Chasing Luck

by Brinda Berry

  If we have sex, this turns into something much different. I won’t be able to walk away from her in the morning. I’m being paid to make sure she’s safe. Not to take advantage of her.

  And that’s exactly what I’d be doing.

  I slowly lift myself off her and lie on my back, looking at the ceiling—at nothing—for a full minute. My body wants to revolt against my decision.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” I mutter. No explanation. No apologies. No more talking.

  She rolls away from me in bed and I resist the craving to pull her back.

  “Ace?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I don’t answer, but wait for her steady breathing before I let my mind drift.

  17

  Malerie

  “Give me a line and a rhyme. Give me your heart in words.”~ Jelly Bean Queen

  Patterns of light shimmy along the ceiling of the hotel room. The heavy, brocade curtains are open and a filmy, sheer curtain blocks the bright sunlight. My cell alarm buzzes, and I reach over to press the display. The hotel is quiet this morning.

  Ace lies beside me, deep in sleep. He’s on his back and his chest is bare. Oh, yeah. That would be because I practically tore his shirt off last night.

  But I’m not embarrassed like I should be. Hurt? Yes. Like walking into the ocean with a thousand paper cuts. Rejection of epic proportions.

  I’m glad I let myself experience something so I don’t have time to regret anything. The boxes reveal bad things from the past and the future. I will die soon. Of this, I am sure.

  Death is coming for me but not before I can have the things I want so badly.

  His chest rises and falls and I’m relieved he’s asleep. I need time to myself to analyze why he stopped us.

  I inch over to where he lies and hover with my lips over his. Just one kiss for the sleeping prince who didn’t desert me when everyone else has. The touch of my lips to his is fleeting and I move off the bed as gracefully as possible.

  I grab some clothes so I can get into the bathroom and change. I have things to do.

  * * *

  My cell ringtone plays somewhere from the depths of my bag. It takes a minute of rooting around lipstick, candy, and a romance novel to find it. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Ace asks in a husky morning voice.

  "In the hotel. I'll be back up there in a minute." I smile at his question. His voice elicits pleasurable goose bumps over my body. The sound alone is buttercream-frosting yummy.

  "You didn’t even leave a note to tell me where you went." He doesn’t say more for several seconds.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  "Where are you? Where?"

  "I'm in the gift shop." I’ve stopped smiling now. Why does he sound so grumpy? This must be the coffee thing. Maybe I should be glad I’m not a regular coffee drinker.

  "Don't leave. Stay where there're other people. I'm coming."

  "I—" But I don’t get to finish because he’s ended the call. I throw the phone into my purse and go to the counter to check out. I feel brave and triumphant that I’ve ventured out of the room alone into a strange place. JT would be proud.

  The clerk swipes my debit card and I smile nervously as I take the plastic bag with my purchase.

  The gift shop door swings wide and the clerk levels his glare at the customer. I follow his laser beam of disapproval straight to the person stalking toward me.

  “Hey.” I tuck my purchase into my purse.

  He takes my elbow and leads me out the door. His expression is more than caffeine deprived.

  “Why didn’t you wait until I could walk down with you?”

  “Grumpy much? I was going to see if they have a Starbucks around—”

  “Someone tried to kill you at your house. Do you really think you should walk around by yourself?”

  "You didn't tell me to wait. And I'm perfectly capable of a trip alone to the gift shop."

  "Oh. You couldn't sleep alone last night, but today you're brave enough to gallivant around the hotel." He mutters this like he’s talking to himself, but it’s obviously loud enough for me to hear.

  I’m instantly hurt and enraged.

  At the elevator, I scowl at Ace who I’ve been mentally glorifying since I woke. I wasn’t embarrassed earlier, but I am now. “You are being a total asshat. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you last night and I didn’t want to bother you this morning.”

