One Lucky Girl

by Natasha L. Black

“Don’t I?”

  “Not really,” Owen agreed.

  “Hm, not sure,” I said. “I’ve got a pretty standard family. Nice and supportive Mom and Dad, judgemental neurotic older sister, Lorraine.”

  “The kind who definitely wouldn’t approve of us,” Jake said, grinning.

  “I don’t know,” I said, even though I did.

  “Cool, when do we get to meet her?” he asked.

  Owen reached over me to whack Jake. “Ever heard of too much too fast?”

  “Nope,” Jake said blithely. “Far as I’m concerned, the sooner people know about us, the better.”

  “The sooner people know what, exactly?” Owen shot back.

  An awkward silence was the only response his question got. Their words brought up some good points. We were still taking this as it was coming. And while so far it was going well, that was just so far. There were still some big questions hanging over us – ones that I was none too keen to actually look at closely.

  “On that happy note” – Owen grabbed the chips and wrapped me in his arms – “Less talk, more action.”

  I giggled, my arms wrapping around him too. “I can get into that.”

  “Hey,” Jake said, burrowing under the sheets with us. “No fair.”

  As he wrapped himself around me too, I grinned. Something told me that tonight was going to be one hell of a cozy night.

  --

  It turned out I was right. Too right, since the knocking on the door seemed so far-off and unwanted, that it seemed preferable to ignore it entirely. Until it gradually progressed to the door being opened.

  I could only gape helplessly as Penelope’s face arranged itself in my consciousness. Quickly, I scrambled out of bed and out of the room, careful to close the door behind me.

  “So,” she said, eyeing me oddly.

  “So,” I said. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Only her perfectly shaped eyebrow quirking was enough to make me sigh. “There were no threesomes, but Jake and I, yeah.”

  “I figured.”

  It was then I noticed that Penelope had her purse on her arm and her hair arranged into a high pony. “You leaving?”

  “Yeah, I just wanted to peek in to say goodbye, but then you raced out.”

  “Here, how about we go to the coffee shop?” I was a good few steps toward the door when I remembered.

  I sighed, looking down. “Still in my bathrobe.”

  Penelope giggled. “I’ll give you five bucks in you go to Dunkin Donuts like that.”

  I shook my head, already heading to the closet, where I luckily had a stash of rarely-worn sweats. “No amount of money would be enough for you to ruin my one minute away coffee run spot, since if I showed up like that, I could never show my face there again.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Penelope said, though she was still smirking. “You might even get a free Timbit or two out of it.”

  “Great.” Now out of my bathrobe and in my dust-colored sweats, I threw my purse strap over my arm. “A free fifteen cent Timbit for baring my half-nude self to the world.”

  “They’re actually twenty-five cents now,” Penelope replied smoothly as we made for the door.

  “Oh, how times have changed.”

  It occurred to me, a minute or so later as we walked to Dunkin’ Donuts, that times really had. I’d opened my heart to meeting someone – and not just one, but two someones had fallen in.

  Before we got into line, Penelope paused eyeing me.

  “Just say it,” I said with a small sigh.

  Having Penelope bite back something was not only unheard-of, it was pretty nerve-wracking.

  “It’s just… don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for falling for the two of them, but do you really think it could work for the long run?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  My sullen gaze landed on a couple going into the glass doors beside us. They weren’t holding hands and looked no happier than me on a day when I forgot my coffee.

  “Seems like most relationships don’t work out these days, so is it really a risk trying this?”

  Penelope’s curly strands waggled as her head turned to regard me. “Is that what you have with them – a relationship?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s still the early stages, ok?”

  “Ok. Fine.”

  But it wasn’t ‘ok’ or ‘fine’, Penelope’s words had lit up a reserve of uncertainty already inside me.

  “This is a bit of a dream world,” I said, biting at my lip. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t work out. Just that, it might be hard.”

  “Have you told your family about them?”

  All this about the family again.

  “You know what?” I said suddenly, getting out my phone. “Screw donuts. I want brunch.”

  It was only when I was away from Jake and Owen that I started feeling doubt encroach. Besides Franz’s breakfast special lifted the worst of my moods.

  But calling Jake’s cell only left me listening to it ring and ring. Two times I called, and two times I reached his voicemail. Same thing for Owen.

  Finally, I had to turn to Penelope with a scowling shrug. “Guess Timmies it is.”

  A few minutes later, back at my place, we found the front door unlocked.

  Penelope and I exchanged a nervous look. What the hell was going on?

  22

  Jake

  They were taking forever. Sure, girls will be girls and coffee is life and all that, but still. Breakfast had been ready ten minutes ago.

  Finally, at the sound of the door opening, I looked up from the stove.

  “What took you so long?”

  Cin looked frozen between shock and delight. “You guys. I practically had a heart attack. Not answering your cells, leaving the front door unlocked.”

  “Whoops, that would be me,” I said. “Had to run to the grocery store across the street for some eggs.”

  “Eggs?” Penelope said.

  And that was when their gazes landed on the spread Owen and I had prepared. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, hash browns, and some raisin toast.

