“You mean the night you avoided me?”
“Stop. She was dark-brown-skinned and had white hair, and you held the door open for her. She called you handsome.”
“Wow, Rico. And here I thought you weren’t paying me any attention.”
I glare at him.
Of course he laughs. “I’m just messin’ with you. Sure. I remember her.”
That’s a relief at least. “Well, I need to find her,” I say.
“Why?”
I anticipated this question. I really did. Just failed to come up with a viable response. “I…wanna reconnect with her.”
“Ah-ha.” He clasps his hands in his lap. “So what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, for one, you’re the only other person I know who knows what she looks like.” Besides my boss, but hopefully he won’t ask about that.
“And for two?” He winks.
I turn away. “Well, I heard you’re maybe, ahh…good with computers?”
“Oh?”
“Something about you getting kicked out of private school for hacking the main server and giving the entire eighth-grade football team straight As?”
He lifts his chin, but not before I see the wicked twinkle in his eye. “I know naught of which you speak, Agent Danger.”
“Agent Danger? Seriously?”
He blushes again!
Which makes my face hot. Thankful for my skin’s high melanin content in this moment.
(This is getting ridiculous.)
Clear my throat. “I need to get into the security camera footage from Christmas Eve to see if I can get a license plate for her.”
“She got into a taxi.”
My head whips left. “She did?!”
“Yep.”
“Do you remember the name of the cab company?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t say I do.”
“Okay. So the security footage is my only hope, then—”
“So you want me to hack the security archives at your place of employment?”
I swallow. “Basically.”
“Nope.” And he crosses his arms.
I sigh.
“Not unless you tell me why you need to find her,” he says.
I take a deep breath. Inhale a whiff of his (sorcerous) cologne.
Which probably costs more than our weekly grocery budget.
Now every time I breathe, I wonder how obvious it is to him: the fact that I have so much less than he does. Can he smell the five-dollar (for the big size) Johnson’s baby lotion on my skin or the two-dollar Suave conditioner I left in my curly hair? What would he say if he knew my skirt was held together by a safety pin or that I use the laces in these shoes for a different pair as well?
What kind of assumptions will he make if I tell him about the ticket?
Yeah, I could say what I planned to: I think the lady is holding on to a big winner and doesn’t know it. That she made an impression on me, and I think she deserves to cash that ticket in and enjoy the rest of her time here in this often-unkind world.
But will he believe me?
Also: What happens if he decides he wants the ticket? Even rich people seem likely to jump at the chance to get more money. Hell, if Ponzi schemes and corporate fraud are any indication, rich people seem especially likely….
“Danger? You good over there?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod.
Because what other option do I have? If he can hack the security footage, I need him.
So I take a deep breath. And swallow. And let the cooler-than-expected breeze blowing up my skirt jolt me back to reality.
Then I look Zan Macklin right in his money-green eyes.
And I tell him about fairy godgranny and the ticket.
While currently smeared in discarded—and rotting—milk/egg mixture (did someone make French toast?) and covered with stringy stuff from the old banana peel I wound up smashed against, I felt it important that you see me.
Our beloved Rico isn’t much of a dreamer—years of forced adulthood and hindered ambition will do that to a girl—but in a fit of sleepless fervor, she scribbled me onto the legal pad where she makes the “monthly budget and bills” lists…then promptly ripped me out, crushed me up tight like I’d insulted her mama, and slammed me into the trash can.
Bit rude, but whatever. Observe:
Things I would do if I had a $47.2-million lump sum
Buy a nice house–4 bedroom/4.5 bath, two stories plus basement, pool preferably in a subdivision with “On the River” in its name and walk-in pantry in the kitchen
Health insurance GOOD health insurance
Probably buy a second, smaller house just for me
Decent car for me
Volvo XC90 for Mama
Buy Jaxy every Lego set there is
Give a crap-ton to charities that help poor kids, especially around Christmas
Jaxy college fund
At 7:33 Saturday morning, Zan-the-Man Macklin shuffles into the Gas ’n’ Go with his shirt misbuttoned and his thick, dark hair sticking straight up on one side.
It’s way more attractive than I was distinctly prepared for.
Gotta shake it off.
“You’re here!” I say, rushing over to grab his forearm and pull him to Mr. Z’s office.
He groans. “This relationship isn’t gonna last if you insist on dragging me along, IQ.”
I pull the chair out from beneath the desk and shove him down into it. Then I kneel in front of the desk. “IQ?”
“Ice Queeeeeeen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say as I input the password that unlocks the fancy flat-screen-monitor/actual-computer-part-in-one: getgasandgetitfast1. “I’m as warm as freshly baked bread.”
He snorts and lets his head fall back.