  "What couldn't wait?" His eyebrows rise into hair that is noticeably messy. Whether it’s just-rolled-outta-bed messy or hallelujah-hot-boy messy is debatable. Either way, I’d trade my Kings of Leon setlist for a chance to run my fingers through it.

  "Nothing. Nothing important."

  "What's in the bag?" he asks with narrowed eyes and entitlement.

  "Elevator’s here."

  "I want to know."

  My eyebrows rise in response to his movement. "You are my…” Bodyguard sounds a little Hollywood-ish, so I settle for a stupid substitute. “…companion. Not my keeper. And you put one finger on my purse and you lose that hand.”

  He rubs his scruffy jaw.

  I step ahead of him into the elevator. “Coming?” I widen my eyes at him. I refuse to act guilty.

  Ace frowns. "Yeah.”

  We are silent as he steps inside and the doors close.

  He pushes the button to go to the lower lobby. “Sorry about that.” The apology rumbles low and is barely discernable.

  “I can tell.”

  “You scared me. It's my job to make sure you stay safe."

  “Why are we going down?”

  "Can we get some breakfast now? I'll be nice. I promise," he says as he stares at the elevator buttons.

  "Yeah. Anything to make you less grouchy."

  "I need coffee and protein. Make me happy. I hate to eat alone." Ace places his hand on my back to guide me out. His touch is light but my entire body buzzes in response.

  “I’m not as obsessed with meals as you are. But since food is the way to your heart, I’ll go.” I glance at him; it’s difficult to be mad when he worries about me.

  Ace gives me a funny look. “Sure. I wouldn’t call myself obsessed.” He smiles then. “What you called me earlier … I’m not sure what an asshat is.”

  “Look in the mirror. Asshat.” I say in a tone as dry as burnt toast. I can’t hide my grin.

  He laughs.

  * * *

  We have two choices when it’s time to check out of the hotel. Choice A is to sit in the airport until the afternoon flight. Choice B is to do one of the touristy things Ace mentioned earlier when we arrived in San Francisco.

  I pick Choice B even though that’s not what I want and hope my lungs will continue to work under stress.

  Walking around an old building on an island? Riding a ferry to get there? Both sound as safe as parachuting into a war zone.

  Ace stands in awe of Alcatraz as we tour one room after another of the former prison. “What can I say?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I like history. And that movie … you know the one.”

  “What movie?”

  "Escape From Alcatraz? Clint Eastwood was amazing. I probably saw the movie five times as a kid.”

  I roll my eyes. "I don't watch TV. Too much tragedy and bad news. I don’t even know who that actor is.”

  “Shameful.” His serious disbelief startles me.

  “What? So I’m not a movie buff.”

  “Put that on your list of movies to watch.”

  “Whatever.” I walk ahead and look at the lunchroom. Ace hasn’t strayed two feet from me all day. He did allow me to shower by myself. Unlucky me. He doesn’t hold my hand, but I swear I can feel him breathing down my neck … and not in a good way. I question whether it’s due to the fact he’s afraid I’ll freak out over being in this strange place or if he thinks a hit man will jump from behind a tourist and point a gun at my head.

  Not likely.

  Ace steps back and gla
nces at me. “If you don’t like TV, why do you always have it on?”

  “I like the voices.” Okay, that sounded right up there in cray-cray land. If I haven’t run him off so far, that might be the backbreaking straw.

  He doesn’t run, but places a hand on my back to move me forward. I feel the zing of his touch and close my eyes.

  "Anyway, can you imagine actually being locked up in here?" I ask. This old cement makes me think of the debris that surrounded me that day. I push the thought away.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad,” he answers, looking around the mess hall. “Some guys I know might go to jail so they can get three meals a day.” Ace doesn’t seem like the type to run with guys who are destined for jail, but what do I really know about him?

  “That’s classic. You put this in perspective through food.”

  “Why not? Three squares. Dessert.”

  “Food isn’t worth being trapped in a place like this.” A shudder works its way down my body.

