Chasing Luck

by Brinda Berry

  "No problem." A few minutes later, the driver pulls over and Ace hands him a bill. "Keep the change." I want to offer to pay, but we're out of the cab before I have the chance.

  "Teddy's Trinket Box." I examine the narrow storefront and push open the heavy door. The musical sound of a bell suspended over the door trills when we enter. The store is made of aisles, crammed with shelves along the walls. Boxes are everywhere. I didn't know there could be so many types of boxes. There are boxes labeled as jewelry boxes, hat boxes, and toy boxes.

  A twenty-something guy peeks out from a red-velvet curtain at the back of the store. "Hello. I thought I heard the door. Welcome to Teddy's. Are you looking for anything special?"

  "I have some boxes with a signature. I looked it up online to find you. I'd like to find the person who made this." I pull up my cell phone photo gallery and pass it to him.

  He takes it from me and nods. "Yes, ma’am. Those are ours." He hands the phone back to me. "You a local?"

  "No," Ace answers. "What can you tell us about them?"

  "Those are Chinese presentation boxes." The salesman looks up and smiles. "I can show you some similar pieces along this wall. This set is one of a kind. "

  "No. We need information." I'm chasing him down an aisle to a back area of the store. "I want to talk with the guy who made these. Is he here?"

  "No. That's not possible. My dad made those, and he passed away a long time ago." He pauses and looks around at the boxes. "He did some great work, didn't he? Dad was a true artist."

  "Yes." Ace answered. "Did you ever talk with him about how he came up with the themes for the drawings on his boxes?" Ace picks up a small trinket box and examines it. He turns it around in his hand. The rosewood box pictures a dragon whose tail wraps around the sides to meet his feet on the front. "Did he see the designs and copy them?"

  "He was blind," says Teddy, disapproval at the question heavy in his voice. "No, he didn't copy them."

  "I didn't mean anything by that." Ace puts the box on the shelf. "Beautiful job. I'm not artistic at all, so I don't know how it's done."

  "Sometimes people special ordered things and gave him ideas of what they wanted. Other times he would create things that inspired him or things he remembered from his sighted days."

  "Sighted? So he wasn’t always blind?" Ace asked.

  "No, it happened after he became a diabetic." Teddy waves at a woman passing the windows on the street.

  "There's Moon type on my boxes." I'm not sure how to phrase the next question. "There's a word on each box. Is that common?"

  "Like this?" The clerk walks to a glass shelf holding various sized boxes. He takes one and brings it back to show us. "No, that's not common. That's why my father's boxes can't be found in any other store."

  The box is beautifully lacquered with a scene on each side and a crane on the top. Moon type spells out a word at the top.

  "And this says…?" I trace my finger along the symbols.

  The clerk tilts his head and reads it. "Eternity. The crane is a symbol of good luck."

  "So you read Moon type?" I ask.

  He laughs. "Of course. Dad got tired of me asking him all the time and cut me off on translating."

  This guy's love for his dad comes out in every word. I like him. "My name's Malerie. Malerie Toombs. And this is Ace."

  "Teddy," he says, giving me his hand.

  "Of course, you're Teddy." As in squeezable, lovable. I could be totally comfortable with him.

  "Well, Theodore Hamlin, Jr., but I go by Teddy." He turns to shake Ace's hand. "So, you're not here to buy. What can I do to help you with the boxes you own?"

  "We'd like to know if someone commissioned these boxes, if there are more identical to them … things like that. Really we'd take any information you can give us." Ace turns when the chimes above the door sound. He faces Teddy again. "Malerie and I would be happy to take you to dinner after you close shop. If you could tell us anything, it would be helpful."

  Teddy greets the woman and boy who enter the shop. The child swings a stuffed bear wildly and Teddy grimaces like he's latched onto a lemon. "Sorry. I'd enjoy talking with you later. You really don't have to buy me dinner." He doesn't take his gaze off the kid swinging the bear wrecking-ball style.

  The woman grabs the little boy's arm. "Greg, be careful. Remember what I told you about how we behave while shopping."

