“Uh… yeah, sure. One sec,” the clerk finally agrees. He opens the flaps on a few boxes behind the counter.
“They probably don’t have any more,” Hazel says.
“Let’s just see,” I say.
“Ah-ha! You’re in luck. Didn’t realize this was back here,” the clerk says, placing the box next to the other items. He nods at my wrist. “Cool bracelet.”
Peeking out from under my long sleeve is my red, woven bracelet. “Oh yeah, thanks. It’s by a string artist from the city. She had an installation in Times Square. Once it was over, they reused the material for these.” I glance at hisIndiana JonesT-shirt with a vintage-looking airplane flying through the clouds on it. “Nice shirt.”
“Harrison Ford’s the greatest,” he says.
“Did you know he was a carpenter before hitting it big?” I ask, setting Toffee on the ground to grab my wallet. I tap my credit card on the card reader.
“Oh yeah? He came in here once. Great guy,” the clerk says as he moves the last item into a paper bag, clearing off the counter. The bright blue of the New York Lottery mat draws my focus.
“What’s the Powerball at?” I ask.
“Thirty million,” the clerk says.
I grab a play slip from a holder on the wall, along with a pen.
The clerk hands me the bag. “Quick Pick?”
“I’ll pick my own.” To Hazel, I say, “I’ll split whatever I win with you.”
Hazel’s head snaps up in my direction. “Do you do this a lot?” she asks.
“Pay for goods? Most of the time, yeah,” I joke.
“No. Play games you know you’ll lose,” she says, crossing her arms. “Join random peoples’ fortune readings. Offer half your lottery winnings to someone you don’t know. Which you don’t need to do. Obviously.”
Hazel follows me and Toffee outside to an empty bench. Next to us, the bodega’s flower stand is lit up, showcasing colorful roses, baby’s breath, and mums wrapped in cellophane.
“Do you like any of those?” I ask.
Hazel glances over her shoulder. “They don’t last long enough to enjoy them.” She looks back at me. “Please don’t get me any. You already got me enough.”
“You sure? Those lilies look nice.”
“They do, but I don’t have water to put them in,” she says. “Pipe broke.”
“That’s rough, sorry.” I lift Toffee onto the bench and sit next to him. I pat the space beside me, but Hazel doesn’t join us.
Instead, she asks, “Hey, what did the fortune teller say to you?”
“She said a lot of things. If I remember correctly, you were there, too.”
“Nothing gets you disassociating faster than three bad fortunes,” she says. I can tell that she’s trying to make this sound lighthearted.
I pat the bench again. “You can trust me to help you with this,” I try to reassure her.
She frowns, staying where she is. “You don’t need to do that. I can take it from here.”
“In my line of work, there are a lot of cuts. I’m pretty good at cleaning them up.”
“Where is it you work that you get a lot of cuts?” she asks.
“I’m a carpenter. Well, now I work in a theater.”
