Illusion of Luck 35

Normally, Chaucey’s work consumed her, and she thought of nothing else for eight to ten hours. At 7:00 AM, before sit­ting down at her computer, she always made herself a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch. Then, at around noon, on her way back from one of her few bathroom trips, she would grab it out of the fridge, along with a Diet Coke, and rush back to her computer desk. A couple of times she had forgotten to put the ham on her sandwich. No problem. She never even noticed it was missing.

Even trips to the bathroom were not wasted. There were always design issues to work out in her head while walking to and from, and even while on the pot.

But today was different. She stared at a computer screen of images that made no sense to her. All Chaucey could think about was Crow. In the past, thoughts of him only concerned what movie they would watch or what would be ordered for din­ner. He was just a buddy to unwind with after a hard day’s work.

She picked up her cell phone. This was so strange to her. Why did she feel she must hear his voice right this minute? They would be together for dinner. Couldn’t she wait until then?

Crow’s cell phone went directly to voice mail, and she hung up.

Just as well, she thought. What kind of message would that send if she called him while he was at work? She’d never done that before.

Reading a little news would get her mind off him, she fig­ured. But after reading only two paragraphs, she found herself googling Bagley’s and calling the store.

“Bagley’s Food Mart.” It was a young-sounding woman’s voice.

“Yes, could I please speak to Crow Bagley?”

“Uh, just a moment, please.”

Chaucey could only hear mumbling.

Then Crow’s father took the phone. “This Kroger Bagley. May I help you?”

“Hi. This is Chaucey Reed, and I’d like to speak with Crow—that is, if he’s not too busy, Sir.”

He sounded thrilled. “Oh yes, Chaucey. We’ve heard so much about you. Crow’s always saying ‘Chaucey did this’ and ‘Chaucey said that.’”

What had Crow been telling his parents? Did they think she was dating their son? Sleeping with him? “Well, I would like to meet y’all.”

“Great.”

“I know Crow’s working, but is he available to talk for just a minute?”

“He’s not here, Chaucey.”

“Oh.”

“When he asked me for a couple of days off this morning I figured the two of you had special plans. But I didn’t ask. I try not to pry too much.”

“Oh, I see.” Surely Crow wasn’t about to knock on her door and ask her to elope. “Must be a sur­prise.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please don’t tell him I said anything.”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, you two kids have fun. Can’t wait to meet you, Chau­cey.”

After she hung up, she walked over to Crow’s apartment and let herself in. He had entrusted her with a key many months earlier.

Maybe there was a brochure or a scribbled note some­where, she thought. But she found nothing to indicate what he was up to. Then she bumped the mouse to bring his computer to life.

His email program was open. She hated to snoop, but really needed to know what was going on. The subject for one of the emails was an airline ticket confirmation.

Oh no, she thought. He is planning a trip. How would she let him down gently? She just wasn’t ready for that. What if the tickets were non-refundable? Then she might feel obligated to go.

But the reservation was only for one person—to Orlando. What’s going on here?

She opened the other browser window and saw the familiar page of Barry Undermine. Crow needs to just forget about Barry, she thought. Chaucey wished she could.

She had not seen this chapter. It made her cringe, reading about the beautiful young woman who met the manipulative writer in a motel room and had wild sex with him. That woman was her. What if Crow thought that was what really hap­pened?

Chaucey refreshed the page to see if anyone had com­mented, and was surprised to see a new chapter that had been posted early that morning.

Clearly, Barry was still after Cynthia. But how foolish of him to announce his intentions on the web. Greg and Cynthia would surely be following his writings and alert the police imme­diately.

She couldn’t believe she had ever been interested in such a man. The writing that had days before seduced her, now made her skin crawl. He would force Cynthia to have sex with him so she would have his baby. What kind of sick, twisted mind would refer to that as ‘the fulfillment of my fan­tasy in Orlando?’

Then it clicked. “Crow went to Orlando to hunt down Barry.”

But it could go terribly wrong, she thought. Crow might yell to him from across the street. Barry starts running and leads him into a dark alley. When Crow follows him in, he doesn’t see Barry at first. Then he sees the gun—too late.

If Crow would only answer his phone. She knew that once his mind was set, there was no stopping him. Crow was on a mission: to avenge the attempted rape of the woman he loves.

Now she wondered if she loved Crow. Just two days earlier she wasn’t even thinking ‘Crow’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence.

The question of love could be decided later. Right now, she had to keep him from doing something crazy and getting him­self killed.

She clicked back to the confirmation email, picked up the desk phone, and called Continental Airlines to see if there was still a seat available on Crow’s flight.

**********

Greg and Cynthia were in Disney-MGM Studios park, on their way to The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror.

“I need to stop by the restroom, Sweetie.” Greg gave his wife a quick peck on the lips and walked toward the restroom.

Cynthia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, bathing her face in the warm Florida sun. It was late February, and 70 degrees in Orlando—about ten degrees warmer than Corey­ville, she figured.

“Nice day, huh?”

She heard the man’s voice, but didn’t realize at first that he was talking to her.

“Uh, yes. Yes, it is.”

“You and your husband look like newlyweds.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I saw him kiss you before he went in the restroom.”

“I see.” What made this ponytailed guy an authority on mar­riage? He couldn’t have been over 25, and he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“Have you two been to the Tower of Terror?”

“We’re on our way.”

“Oh, you’ll love it. As long as you don’t have a weak stom­ach like I do.” He laughed. “Yeah, the first time I rode it I ended up shooting chunks all over the gray-hairs in front of me.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah, I felt sorry for those poor old ladies. They got mad at me. But then they started throwing up too.”

“So, they couldn’t handle the ride either.”

“No, I think it was so much the ride as it was the puke run­ning down the back of their necks.” He laughed. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t laugh at those old ladies.” He saw Greg coming out of the bathroom. “Well, anyway, have fun!” He walked away.

“Who was that?” Greg put his sunglasses back on.

“I don’t know. But he was warning me about the Tower of Ter­ror. Made me wonder whether I have the stomach for it.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’ve seen you handle some very tough situations. I can’t imagine there’s anything out here that can take you down. Now, me, on the other hand…”

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’ll hold your hand.” She took his hand and kissed it.

“Well, then I guess I’ll be okay.”

She smiled seductively as she slowly licked one of his knuckles.

“There is one wild ride that doesn’t scare me at all. In fact, I could ride all night long. And unless you want me to hop aboard right now, you’d better quit licking my hand.”

She stopped abruptly and grinned. “Okay. Let’s go ride the Tower of Terror.”

They started walking.

“We’ll save your favorite ride for tonight. It’s my favorite too,” she said with a wink.

**********

The ponytailed young man watched Greg and Cynthia walk toward the Tower of Terror. He had raised the pitch of his voice slightly and used a Midwest accent. That, along with his clean-shaven face, the ponytail, and his youthful attire had completely fooled her.

Now he knew he could walk up to her and start talking, and she would not be afraid of him. And by the time she realized his true identity, she would be his.