Lucky - by Erin Latimer

Play the Game

Kiran took out one of the glass vials and tucked it into his pocket, along with one of the strips of cloth. “Easier to knock out the guards than try to bribe them.” He continued to mutter to himself as he went from box to box, collecting his tools. I watched silently, fear and irritation churning in my stomach as he unrolled a package of leather, revealing a great many shiny tools that looked more like something you’d see in the dreaded dentist’s office, than a lock picking kit.

            He shoved the leather package into his overcoat and straightened up. “Alright. Are you ready?”

            I nodded in spite of the fact that my skin was crawling. I wasn’t ready, I really wasn’t ready for any of this. My bones seemed to have melded together, and I couldn’t move. Was it because this was such a huge gamble? Or was it more than that? If I turned away and walked down the hall, that meant I’d never see Kiran again, didn’t it?

            When I looked up, Kiran wasn’t even looking at me, he was adjusting something in the pockets of his coat. A wave of bitterness crashed over me. He clearly wasn’t thinking about this the same way I was. His single-mindedness was completely obvious, and really, it always had been. I was the one who had thrown myself at him. It was time to stop acting like a silly girl. After all, I wasn’t actually a prissy lady. Just pretending in order to win a lot of money.

            Gold. That was enough motivation for me.

            “Ten minutes,” I said loudly, and Kiran glanced up, apparently startled. I turned for the door, determined not to glance back over my shoulder at him. As I stepped through into the hallway I heard him call after me,

            “Cassandra, be careful.”

            I paused for a moment, almost tempted to go back, then I squared my shoulders and grumbled to myself, forcing myself to stride forward, shoes making muffled clacking noises on the thin carpet. I punched the elevator button a little more viciously than I needed to, and hugged myself, goosebumps forming on my arms in spite of the warmth of the hotel.

            I had a death grip on the little hand bag that held the silver, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was eager to spend it, or I was starting to go into panic mode.

            I told myself it was the former.

            “I can do this,” I breathed to myself, and then looked around quickly, thankful when I saw that no one else was around to hear me talking to myself like a lunatic.

            The elevator doors creaked open, and I stepped onboard, feeling almost sick when it began to lurch downwards. I could hear the rusted scrape of the metal cord lowering the box down, and it made me smile slightly. What if the cord broke and I simply plunged to my death before any of this could even begin?

            I must have a sick sense of humor, because the idea amused me so much I snickered a little, glancing up at the roof like I might be able to see the fraying elevator cord right through the top of the little metal box I was riding in.

            Apparently it wasn’t my destiny to plummet to my death though, because the elevator stopped suddenly, nearly making me overbalance. I clung to the railing on the side and watched the doors open with a squeal. There was a couple standing in the lobby waiting for the elevator, a dapper looking young man with a frilly lady on his arm.

            They both gave me a surprised look, obviously shocked that I was on my own, and then they recovered, the gentleman giving me a little bow, just a dip at the waist, and the woman nodding her head gracefully at me.