“Nah, you’re wrong, man,” Hunter said, looking over at a four-way and gesturing toward all options until I pointed left. “Serendipity means good luck, and I don’t believe you just wait around for it, I think it comes to those who seek it.” He shrugged and amended with a twitch of his lips, “in this case, stalk it.”
He glanced over at me still clutching the seat; it was my nerves more than his driving—though only just in that order. “Where to now?”
“Just up here to the right. 512.”
Hunter made a U-turn and squeezed into a tight parking spot opposite the house. He rubbed his hands together. “Right, let the luck begin.”
The way he’d parked, I was in full view of Mitch’s house and the lamppost under which... my ribs hurt just thinking about it. I sat on my shaking hands. Hunter didn’t know all the details of that night; he was only here for the cute guy I’d delivered home. I focused on Hunter instead of the scenery outside my open window. “What’s the plan now? Are you going to knock on his front door?”
“Hell no! That’d be a bit creepy. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea about me.”
I pointedly looked around the van and inclined my headtoward Mitch’s apartment across the road. “So what’s therightidea about you?”
He laughed and whacked me over the back of the head. “Hey, there’s snacks and warm Coke in the glove box. Help yourself.”
“Seriously, what is your brilliant, serendipitous plan?”
“Saythatfive times in a row.” Hunter twisted toward me and the view of 512. “The plan is whenever Mitch shows up, I get out of the car and go over to him. All going well, he’ll land right in my lap and we’ll wheel off into the friggin’ sunset.”
It didn’t sound like the slyest plan, and there was the whole matter of how quickly he’d be able to move once Mitch did show up—but whatever gave Hunter his luck.
“What’s the part of the plan that involves me?” I asked, pulling off my glasses and cleaning them with my shirt. It kept the surroundings comfortably blurry for a few moments.
“You’re the entertainment. Who knows how long we’re going to be here?”
“I barely got three lines of work in last night,” I said, thinking about how I’d fallen asleep with the laptop on and woken up to a string of aaaaaaaa’s where a Roaring Twenties party-description should have been.
I slipped my glasses back on and rested my head back against the headrest. Staring at the ceiling, I planned out my column. I really should be spending the day working on that and my English Lit readings instead of lollygagging here, where I’d been attacked—
And saved!
It was the saving part that had me glancing out of the window again. The grass, the air, the silhouette of a hooded figure had all bled into shades of blue.
This week I’d go back to theScribearchives to see if I could find more on the mysterious hood. Maybe I’d overlooked something important.
I peeked at Hunter, who sat gripping the wheel, hunchedforward to get the best view of the old Victorian apartment and anyone coming or going out of it.
I grabbed a Coke from the glove box and cracked it open. It sprayed over my face and the sticky liquid trickled down my neck.
Hunter snorted. “Good one. You’re a funny guy, Liam.”
I put the Coke between my legs to wipe my glasses a second time. “Funny? I like it.”
He laughed harder and gestured for the Coke. I passed it to him, and he took a large gulp.
“Give me my camera,” Hunter said, and rested the Coke can in the drink holder. “It’s behind my seat.”
I reached over and brought out the professional-looking monster. Hunter unzipped the bag and drew out the camera.
“Okay, now this feels like a stalk out,” I said, shrinking lower in my seat.
“Stake out?” he said, clicking through pictures on the digital screen.
“No, definitelystalkout. This is feeling more and more illegal by the minute.”
He passed me the camera. “Take a look. I think it’s a good shot.”
I stared at my face on the screen, taken at the party where we’d first met. Hunter truly was gifted, this was... a great shot. “I look good.”
