Bad Luck

Prologue. Fortune Teller

(*Author's Note: These are sample chapters of the book.

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*Prelude*  

Fortune Teller

The old woman walked into the bar trying to find the boy.

She knew she could always find him perched over the counter of a bar. The boy's mother tried to keep him away from places like this, but as he got older, it became difficult to control him. They often stopped near these middle-of-the-road joints during their many travels from town to town along the East Coast, and the boy would always find his way to a bar.

He would always head straight for the lonely bartenders too. They were his favorite choice of prey. Bartenders were usually very cranky and tired from their underpaid job, the long hours, and the harassment from scumbags that loitered in places like this, but the boy knew how to play his cards. He only needed to throw the right compliment, show that Cheshire cat smile of his, and the women turned putty in his hands, quick as a wink.

Tonight's bartender wasn't exactly pretty, but she was enough to keep his interest. The girl looked pleased with the attention she was receiving. It didn't come as a surprise, a young thing like him with the looks of a Rock Star was a real treat in a place like this.

The boy observed with a lazy gaze in the dimly lit room, while the bartender scurried back and forth at the other side of the counter, pretending that she hadn't noticed him.

He made a comment to catch her attention, exchanging witty banter back and forth, light laughs and flirting, his game of Cat-and-Mouse. The girl didn't know she had no chance to win this game. He was an expert in all cat games after all.

He leaned over the counter and his face was momentarily caught under the spotlight. The girl couldn't hide the admiration that flashed across her face. The boy sure was good-looking, the old woman had to admit that. With hair dark as a thick blotch of ink, sun-kissed skin, and a young body that promised to shape into an impressive sight as a grown man.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" The bartender asked while trying to hide how impressed she was with him.

"There's nothing wrong with my eyes, silly," he said in a syrupy voice. "I can see your pretty face just fine."

The bartender giggled as he shot her a flirty wink.

The old woman decided she had seen enough and called after him, as loud as she could, "Nikolai!"

The boy jumped, startled, and turned towards the bellowing voice.

"There you are, Nikolai! Always perched over a bar! Why are you not eating with the rest of the crew in the Diner, boy?" The old woman berated as she approached him at the counter.

The bartender excused herself when a customer called for a drink at the back of the bar, leaving them alone for the moment.

"It's Nicholas." The boy corrected the old lady in a clipped tone and a scolding glare. "I told you not to call me that anymore, Ivovla!" He hissed as soon as the bartender was out of earshot. "We've been in this country for how long now? My name is Nicholas here! Nicholas, not Nikolai."

Ivovla waved a dismissive hand at him and the dozen beads and metal bangles she had on her wrists clashed loudly with the movement.

"Pish, posh! You'll always be my Niko, silly boy."