Page 3 of Lady Luck's Kiss
“Orange and white” she said carefully, surprised that she knew the answer.
“Exactly!” he cheered. “Congratulations, Charlotte! You can see a 1969 restored Indy pace car at the fairgrounds this weekend. Your tickets will be available at the front desk for pick up anytime tomorrow. Charlotte, stay on the line while we get some information. But for all the rest of you, enjoy this next song by a band that is also playing in concert in November in Houston.”
Charlotte clutched the phone as she cradled it to her head. She never won, ever. Certain this was a hoax, she waited patiently on the line expecting the call to go dead or something. Instead, a woman’s voice came on the phone and gathered all sorts of information from her.
When the woman started to rattle off directions to the station to pick up her winnings, Charlotte scrambled for a pen. Writing carefully on the desk calendar by the register, she circled the note carefully on the well-worn paper and stared at her writing as the call was finished.
She’d won!
She’d apparently won two-hundred-and-nine dollars, since the radio station was 104.5 and she had doubled her winnings. It didn’t sound like much, but the money was welcomed and would be going into her slush fund. The tickets, however, were another story. She thought about selling them if she could but according to the woman on the phone, they were fantastic seats and Charlotte had never been to a bull riding competition.
There was a first time for everything apparently…it was a first for her to win and would be a first for her to see a bull riding competition. Perhaps her luck was changing for the better.
Did fate have a change of heart? she thought and tossed the keys up in the air, catching them. Hopping in the Camaro, she put the key in the ignition and gave a silent prayer as she uttered one aloud.
“Please,” Charlotte whispered repeatedly. “Please, please, please!” as she shut her eyes, and turned the key. She cracked one eye open as she heard the engine struggle to turn over and then rumble to life. The roar from the exhaust was deafening as the monster engine gave way and surged.
“Yes!” she shouted, pounding her hands on the steering wheel in glee. Studying the dials for a moment, she leapt out of the seat to inspect the engine block for any leaks. Seeing none, she launched herself back inside of the car to check the gauges once again for any signs of a problem and promptly shut off the car so the carbon monoxide didn’t kill her before she got to drive the Camaro.
Charlotte was ecstatic that it started, but there were still a few minor things to be done before it could be driven.Baby steps, she thought and danced around excitedly for a moment. She would celebrate and treat herself to a cold beer, a hot bath, and a show! Charlotte would use the tickets for herself and see if she could get someone to go with her.
Scrubbing her hands in the shop sink with pumice soap, she looked around and picked up a mop before heading in. Running the mop over the concrete floors, she wrung it out and put it up to dry in the corner. Going up the steps into the waiting area, she locked the shop door behind her and locked the register. Throwing out a few magazines and wiping down the cushions on the chairs, Charlotte could not help the smile on her face.
For the moment, she felt like Lady Luck was on her side. If it could stay this way for a week or two she would be thrilled. It wasn’t that she had back luck, Charlotte had no luck at all. It was as simple as that. She made her way and didn’t wait for things to drop into her lap. This had always been her mantra and would remain that way. But if something good were to happen to her, she’d take full advantage of it.
Turning off all the switches downstairs, she raced up the stairs to her little apartment above the garage. The open screen windows allowed a breeze even in the September evening.
Charlotte very rarely ran the A/C unless she absolutely had to. Her job involved her working in the outdoors, and she rarely noticed the lack of cold air in the evenings after sweating all day. Unzipping the coverall, she stepped out of it and put it in the hamper by the washer dryer combo that sat flush to the kitchen. Charlotte grabbed a beer and headed towards the bathroom, padding along the carpet in her skivvies in the distinctly feminine room.
Floral cushions on the chairs, a small floral loveseat and a lace coverlet set the tone for the small apartment.Downstairs? Manly and businesslike! Upstairs? Womanly!she thought wryly as she flipped on a pink end table lamp giving off a soft glow to the room.
Living up to her self-made promise, Charlotte plunked a bath bomb into the tub with a flourish as the water ran. She proceeded to enjoy some well-deserved peace and quiet and reflect on the day’s events.
2
JACK
He was bored.
Jack had gotten into bull riding competition on a dare. And now, years later, it was his career. There was a tremendous rush in bull riding and it was addicting. The high you felt as you were in the gate? The bull quivering angrily underneath you? Heart beating, blood roaring, the crowd muffled as you focused on the bull’s angry breaths heaving in and out of him. It was an endorphin rush he was addicted to. His mind and body knew that at any moment, the gate would fly open, launching him either into success or pain.
Massive, great, heaping amounts of screaming pain.
There was no in-between.
Either you stayed on the bull or you got thrown. Being thrown hurt, but not near what being trampled did to a body! Jack Seguin definitely preferred staying on the bull and cashing his check. That is what made him good at what he did. This is what made him a career man.
He could read the bull, tell the signs. It was like they were almost circling each other as the great beast tried to fling him off. Teeth-jarring, enraged stomping would sway into viciousturns. What Jack found is that if you became limber, flowing with each jump like a rag doll, you stayed on. Fighting the bull, tensing up or losing focus got you thrown.
That rush was long since gone.
The surge of adrenaline was fading.
Instead of it being the greatest thrill, it felt like work. It hurt. Things that didn’t ache before and had been broken or twisted over the years now ached or protested his every move at times. He felt old, yet he was barely thirty-five.
Bull riding had been lucrative, allowing him to purchase land and build a small house. But it had also taken its toll. Once, he wanted to be in the big city, with the lights and atmosphere. But now, he preferred his bit of property on the outskirts of Ember Creek, Texas. It was small and quaint still even with the larger towns around it like Tyler or Longview.
He had a few more rides in him, but that was simply to pad his nest egg. He wanted to retire without worry in a small, comfortable lifestyle. Jack wanted time for himself, to enjoy a hobby or get to enjoy some peace and quiet. Not sleeping in the next bus to the next town.
