you ever want a half-decent meal, apartment thirteen, dinners at six, seven days a week, standing invitation.

  I shouldn't, I fucking shouldn't, but maybe I can borrow his phone to text Keshia. That isn't the worst idea I've ever had, trust me, it isn't. I know what you're thinking, yeah sure Serendipity you're just going to go to the sexy, accommodating, stranger’s apartment, where he invited you to come over for dinner anytime, to use his fucking phone. All while soaking wet looking like a hot mess drowned rat, and I assure you this isn't the worst idea I have ever had.

  I stand in front of the closed door to apartment thirteen soaking wet. Reaching my shaking hand up, I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. I wait what feels like ten minutes, but it is probably more like thirty seconds or less. Looking down at the floor and wrangling my hands together in front of me, the door clicks open, and I'm hit in the face with the most amazing smells.

  "Jinx?" Malcolm asks, and when I look up, he has one eyebrow raised in question.

  "Hey Not-Floyd-Mayweather," I say, and that earns me a smile.

  "Shit, what happened to you? You're soaked," he comments then steps out of the way, holding the door open and gesturing for me to come inside.

  "What hasn't happened to me?" I huff as I step inside his apartment.

  His clean, well furnished, modern apartment that smells like an upscale Italian restaurant.

  "Do tell."

  "I got caught in the downpour over five blocks from here, my phone died, and I locked myself out of my apartment," I explain, holding up my dead phone for emphasis.

  "I was just wondering if I could borrow your phone to call my sister, she has my extra key, the building manager won't be back till the morning."

  "Of course you can," he says, "but first how about we get you out of those wet clothes, you can take a shower and warm up, I'll grab some sweats and stuff for you. You can call your sister, and stay for dinner until she shows up," he offers.

  I stand there in front of him with my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  "You don't have to do all that," I tell him.

  But fuck a hot shower does sound nice.

  He steps forward, and I flinch slightly as he runs his hands over my arms, goosebumps popping up along my skin and I'm not sure if it's from my cold wet clothes, or his touch.

  "You're freezing, and no offense but you're not sitting on any of my furniture soaking wet," he says his tone severe, but I can hear the hint of laughter, and see the small smirk he is holding back.

  "Okay," I agree, he trails his hand down my arm, linking our fingers together when he reaches my hand then turning and gently pulling me down the hall.

  His apartment has the same layout as mine, one bed, one bath, the bath is attached to the bedroom, but it seems much more beautiful. Brighter, warmer, cleaner and he has running water, so there's that.

  "Clean towels are folded in the closet above the toilet, you can use whatever you want in the shower, and I'll find something that might fit you," he says and motions towards the adjourned bathroom door. "If you leave your clothes by the door I'll hang them up for you, so they can start to dry," he says.

  "Okay, thank you," I tell him, still in a little bit of shock. He is so damn sweet and accommodating, why?

  I honestly don't think I have met a single person not related to me that would go out of their way like he is right now, for someone they don't even know.

  I step into the bathroom, and close the door, but leave it unlocked so he can leave something for me to wear. Then lean into the shower turning the hot water on all the way, and stripping out of my soaking wet clothing, leaving it piled up by the door. I step into the shower, and the hot water hits my body with a sting, the temperature difference between my wet clothing and the hot water a shock to my system.

  For a moment, all I do is stand under the stream and wait for the water to warm my body back up to a reasonable temperature. I hear the door click open briefly, but Malcolm doesn't say anything before the door clicks again. I sigh and look around the shower finding actual shampoo and conditioner, not the two in one, plus body wash stuff that men typically use. I click the top open and spray a little bit into my hand, then scrub it into my hair; and holy fucking shit does it feel good to wash my hair.

  I take my time to condition my hair and even use his body wash because let's face it, I don't know when I'm going to be able to shower next. Figuring I have spent enough time in here, and just about used up all of Malcolm's hot water I turn the water off, opening the shower curtain and grabbing two clean towels. I wrap my hair up in one and wrap the other around my body to dry off. Stepping out onto the bathroom rug, I see he has left me a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and even a hoodie; all of which I am going to practically swim in.