  Teddy returns his attention to us. "How about six o’clock? There's a restaurant down the block called 1515. I could meet you there just after closing."

  "Terrific," Ace says.

  "Nice to meet you, Teddy. See you tonight." I hold my breath when the kid's toy makes another near miss at a large vase of flowers.

  "We can relax until dinner. Come on." Ace motions his head toward the door. Walking around a display, he says, "Excuse me," to a man who stands between the table and the path to the door.

  The man must have slipped in like a cat. I’m startled by the way he fills a room once you notice him. He’s wearing a dark gray suit and carries a long-handled umbrella with an end that looks suspiciously lethal.

  The old guy brings the umbrella up between me and Ace.

  "Can you tell me the time?" The old man's umbrella shakes at a 90-degree angle.

  I glance at my watch. “Quarter till three.” I wait for the homicidal umbrella to let me pass.

  Ace turns his head and stops at the exit. “Malerie?”

  “Sorry, dear,” the old man says as he lowers the umbrella. "I wanted to get a better look at you. I know you, don't I?"

  I’m standing close to the old guy. There’s a waxy, burnt smell clinging to him, like extinguished candles. His face is smooth—not a mass of wrinkles to match his old, shaky voice. His eyes remind me of a crow, trained on something shiny.

  "No, I don't believe so. I'm visiting. I doubt I'm the person you know." I give him a gentle smile.

  "I heard you asking about Teddy’s father," the old man says.

  "Excuse us. Malerie?" Ace holds out his hand to me in a gesture that lets the man know I’m not alone.

  "Coming," I say and move forward to meet Ace at the door. I glance over my shoulder to see the old man talking to Teddy.

  "That was weird,” I mumble.

  Ace takes my hand in his.

  “Hey, I’m fine.” I attempt to pull my hand from his. He feels sorry for me after my continual role as damsel in distress. But his hand is glorious and comforting.

  His fingers give mine a gentle squeeze and a warm thrill rests low in my belly. "Strange luck follows you around and now an old guy is trying to hit on you. I think it’s best if you stick close to me."

  Walking along the crowded sidewalk, I ask, "What do we do until dinner?"

  "We do what normal people do. Sightsee. How dangerous can that be?"

  “You realize you’re asking the wrong person that question.”

  He doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t slow his walk.

  We walk hand-in-hand until there’s a large arch announcing Chinatown. The streets are crowded with shops and restaurants. Red Chinese lanterns hang suspended overhead and sway in the breeze. Conversations float around me. A Chinese man sits in a chair on the sidewalk while playing a stringed instrument.

  Aromas of spice and ginger fill my nose and an odd feeling of contentment washes over me. I don’t remember the last time I could breathe this easily. A street vendor selling food invites me to try his dishes.

  All this beauty I smell and see is only secondary to the euphoric feeling I have because my hand is in his. Silly, but true.

  Ace stops walking. "Would you like to try something?" he asks.

  I’m suddenly shy. With my hand in his, this feels like something so much more than a trip to discover the origin of the boxes. I have to remind myself it’s a job to him.

  Ace pulls me with him to the vendor's stand and tells the owner what he wants by pointing and holding up six fingers. The vendor hands him a small bag.

  I shake
my head. "Do you even know what you’ve bought?"

  "Dessert. A deep-fried sesame donut of sorts. Go ahead and try one."

  “Yeah. I know what it is. I just wondered if you do. It’s called jin dui. My mom bought them for me when I was little.” I pop a whole pastry into my mouth. "Mmm… I love the red bean paste."

  "I thought you were a picky eater."

  "I'm not picky." To prove him wrong, I pull another jin dui from the bag.

  "Our flight isn't until late tomorrow. I think we have time to go to Alcatraz or see the Golden Gate Bridge."

  My euphoria disintegrates. “Why?” Alcatraz is too closed in. And a bridge? Well, no. I don’t care if Ace holds my hand the entire time. No way. He only thinks he’s witnessed my inability to be normal.

  “Why not? I’ve never been here and I want to see things.”

