Lucky Suit Read online

  * * *

  And that’s another clue. Right there, dropped like a delicious bread crumb. I pick it up.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: “We” scientists?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: I mean “we” as in the royal “we.”

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Now you’re royal?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Royally going to beat you in the next hand.

  * * *

  And she does just that. Then she kills me again. Each time, she’s sassy. She’s witty. She’s firing off all sorts of one-liners, and it sure seems like my fishing line is catching something.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Are you ready to admit defeat at my hand?

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Never surrender. I’ll soldier on.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Ah, I see you are relentless. Would you describe yourself as relentless?

  * * *

  That’s an easy question to answer. All I have to do is look at the elbow grease Lulu and I put into building the concept of the stores and her line of chocolate. Yes.

  But before I reply, I set the phone down on the wooden table next to my lounge chair. I stare up at the darkening sky, twilight falling at last. The stars will shove their way to the blanket of night soon enough.

  Reminding me of something.

  Something that explains why I’m liking chatting with Jeanne in a way I shouldn’t be liking. Something that tells me that maybe Jeanne isn’t Jeanne.

  She said: “We scientists.”

  She loves to ask questions.

  She’s particularly fiery.

  I believe I’ve caught something on the fishing line.

  And I’m going to turn the tables on her.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Absolutely. I am tenacious, determined, and focused. What about you? Oh, wait, am I allowed to ask the same questions? No, of course not. Let me rephrase. What is your favorite quality in yourself?

  * * *

  As the three dots flash on the screen, I can’t wait to see what Not-Jeanne says.

  5

  Kristen

  * * *

  The Crock-Pot is off.

  The presentation is done.

  I’m winning at poker.

  Grams is still tinkering in the garage.

  And I’m weirdly having a blast inspecting her new man-friend. He’s hilarious. And forward. And direct.

  I love a good question-asker. What is my favorite quality?

  As I drum my unpolished nails against the counter, I laugh out loud. It’s the very quality that has me talking to Grams’s man-friend. And it’s the quality I learned from the woman herself. So it’s with complete forthrightness that I answer.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Inquisitiveness.

  * * *

  But once I send that, it’s not enough. So I add a little something more.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: As you can see, since I’ve demonstrated it tonight. I possess it in buckets.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Indeed you have, and it seems you have amassed quite a bucketful. Can I assume that inquisitiveness extends to the heavens above us? The stars in all their glory?

  * * *

  Whoa. Grams’s friend is reeling me in with his talk of my favorite thing. He’s getting the full seal of approval.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: My curiosity extends to the far reaches of the Milky Way and beyond. After all, knowing the stars helps us to know ourselves, I like to say.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: And why do you like to say that?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: They remind us of our place in the universe—how vast the universe truly is, but how we can still play valuable roles in it.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Ah, is there anything better than philosophizing on why we’re here?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Nothing, nothing at all!

  * * *

  My face glows. He’s so not a serial killer. He’s perfect for me.

  I mean for her.

  He’s perfect for her.

  He’s absolutely ideal for Grams. I start to tap a reply, when my own phone dings. I ignore it at first, but it chimes again, and I check it.

  * * *

  Mom: Hey, has Grams said anything to you about the guy she met at the car auction?

  * * *

  I squint at her question like it holds some clue to who the guy on the other end of the poker chat really is. I play coy to see what else Mom knows.

  * * *

  Kristen: No. What guy? Did she tell you anything about him?

  * * *

  Mom: Not enough! I’m trying to figure out if she’s gone on a date with him yet. She mentioned to me that they’d chatted after she snagged the Camaro, and I was hoping it would lead to something more. :)

  * * *

  Kristen: Well, did you ask her?

  * * *

  Mom: Gee. Why didn’t I think of that? ;)

  * * *

  Kristen: Want me to play spy for you?

  * * *

  Mom: Yes, go full 007.

  * * *

  Kristen: Anything for the woman who owns the high-rise building and lets her mom and me live here at cost.

  * * *

  Mom: Cost? Lady, I let you two live there at way less than cost.

  * * *

  Kristen: The things we do for family.

  * * *

  As I hit send, I spot a reply from the dating site, and a new sensation blooms inside me. Hope.

  Hope that ThinkingMan has reached back out, because chatting with LuckySuit reminds me how much I liked talking to ThinkingMan. And that’s exactly why I started a profile in the first place—to find that connection.

  I click over, and there he is.

  * * *

  ThinkingMan: Hey, Telescoper. Are you looking at the stars again tonight? I hear Cassiopeia is going to show off and twinkle.

  * * *

  Telescoper: She always struts her stuff! But right now? I’m chatting. And thinking.

  * * *

  ThinkingMan: They are two of my favorite activities.

  * * *

  Telescoper: I’d like to ask what the third is, but that might be too forward. So let me ask something else—why don’t you believe opposites attract?

  * * *

  ThinkingMan: It’s a myth. A fairy tale. It’s handed down from storytellers because it makes a good story.

  * * *

  As I type, Grams’s man replies on her phone, and I whip my head to that screen, setting my phone down before I can write back to ThinkingMan.

  I read LuckySuit’s answer, trying to remember what we were last talking about in the poker app. Like a juggler, I’m tossing the conversation balls higher in the air, trying to keep my eyes on all of them. First ball—Mom and I were discussing some guy Grams met at the auction. Second ball—ThinkingMan and I are chatting about stars and opposites repelling. Third ball—Grams’s friend LuckySuit and I were gabbing about . . .

  We were talking about understanding how we all fit into the bigger picture. That’s what his reply is about.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: I had a feeling you liked all things logical, scientific, and mathematical.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Math is the bomb. I could do it all night and never grow tired.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: All night long? That’s some serious numerical stamina.