  Picking the sweats up from the pile first, I realize I don't have any underwear to put on like that is something I need to remember right this second.

  Fuck it; I don't have any other options now do I?

  I pull the sweat pants on, pulling the drawstring tight; thankful that it’s one of the pairs with the closed bottom so at least I don't have to roll up the hem to prevent them from dragging on the ground.

  I also have no bra, so I pull the shirt on, making sure to take a deep breath and smell it as I pull it over my head; total girl move, you know you would do it too.

  Then I put his hoodie over my head, we're going to say it’s because I don't want to get cold, but really it's so Not-Floyd-Mayweather doesn't get an eyeful of my nipples; they're bound to get hard at some point being so fucking close to him.

  I quickly pull open some of the drawers under the sink and find a small comb, it will have to do, I run it through my hair enough to get the tangles and the kinks out; just enough to look slightly less like a drowned rat.

  Reaching for the door handle, I pause when I remember again I don't have underwear or a bra on, and he took my clothes, which means he fucking saw my bra and my underwear. Now I'm drawing a blank on what I was wearing today. A sports bra I think; hopefully, one Keshia gave me and not one of my ratty old ones, but underwear? With my luck I was wearing granny panties; perfect first impression on the hot guy about to make me dinner.

  I take a deep breath and suck it the fuck up because I can't just hide out in here for the rest of the night, plus I haven't even called Keshia yet, so if I don't go out there, I won't be able to call her to bring me my key. Which means I really will be stuck in here all night long.

  I open the door and step out into Malcolm's bedroom, taking a moment to look around the space. He is organized, and clean, dark navy bedspread with matching pillows, even a fluffy throw blanket at the foot of his bed.

  Maybe he's gay? Now I'm stereotyping him, just because he is attractive, friendly, clean, and knows how to decorate a space doesn't mean he's gay.

  I, of all people should know not to stereotype someone's sexuality, Keshia would have a field day with that.

  Walking down the small hallway toward the main living area and the
kitchen I stop to look at the photos he has hung up on his walls, I've been here for two years, and I have two pictures hung up. I just kept saying I would do it, but I got busy. I kept saying I wanted to get matching frames so everything would look nice, but frames are expensive, and I don't have any fucking money; clearly.

  "My sister," I hear Malcolm's deep voice booming down the hall, and when I turn to face him he has a white dishrag hung over his left shoulder, and he is leaning his right against the hallway wall watching me.

  "She's pretty," I tell him because she is, she could be a model from the looks of this photo.

  "Smart too, she's a nurse," he says.

  "Wow, that's awesome," I tell him then take a step towards him but keep my eyes trained on the photos on the wall, stopping to take in the details of a canvas print; and not the mass-produced kind you get from TJ MAXX.

  "You have an excellent style, I love how you decorated," I tell him and he snorts.

  "I'll tell my mom you like her style," he says, and when I look back at him, he is smirking at me.

  "Should have guessed it but didn't want to be rude," I laugh.

  "Come on, dinner's ready," he says and holds his hand out to me.

  I take a few steps forward, hesitating slightly before I place my hand into his and let him lead me back to the kitchen.

  "Can I use your phone real quick?" I ask him.

  "Sure, but I put yours on the charger," he points his finger to the corner where my phone is indeed on the charger, "I wasn't sure if you knew your sister's number by heart or not, I know a lot of people don't remember that shit anymore, so figured I'd charge yours in case you needed to grab her number from there."

  "Thank you, that was nice of you," I say and walk over to my phone. Clicking it on, I wait for it to boot up, typing in my passcode I pull up Keshia's contact and click call.

  She sends it straight to voicemail, typical.

  Opening up a new text message to her, I type out a perfectly acceptable sisterly message.