  I remove my hand from his. If I don’t, he’ll feel the shaking that threatens.

  Ace leans in until his mouth is inches from the top of my head. “Don’t look around, but the old guy from the store followed us.” Ace speaks softly with a smile as he looks straight ahead.

  "You’re kidding," I say, stopping myself from turning my head.

  "Nope. It's him all right. What I can't imagine is how he's kept up with us. We've been walking fast and these hills aren't easy."

  "Maybe it's a coincidence." After a moment of silence, I say, "We can either try to lose him or find out why he’s following us."

  Ace stops walking. "Let's talk to him. I don't want to be looking over my shoulder the entire time we're here." He boldly raises his hand and waves at the old man who stands across the street.

  The old man raises his hand holding the umbrella and nods in return. He waits expectantly.

  Crossing the narrow street, we stop a couple of feet from him.

  "Are you following us?" Ace asks the man. He pulls me into his side.

  I’m tempted to smile because in spite of confronting a freaky stalker, Ace is still cocky.

  "The path has been put before you and you must follow it." The man doesn’t turn his head toward Ace, but addresses me. "You will accept your destiny."

  Destiny. The word crawls spider-like up my spine.

  Ace steps forward, almost shielding me from the old man. "I don't know who you are, but—"

  “I know about the box."

  That stops both of us from speaking. We stand staring at him. Ace pulls me even closer into his side and places his arm around my waist.

  Ace nods. “What about it?”

  “Theodore Hamlin was a dear friend to me. He told me about the box you were describing.”

  Did the old man overhear us in Teddy’s store? That has to be it because it’s too overwhelming to think we could have our answers this quickly.

  “The box has writing on it,” Ace says. “Do you know why?”

  “I wanted to tell you that Theodore believed his creations held power. He believed individuals could rise above the tragedy in our world. Theodore knew you would come.”

  “Can we get rid of the boxes?” I ask. I imagine myself chunking them into the ocean.

  “Mister, we need more information than some mumbo jumbo about power. No offense.” Ace begins to pull me back from the man. “We have to go. Don’t follow us again.”

  “Wait,” I say as I tug away from Ace.

  “Malerie, he doesn’t have any solid information.”

  “Be careful,” says the old man. “I can only say that you cannot fight your destiny.” With that final word, he turns and walks from us.

  I pivot into Ace, realizing he still has his arm around my waist. My free hand is on his chest and we stand for a moment, our bodies pressed together. I’m breathless. Every inch of my body tingles with an awareness of how his body touches mine. My gaze focuses on his lips and I can’t stop the electrical current coursing through me.

  “Excuse me,” says someone on the sidewalk as they move around us.

  I pull out of his arms and search for something to say. What was happening before I discovered that delicious feeling of being pressed against him?

  “Malerie?” he asks. “You with me?”

  He can’t be affected as much as I am. If he felt that charged moment like I had, he’d have kissed me or something, right? I look to the spot where the old man stood earlier. “Why aren’t we asking him more?”

  “Because we need to meet Teddy. We can’t be late.”

  Walking to 1515 to meet Teddy takes fifteen minutes. When we finally arrive, Teddy waits for us. He stands propped against the wall, reading his cell phone.

  "Hi Teddy," Ace says. "We're so glad you could meet us."

  "Glad to help. I come here a lot after work. I'm a bachelor who hates to cook." Teddy cheerfully leads the way inside.

  The hostess takes us to a black leather booth in a corner. I scoot in to the horseshoe shape to sit in the middle. The restaurant is dimly lit with black and white photos of old Hollywood movie stars lining the walls. Red glass sconces reflect candlelight across the booth.

  We order our drinks and I’m trying to focus on why we are here. I’ve avoided Ace’s eyes ever since leaving the spot where my world shifted.

  If I could wish for one thing in the entire world, one thing to make the universe okay with me, I’d wish to spend time with Ace. I can’t bring back the dead, but I can live now and for one brief second I know what I want.

  I force myself to pay attention to the guy we’ve come to see.

  Teddy takes a sip of his wine and then leans back in the booth. “So. What can I help you with concerning your box?”

