16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Gio

I stash Jack's record bag in my permanent locker at the mall. I'm not walking into the casino looking like a delivery boy. It's bad enough that the bag has wrinkled my shirt and jacket a little bit. This suit is expensive, but it doesn't look the same when it's crushed.

I double check I've locked my locker before I put the key back into the concealed compartment of my fine leather wallet. I slip the wallet back into the hidden inner pocket of my jacket, and I smooth down the fabric slowly.

One glance around me has me wishing we could move back to a small town.

The mall is jam-packed with shoppers and it's seriously annoying how many people don't seem to have any spacial awareness while they're moving through crowds. I swear to God, this place is what hell will look like when I eventually get there.

Sometimes I even wonder if I'm already in the bad place.

So few truly good things seem to happen in this life.

Pain starts to feel like the only thing that can be counted on.

Pain, and stupid people.

This city is full of them.

I let out a disgusted grunt as I move away from the main part of the crowd.

Finally. I move toward the exit doors, ready to leave this vicious circle of hell behind.

A strange feeling washes over me as I get to the doors, making me turn to look back.

Is someone staring at me? Or am I just being paranoid because I'm about to do something Enzo definitely wouldn't appreciate?

It's probably the latter.

I don't catch anyone looking, but I do notice there's a candy store in my line of sight.

I haven't had a candy bar in a very long time. They were few and far between when I was a kid, and by the time my mom passed, I'd found other, more exciting things to obsess over.

So why do I feel like I want to go buy something?

I don't have an answer. I wouldn't call it a craving.

There's nothing specific on my mind when I move toward the store, weaving my way past enough people to make me start to reconsider this sudden, chased instinct.

I've never ignored it when I felt this way before, and it almost always leads to good things.

Maybe my pack's run of bad luck is over.

This could be the moment when everything turns around.

I step into the store and start moving past the other customers, seeking out whatever drew me to this place. Nothing on the shelves calls to me, and I don't notice anyone I might know or who might know me.

Strange.

I know something made me walk in here.

I start to head out when I see a quarter on the ground.

I'm compelled to pick it up.

This.

It's what drew me over here.

I know it.

I turn it over in my hand, but it's just a regular quarter.

It feels like a bad joke.

My pack need real money, not spare change dropped by kids.

I flip it in my hand.

Tails, I toss it into a charity box. Heads, I keep it for luck.

Heads. I guess it's a lucky quarter.

When I'm about to hit the blackjack tables, a little extra good luck is never a bad thing.

I put the quarter in my pocket as I leave the mall.