The Fortune Master

Chapter 4

Today was the day. Connie didn't even look at her family as she swiftly moved out of the house, grabbing what she needed on the way. She had to go find that woman. This was quickly becoming one of the most important things in her life.

She ran down the street in a blur, the slight downhill angle boosting her heels faster and faster by the second. There was a point where Connie was almost gliding down the smooth pavement. She could feel a few jagged pebbles pointing straight into her feet through the fabric of her flats. A few of her neighbors frowned in confusion at her, but she didn't care. After the note, she had to get to that woman she'd bumped into. And she knew just where to look.

If luck was on her side—which, at this point, wasn't really something she needed to cross her fingers for—then the woman would be there. She could feel the note she'd found a couple of days ago in her pocket bouncing as she ran. There was no way Connie was leaving it at home for something like this.

The picture was a sort of rebus, she thought. If you said it aloud the right way—or maybe just looked at it and guessed—you'd be able to tell what exactly it was. And Connie could do that.

She stopped as the hill was no longer pointing downward and pulled the creepy note out of her pocket. It was about something powerful that didn't belong in this world and some guy needing her help. Then there was this—MEAT (star, sun, coffee mug) 03301800.

03301800 meant 03/30, March 30th, and 1800 was a kind of code put in the standard military format—1800 was 6:00 p.m. It had taken her 24 hours to figure out that one.

Then there was the star, sun, and the coffee mug. When she looked at it the right way, she realized it could be the Starlight Cafe, which was the place she'd spilled coffee on the woman three days ago. But perhaps not on the woman... Perhaps just on the floor.

Then came the MEAT part. It was most likely just a small little inconvenient tick to the word MEET, but it could also mean she'd have to ask for the one item with meat they had on the menu, so they'd know it was her. Either way, she'd do it.

The final part said NCG345-403. She still had a hard time figuring out that one. Was it a flight number of some kind? Maybe it was the name of an airplane. Every time she looked at it she thought of the flying machines, so that had to be a part of it.

Connie began running again, but she didn't have to. The cafe was so close by now. Today wasn't March 30th just yet, and it was 9:00 a.m., but she still needed to be at the cafe. She had to figure things out. That other woman—she knew she was probably overreacting over her, and she was probably just some poor sap Connie had bumped into, but there was something about her that made Connie need to see her again. And the only place she knew that the woman would go was the cafe—what a very eerie coincidence. What if she was this FM guy after all?

Connie stepped inside the cafe and recognized the woman immediately—probably because she was the only one there. There were no cashiers, no customers, no waiters—it was just that one woman and her laptop.

But she was sure it was the same one. The woman looked about 24, Connie's age, and had soft chocolate brown skin and braids. That, however, was quite normal in Astryl. What made Connie so sure was her eyes—the same, deep, azure blue eyes that somehow trembled when anyone looked at them.

The woman didn't see her until Connie was standing right in front of her. "Um... Can I help you?"

"Why are you the only person in here?" she questioned. "I'm dealing with something important, and I need to know."

"Honestly, I don't know," the woman told her. "I'm Theresa Jones, and I write for the JonesBlog. That's why I'm here. But no one else seems to be."

"You're Theresa Jones?" asked Connie. "I—that's—you're so— incredible...?"

"Yes, I am." Theresa physically dismissed it. "Did you know the rest of the world is experiencing some type of bad luck? It's kind of creepy to me."

"'Rest of the world'?" asked Connie. "So ... you aren't experiencing bad luck?"

"No, actually," she told her. "Great luck, to be honest. I don't believe in luck, but now I don't even know what to call it!"

"Me neither," she told Theresa slowly. "I'm Connie Stewart. I think there's something really weird going on here... I found this note when I was playing with my younger siblings." She handed it to her.

"Whoa... That's so creepy!" Theresa rubbed her blue eyes. "But ... why are you telling me?"

"I think this concerns you, too, because we're both not having bad luck. What makes us so different?" Connie demanded. "This is crazy important."

"You're right," said Theresa. "But one of my cousin's co-workers is having really good luck, too. Should I bring him into this?"

"Yes—definitely. I'll copy down this note for you, and can I get your email or phone number? I'll communicate a meeting time—we'll meet here sometime." Theresa nodded and wrote down her phone number: theresajonesblog@gmail.com.

"Send me whatever—I'll tell him." Theresa grinned. "Glad you found me."

"I'm not surprised," Connie said. "I hate this luck."

"I don't mind it," Theresa told her. "I personally think it's pretty good. All this luck, and we might be able to put everything back the way it should be."