  * * *

  I shimmy my shoulders back and forth. It’s like I’ve consumed ten energy drinks and I’m tossing the balls in a dazzlingly high arc. I am a most excellent spy.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: I once entered a multiplication marathon. I won.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Impressive. How long did it last?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Why, I thought you’d never ask. ;) Seven hours and
ten minutes. I won a calculator. Have you ever done a marathon?

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Yes. Do you want to ask how long it was?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: As a matter of fact, I think I do want to ask that. :)

  * * *

  I reread my last reply. And the one before. And before.

  My jaw drops.

  I’m falling too far out of character. I don’t sound like Grams. I sound like me talking. Admittedly, Grams’s guy is kind of cool and interesting, and he’s passing all my screening tests. But I need to make sure I don’t sound too much like her twenty-eight-year-old granddaughter.

  Or like I’m flirting with him.

  Wait. Am I flirting with this guy? Maybe a little?

  It’s kind of weird that I’m enjoying it.

  I take a breath.

  I’ll just go chat with ThinkingMan for a bit, so I don’t get too carried away with the charade again.

  I toggle over to exit the poker app when LuckySuit replies, and my eyes pop wide.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: And might that be because you’re actually Kristen?

  * * *

  Busted. The balls tumble down.

  6

  Cameron

  * * *

  Someone turns up the speakers, and Panic! at the Disco takes over the evening air poolside.

  Smiling to myself, I reread the conversation. I had a feeling, and I was right.

  And I have to admit, I think Jeanne might have been onto something when she dropped her anvil-size hints yesterday at the car auction about her granddaughter being single. She clearly thought we’d be a good match, and maybe she had the right idea.

  Kristen is one fiery lady, and I dig that.

  I dig that a hell of a lot.

  But I especially like honesty.

  And Kristen’s showing it right now when she answers my question.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Gulp.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Would that be a yes?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: I think it’s patently obvious the answer is a yes. As in yes, I’m Kristen. I’m the scientist. I’m her twenty-eight-year-old granddaughter. I’m weirdly good at poker. I also did a multiplication marathon post-college, so you can call me a geek girl, but I’ll have you know I competed in Roller Derby in high school and college, so yeah, they balance each other. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Let’s talk about this Roller Derby. That’s seriously impressive.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Hold on. We can’t keep talking. I can’t talk to you like this. I was simply trying to ascertain what your intentions were with my grams!

  * * *

  I spit up my drink. Seriously? I stare at the question on the screen. She seriously just asked me that? I crack up as I type.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: My intentions with Jeanne? That’s why you were working me over like a detective trying to shake down a perp?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: That’s exactly the effect I was going for. I see it worked.

  * * *

  I swear I can picture the bespectacled brunette perfectly—hands on hips, arms akimbo, chin up. Challenging me. And yes, for the record, she looks cute in the photo my mind just snapped. I don’t need Photoshop for her.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Let me get this straight. You were slinging your litany of questions at me to determine if I’d be a good man to date your grandma?

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Of course. Someone has to look out for her. Family is important, like we were saying.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Family is mega, super-duper, supremely important.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: So . . . ticktock. Intentions. What are they, mister?

  * * *

  She is too adorable. Too in your face. Too bold. And I like it.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Let me lay things out for you. I have no intentions with her other than friendship. And there are many reasons for that. But one of them starts and ends with family—my uncle is interested in her! Which also means . . . wait for it . . . I’m not your Grams’s age.

  * * *

  She doesn’t reply right away, and as the indicator lights bounce around, I snap a photo of the darkening sky then take in my surroundings, enjoying how different Miami is from my current home in Manhattan.

  I breathe in the salt air and the warm breeze. I hear someone splashing, and I wish momentarily that this life was mine. I take the time to savor everything that’s not New York City, from the pace, to the pools, to the waves, to the vast stretches of sand.

  Most of all, to the mood. I do love the vibe of this tropical city. Especially now.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: So your uncle is the guy from the car auction?

  * * *

  LuckySuit: He runs it.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: He’s not an ax murderer?

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Not that I’m aware of.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Because you’d know if he was? He’d tell you?

  * * *

  LuckySuit: We’re close. I’d like to think he’d divulge his profession as well as his hobbies.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: How do you think that sort of thing comes up? “By the way, last night I accomplished a career high of six bloody murders.”

  * * *

  LuckySuit: Ah, so he’s not just an ax murderer but a successful one? Also, it’s adorable that you’re screening her beaux. I suppose on behalf of Uncle Joe I should inquire if Jeanne’s into him.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Not to be direct, but also to be totally direct, who are you? I thought you were some man-friend of hers, and it turns out you are indeed her man-friend, but you’re also not her age. You’re younger. Please say you’re not a teenager!

  * * *

  LuckySuit: I’ve been out of my teens for a while, but my AARP membership is still a ways off.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: Fine. The other question. Who exactly are you?

  * * *

  I glance at my shirt, my shorts, my drink. I consider the photos I take. I think about the eclectic mix of rock and indie music on my phone. I imagine my friends in New York. Who am I? I’m a lot of things.

  * * *

  LuckySuit: I’m the guy who believes in luck and chance. I’m the dude who plays online poker with your grandma because she’s a riot and she makes me laugh, and she has ever since I met her at the car auction the other month. I’m the person who likes music and books and philosophy. I think chocolate is heaven on earth, and beer is a damn delicious beverage. And I like people. Always have. It’s possible the word “gregarious” has been used to describe me. That’s probably why I get along well with Jeanne. I’m outgoing, and so is she. She’s also proud of you.

  * * *

  HotRodLover: That’s quite a résumé you shared. Almost like an online dating profile. By the way, what has she said about me? Maybe that I’m an inquisitive troublemaker?