  "I've only had the nested boxes for a short time. I figured out that the symbols are Moon type. I really need to know anything you can tell me about them. Someone who recently died gave me the boxes. Can I find out when he bought it? Anything like that?"

  "It could be difficult to tell you very much. We have a very simple inventory system at the store. We take specialty orders all the time. Give me his name. I can look in the customer database and see what comes up.” Teddy takes another sip from his glass.

  “His name is—was—John Toombs.”

  "Do you have an approximate year when you received them?"

  "Yes. This month.”

  Teddy nodded. "I'll put some notes into my phone and see what I can find tomorrow. Give me a number where I can reach you and I'll give you a call if anything turns up. You never know what I might be able to find in our system."

  “There’s also a fraction at the bottom. It says 1/1. What does that mean?”

  “There’s only the original,” answers Teddy.

  We order our food when the waiter arrives and then Ace quizzes Teddy about the shop. General information that I can’t concentrate on since my mind keeps wandering back to the moment on the sidewalk. Had Ace felt anything at all?

  Does he think of me as a neurotic basket-case?

  "If it was purchased that recently, I should recognize it and I don’t. Can I see the photographs again?" Teddy asks. "My father has been dead for years, and now we mainly reproduce his work or take commissions from other artists.”

  I pull up the image folder on my phone and hand it to Teddy.

  “Are these the only shots you have of the boxes?” Teddy squints at one of the photos on the small screen.

  I take the phone he passes across the table. “No. If you give me your email, I’ll send you more close-up shots.”

  Teddy gives me his email address and puts the photos away. “My dad was a little eccentric.” He smiles sadly. “He actually said he knew the tragedy of 9/11 was going to happen."

  "Knew how?" I ask.

  "He had dreams that year. We kiddingly talked about Joseph's coat of many colors and how Dad was like Joseph in 2001." Teddy smiles and shakes his head with a fond smile.

  "Joseph?" Ace raises his eyebrows.

  "From the Bible. Yeah. You know the story, right?" Teddy takes a sip of wine.

  I finally look at Ace. "Joseph had dr
eams that his brothers would bow down to him. When he told them, they threw him in a pit. And then it came true. Right, Teddy?"

  "That’s the story. So we talked a lot about my father's dreams. We said maybe he was like Joseph."

  "What kind of dreams? Prophetic ones? He dreamed about the planes hitting the towers?" Ace asks.

  "No. Not that specific. Dad said he dreamed a disaster would happen and it would kill a lot of people. He was distraught over it for days before it happened. Mom told him if it was meant to be, he couldn't do anything to stop it. That it wasn't his burden. He said there had to be a reason for the knowledge. It really weighed on him." Teddy shakes his head. "I thought he was going a little crazy and then it happened. It scared the crap out of me."

  My stomach bottoms out. Prophetic dreams. "There’s something else about my boxes. There's a number on each one. I think it's a date and time stamp."

  "No. My dad didn't date his work." Teddy shakes his head to assure me, but then his eyebrows lower. "Why do you think it's a date?"

  I hesitate for a split second. If I say it, will it make it true? "The first box, the largest box, has a UNIX computer stamp on it. It translates to the date and time for something that happened to me as a child. I think the event predicted on the second box occurred a little over a week ago. And I think the third box has something on it that hasn’t happened yet. The date is three days from today."

  No one says a word and Teddy rubs both hands over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

  His apology feels fatal.

  16

  Ace

  “You love my body and my soul is jealous.” ~Jelly Bean Queen

  I hate the look on Malerie’s face. If I could do something to stop the emotional bloodletting, I would. Fear pours from her, and I need to staunch the flow.

  “Teddy, come on man. You don’t really want to scare Malerie, do you?” It’s a rhetorical question and Teddy should reassure her now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits there with a shit-just-hit-the-fan look on his face.

  One grim corner of Teddy’s mouth lifts. “Sorry.”

  “You’re not following my plan to keep Malerie calm.” I inhale through my nostrils and rake my hand down the back of my neck.