  Finally, that overdue smile came onto Cin’s face. “I..” she hoisted up a mini-box of donut holes. “This is my surprise, I guess.”

  “You girls were gone pretty long,” I commented, watching for their reactions.

  Although Penelope had been our wing woman the last time the four of us hung out, something told me that their ‘girl talk’ this time hadn’t been of the ‘you go girl!!’ variety.

  “We’re pretty hungry,” Cin said, picking up the platters Owen and I had set on the kitchen counter.

  “Here, I can help,” I offered, reaching for one myself.

  “It’s fine,” Penelope said primly, picking it up.

  She and Cin exchanged a look, saying nothing. Yep, something was up.

  Although that didn’t stop me from feasting with vigor. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, more eggs, way more bacon, I plopped everything into a mishmash that I scooped into my mouth, heaping spoonfuls at a time.

  “What are your plans today?” I asked Cin.

  “Probably just errand-running,” she said, avoiding my gaze.

  After some small talk, I excused myself to go to the restroom.

  Inside, was all the normal ‘girl stuff’ you’d expect – the pretty-smelling pinky glistening hand soap, the black glossy three-level suitcase thing that I was fairly certain was for makeup. Although I’d been in this bathroom before, last night, in fact, right now I was seeing it with new eyes. The eyes of someone who might now return.

  As I took a piss, I felt sentimental toward her shell-scalloped soap dish, for Christ’s sake. Yeah, I was in deep, that was for sure.

  My phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Rodney,” a voice growled.

  I waited for the explanation that never came. “Think you’ve got the wrong number, buddy.”

  “I’m Pauly’s manager,�
�� he said.

  As if that explained better why my next opponent’s manager was calling me up at 11:27 am on a Saturday morning. Although his name did ring a bell for some reason.

  “What, hoping for some tips?” I asked him.

  “No. You’re going to have to throw the fight next week.”

  I laughed. “Oh, ok then. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  “I’m not joking. Your brother owes me money. A lot of money. He’s been dodging my calls. Avoiding me.” He exhaled loudly into the receiver, sending crackling in my ear. “Either you pay up or I send one of my guys to make him pay up. Teach your brother some manners.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “Owen’s better with money than our grandma. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder how he had all that cash at the start to finance your training, your mitts, all that shit?”

  I paused. Ronald, or whatever his name was, had a point. At the time, Owen had just laughed my incredulous ‘how’ question off, citing some long-ago far-away savings fund. But now…

  “He borrowed money from me,” R-something continued. “Money he never repaid.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Owen’s an honest guy, and we aren’t doing bad now either. I’m winning.”

  “All that needs to make sense is you losing next week. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it. I’m just not doing it. You can take your offer and shove it up your ass.”

  A too-long pause. Then, a raspy sort of ‘hm’.

  “Was thinking you might say that. I’ll give you the next hour to change your mind.”

  “You can take your hour and” – click.

  I turned on the faucet and stared at the water drilling into the sink bowl. Raol or whatever his name was, was full of shit. And as soon as I got back to the table with Cin and the others, I’d ask Owen straight up.

  My hand twisting the cool silver of the door knob, I paused. One thing Owen was other than good with money was honest to a fault. If he really was in some deep shit with this guy and had to pay up, he’d rather sell a kidney than have me throw a fight.

  Besides, there was no point in embarrassing him in front of Cin on the off chance that there was some shady BS going down.

  Back at the table, a relative silence had descended. I sat down for a few minutes, feebly trying and failing to make idle conversation, before the man’s words echoed in my head: I’ll give you the next hour to change your mind. Did that mean what I think it meant?

  Getting up, I walked around, paused, placed my hands on the chair back and made the decision. “I gotta go.”

  I gave Cin a sideways hug, Penelope a brisk wave and Owen a nod.

  “Gym?” he asked with a wink.

  “You know it.” I winked back. “Gotta win so my manager doesn’t look bad.”

  I was on my way to the door when Owen’s call reached me, “Impossible – your manager can’t look bad!”

  As I made my way to the elevator, all I could do was grimly think, I really hope so.

  --

  When I reached our cars, I knew. Owen was in some deep, deep shit.

  His Mazda’s tires were slashed.

  I called him up. “Make any enemies lately?”

  “No, why?”

  “Your tires are slashed.”

  “Shit, seriously?”

  “Yeah, probably happened last night,” I said. Or, say, in the past hour, I added privately to myself.

  “So?” I said.

  “None, except for this guy who kinda looks and sounds like me.”

  “I know the guy,” I said, going along with the joke, although inside I was reeling. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Completely.”

  I smiled grimly. “You want me to call the tow truck and wait it out?”

  “Nah, I can do it myself. You get your fat ass to the gym.”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  “Good luck, kid.”

  I hung up, getting into my car. I drove until I got to the first parking lot I saw. I pulled into a spot and picked up my phone, dialing back the last number that had called me. “Hey. Just to clarify, deal is I throw the fight and in exchange you’ll leave Owen alone?”

  “You got it.”

  “Ok,” I said. “I’m in. I’ll throw the fight.”

  23

  Owen

  As soon as Jake hung up, I released my teeth’s’ bite-hold on my cheek.