  “I’ve been hungry, but no. Never worth that.” He grimaces. “The guys who came here gave up on life. Or were mental.”

  I let him walk in front of me because I like to look at him while he’s unaware. He’s the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen. He moves like some tiger stalking prey, light and sure. The only thing that gives him away is the fidgeting. I like to watch the way his finger moves on objects.

  “Cell blocks next,” he says, eager as a kid on the first day of school. “You doing okay with this?” He doesn’t look my way when he asks this in a casual tone.

  “Yeah.” It’s true I’m not panicking like I normally do. Talking about movies and other things helps.

  We tour the exercise yard and kitchen after that. Clouds cover the sun as we board the ferry for the ride back.

  There are two small boys running toward us. Both have the same shade of white-blond hair with one boy slightly taller than the other. The smaller one holds out his hands to Ace and rams into Ace’s legs. Squeals of delight pierce the air.

  The taller boy tries to pry his brother’s arms loose from Ace’s legs.

  "Trent," says the older boy. "Let go." He looks up at Ace and says, "Sorry, mister. He's a silly kid."

  I stifle a laugh at the boy’s reference to his brother as a kid.

  Ace leans down and lifts the smaller boy up into the circle of his arms.

  "Where's your mom and dad?" Ace says to the little one.

  A young, frazzled woman appears with her arms out to take her kid. "I told you not to leave my side. You are supposed to be watching your little brother," the woman says to the older boy.

  Ace glances from her to the older kid.

  “I’ll take him,” she says in an accusing tone. The woman looks like she thinks Ace is hiding horns and a pitchfork.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ace answers much more nicely than I would have.

  He studies them for a while without talking.

  “You good?” I ask.

  He nods and frowns. “She should be taking care of them. The woman doesn’t deserve kids. The state might as well take them away from her.”

  I suck in a breath at his disgusted tone. “Wow. That’s harsh. I mean, she probably turned her back for a second. You know how easy it is to get distracted.”

  I’m not seeing what he does, but I’m positive there’s more to his sudden anger. “I guess I don’t see the big deal,” I say.

  “Yeah? Well that older one has been taking care of his brother for a while. He’s not even old enough to be walking around this boat by himself. Do you know how easily that little one could get hurt on a ferry?”

  He shoves his hand through his hair.

  I don’t say anything because I can tell he’s upset. I don’t know how to calm him.

  We’re approaching the harbor and the sun peeps out again. He moves to stand so his elbow touches my body.

  “I had a little brother once. That reminded me of him. I didn’t mean to be a … what’d you call me this morning?”

  “Asshat.”

  “So what happened to your brother?”

  He doesn’t answer immediately and I don’t push. Seagulls alight on the boat’s deck, their feathers ruffling against the wind.

  “Joe had cancer. I guess I’ve thought about him a lot today.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  We turn our backs to the railing and I turn to trace a finger over the metal. I sneak a peek at Ace. He stares ahead, his eyes hidden by the dark shades of his sunglasses, his mouth a straight line.

  “So you were close.” I nod even though he hasn’t confirmed my statement.

  “He loved watching movies with me.” Ace smiles, a slight upturn of his lips. “That movie—Escape from Alcatraz—made me think of Joe.”

  “So you know what it’s like to lose someone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I still miss my mom. I was a kid when it happened—when she died. But I remember her very well. I remember her playing board games with me. Stupid, huh?”

  “No. When Joe was a kid, we didn’t have a lot of … stuff. I think we had a game or two but it was mostly television. Lots of movies.” He glances over at me. “What about you and JT?”

  “JT and I didn’t really do things together like watch movies. But I knew he loved me. He wanted me to be happy.”

  “Of course.”

  “He wanted me to go to college at MIT. I’ve been accepted.” I don’t know why I’m telling Ace this. Now that JT is gone, it doesn’t matter.

  He pivots to me in a flash and rips off the glasses. “And you’re going, right?”