  This was bad. Very majorly bad.

  I snuck a glance at my phone and Rodney’s last message, sent at 2:38 am last night.

  This is your last warning Powers. Pay up.

  I scowled, shoving the phone in my pocket, glad that the girls were embroiled in a Starbucks vs Bridgehead debate.

  “Be right back,” I said, heading to the bathroom myself. I’d heard voices when Jake was in there, it couldn’t be connected to this, could it?

  No way. Jake was as good at keeping secrets as a four-year-old child, not that I was much better. Although with this, there’s been no real choice.

  Jake had always been the impulsive one, and when dealing with a crazy fucker like Rodney, you couldn’t afford to be impulsive.

  I dug my forehead into the wall, closing my eyes. If only I’d known! That that first ‘loan’ was anything but.

  “Didn’t I mention there’d be interest?” Rodney had said, flashing his grilled smile all innocent-like.

  And so I’d paid up for that too, the so-called interest, the hundreds more that I owed him on top of the thousand. And then Jake kept winning, and Rodney kept asking. Just a minor adjustment, some interest he’d forgotten, a final goodbye-guarantee. All of it, bullshit. This last time, I’d told him to fuck off for good, that enough was enough. But Rodney was a man who didn’t take kindly being told ‘no’.

  And so, here I was, trying to juggle my brother not knowing about the asshat blackmailing me for money I didn’t even owe him anymore. Maybe it was stupid, not telling Jake. But I didn’t want anything else on his mind when he was in the ring, other than beating the other guy to a pulp. And if that meant smashing up the face of one of Rodney’s boys nice and good, so much the better.

  Rodney was a determined motherfucker, that much had to be said of him. I fisted my hands and pressed them into my cheekbones. Determined motherfucker or not, this had to stop. Maybe I’d have to tell Jake after all. After the fight next week, once the win was over with, then we could figure this out together.

  If there was any figuring this out.

  Hearing Cin’s laughter through the door, I froze. Oh right, Cin. And to think, Rodney had tracked me all the way here, done this at Cin’s apartment. My hands balled up so tight I felt like my tendons would burst.

  If Rodney had done anything, anything at all to endanger her… Well then, he’d wish he’d never met either of the Powers twins, that was for damn sure.

  --

  Back in the kitchen, the girls didn’t seem to suspect anything. Although they did seem a bit colder, but who really knew with women anyway.

  Although Cin turning so I only got a cheek for a goodbye kiss wasn’t exactly the best send-away.

  “Thanks for the breakfast,” she said, smiling shyly.

  “Thanks for the treats,” I said, reaching over to pop one in my mouth.

  And then I paused in the door, wanting to say something more, yet dissuaded by Penelope’s gangly staring form.

  “Bye then,” I finally settled on, walking out the door.

  Although all the way to my car, even as I called up the tow truck, I was silently cursing myself for not going back and inviting her on another date. The whole thing was weird to me, wanting to see someone as soon as you were leaving them.

  A cheesy thought popped up in my head, one I was glad no one else would know: Cin was like Lays – you couldn’t eat just one.

  24

  Cin

  Jake’s leaving was awkward, and Owen’s leaving was more so. Really, I’d wanted to talk to them ab
out the talk Penelope and I had had, but I didn’t know how. Nor did I know if it was even best. I mean, of course they would try to make claims about how it was going to work, what else would anyone in their position do?

  I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about this position or us or anything else.

  Penelope leaving after them was an actual relief. While she was my best friend, still, sometimes being around her required a gargantuan effort that left me drained later on.

  Like now. All I had the energy to do was half-collapse on my bed and check my phone. And then fling it to the foot of the bed.

  No messages. No nothing. Looks like sleep, it was.

  The rest of the weekend, which I had off by some miraculous cruel trick of fate, was more of the same. Radio silence from either twin.

  Stupid of me not to text them, but, stubbornly, pointlessly, I wanted them to text me. I wanted to know that sleeping with both of them hadn’t changed things. And by Tuesday night – four whole days of zero contact, after over a week of practically nonstop, I had my answer. Penelope had been right. I’d been kidding myself that this could ever actually work.

  And that was why I was so shocked when, just as I was turning into bed at 11:15 pm, I got a call.

  “It’s Owen. I’m at your door.”

  “Why’d you call me then?”

  “I don’t know, so you didn’t think I was some apartment murderer or Amazon guy.”

  “Amazon guys don’t come in the middle of the night.”

  “Are you going to let me in or not?”

  He had a point. Really, I wasn’t sure I wanted to, the way my heart was flapping against my rib cage hard enough to fall out. These past four days had been an exercise in determination, in steeling myself against despair. Sure, I’d devoured the token Cherry Garcia, but I hadn’t missed a day of work, hadn’t even let myself fully despair that the first time I’d fallen for anyone since Brent, I got my heart ripped into a thousand pieces.

  But still, that feeling of my insides corkscrewing into a dead pile at the base of me, of being emptied out, gutted entirely, that had followed me these past few days – there was no denying that. Or the danger of it returning – even worsening – after this latest visit of Owen’s.