  I raise one defiant eyebrow. “No.”

  “You have to go. You’d be crazy not to.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Why? You can get over all this…” He waves the hand holding his glasses around like he’s gesturing at the world. “…shit. Total shit.” Ace exhales like he’s completed a marathon and looks at me.

  I try to blank my expression. He’s been so positive before this conversation.

  “Sorry. It’s not all shit. This is awesome.” He puts his sunglasses on and his smile is anything but natural. “Ocean air, pretty girl, world traveling…”

  A black thunderstorm of regret darkens my day and I find it hard to swallow. “You don’t think I want to plan a future with school? I want things. I want to get a degree in computer science. Or media. Or something. I want to know I can leave my house, drive somewhere, anywhere, and not be afraid. I want to take road trips and meet friends I’ve only had online. I want to go to a concert. Collin’s asked me to go interview a band live—”

  “Interview bands?” He smiles for a second and his brow furrows. “Who’s Collin?”

  Heat edges up my face. I’ve said too much. “Just a guy I’m friends with online.”

  “Like an online boyfriend? You should be careful, Malerie. There are real weirdos online.”

  “Yeah. Weirdos like me. He and I do a podcast show.”

  “What’s it about?” He turns back to face the ocean and leans both elbows on the railing.

  “Breaking bands. Garage bands. It’s no big deal. Something we do weekly.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Not really.”

  “Does anyone hear it? Can I listen to one?”

  My face begins to heat, not from the sunshine, but from the knowledge that he might want to listen to Rock Universe. “Sure. If you want. I’ll email the URL to you later.”

  “Good. Yes, I want to listen.” He puts the sunglasses in his pocket.

  “Or we could hang out and I’ll play the recording of the last one for you.”

  The ferry reaches the dock and announcements of debarking begin to play on a speaker.

  “Time to get to the airport and head home,” Ace says. “You think you’ll be all right on the flight home?”

  I squeeze his bicep and grin. “With you there? Sure. I can handle it.”

  He
moves away from my hand on his arm. “Malerie?”

  “Hmm?” I get in line to exit the boat.

  “What happened last night can’t happen again. I work for you … for Billy … and it’s not a good idea. We’re not fu—we’re not buddies or more than buddies. I work for you.” He gives me that fake smile again.

  His words—after our last conversation—sear me. An actual heartburn in my chest. We are friends. And he is attracted to me whether he’ll admit it or not.

  “Asshat,” I mutter. This is my new nickname for him. He is a maddening asshat. And I’m definitely falling for him. “Sure. But if you work for me, I say you move into the house. That carriage house thing isn’t going to work. And we need to work around the clock to figure out how to stop whatever’s going to happen.”

  His smile hardens into a grim line of displeasure. He examines me like he knows exactly what I’m doing. “Yeah. No problem at all. And you need to be aware of the dangers of living with an asshat.”

  18

  Ace

  “A dozen roses, a dozen lies, a dozen drinks, before you’re mine.” ~ Jelly Bean Queen

  At Malerie’s house, the two devil dogs wait with a slobbery kiss for her and a bone-chilling growl for me. The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and I am stepping into hell. Malerie wants me to sleep inside the main house.

  “Gertrude?” Malerie drops her bag and walks through the house calling the housekeeper’s name. Housekeeper. Maybe I can convince the woman to move in. A housekeeper to run interference and a chastity belt for Malerie—as good a plan as any.

  “I’m going to make a cup of coffee. You want some?”

  "No. You go ahead. Mi casas es su casa."

  "Si. Oui. Whatever," I mutter. I carry the rest of the bags into the house before making my way to the kitchen. Ah. At least there’s this mecca for retreat.

  Malerie’s humming some familiar radio tune. She’s a little too cheerful for my taste. Also … too pretty. When I told the kid on the plane she was that overly pretty type? Yeah. All true. And she’s bossy. She orders me to stay here like I have no choice.