Page 11 of Lady Luck

I slowed my approach as Henry, the one who seemed closest to my age and who I'd actually spoken to before, rolled his eyes and turned an apologetic look in my direction. “Roy doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, so I wouldn’t waste any brainpower on deciphering what comes out of his mouth.”

I raised the corners of my lips in acknowledgement and nodded toward the group. “Mornin’.”

A chorus of grunts sounded in reply before Henry spoke up again. “We were just discussing the season. Wondering how many times we’re going to have to haul our boats inland before the year is out.”

I cast my gaze over the marina. “You all own boats out here?”

More grunts that somehow sounded like affirmations reverberated throughout the group, and Henry gestured to one of the older-looking boats that was currently moored. “That one is mine, but she’s been giving me trouble. I’ve been needing to take her inland for repairs. Just haven’t found the time.”

I nodded before narrowing my eyes on the boat in question. “Well, I’m around just about every morning. Let me know if I can help. I know at least one of the regulars at Ari’s is a boat mechanic.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “No shit? That biscuit place in Bay Springs?”

I nodded. “Yep. My parents are the new owners.”

There were even more grunts, this time in a group facsimile of approval of Ari’s menu before conversation came to a halt.

Just how I liked it.

Which likely meant I’d have to go further than these docks to complete my mission.

Luckily, my brother was already deep into that particular quest to seek adventure.

I just hadn’t realized how far I’d be pulled into it.

4

BREE

Islammed the trailer door shut with a supremely unsatisfying thud and locked the door behind me. Grasping the doorknob, I gave it a half-hearted jiggle to confirm that it was locked, jumped off the makeshift step—a plastic crate I’d found behind Fortuna—and carefully picked my way through the yard and to the sidewalk.

Early fall on the Coast was still warm and muggy, but today felt relatively bearable compared to the last several weeks of oppressive late-summer heat, so I decided to walk to the casino instead of waiting for the next shuttle.

Judging by the lack of light inside Grandmother’s house—which we referred to as “the Big House”—she was already long gone.

I didn’t really know what she intended to teach me by moving me into a partially refurbished trailer on the back of her property, but if it was that I liked living somewhere that wasn’t decorated with rooster statues, empty pantyhose canisters, and the lingering scent of perpetual disappointment, then she could consider that lesson learned.

My optimistic take on my living situation was thanks to the mental gymnastics I performed daily to ignore the trailer’s… quirks. Instead, I forced my mind toward the positives.

Like the fact that I now had space to breathe. To think. Recover.

Space I hadn’t realized I’d needed until I had it.

If I let my gaze wander past the kitchenette’s floor, I could focus on what hung on the trailer’s tiny fridge—a photo of a very young me with both of my parents. It was something that would’ve never been allowed in Grandmother’s home and was the only photo of my dad that I’d kept. It took a lot of compartmentalizing to look at it with anything but hurt, but I usually succeeded.

After the first week in the trailer went by without a visit from Grandmother, I stopped worrying that she would show up unannounced like she used to in my old bedroom. As a result, I now spent most of my downtime enjoying TV shows, music, and audiobooks at any volume, without headphones—and usually sans pants.

Bliss.

I wondered if this was how teens felt when they went off to college for the first time. There was something almost intoxicating about no one knowing exactly where I was or what I was doing. It was almost like being off grid… thought the girl walking to work her long-time jobs at one of the most heavily surveilled establishments in Mississippi.

Fortuna had nearly replenished its staffing gaps from losing the college-aged workers who went back to school and the employees who’d moved or taken jobs at other resorts on the Coast for a change of pace. Despite the fewer openings, I still held on to a kernel of hope that management would need to tag me in—ideally for one of the faster-paced jobs, like serving at the steakhouse or bussing tables at the buffet.

It was a silly notion. I knew exactly what would happen when I walked into that lobby, but instead of facing it head-on, I was letting myself pretend that I was falling into my comeback by merely being at the right place at the right time. It seemed that even when I set out to do something brave, I did it in a cowardly way.

Did it count as facing your fears if your eyes remained closed?

It wasn’t like I hadn’t performed recently. After several months of complete avoidance, I’d slowly dipped my toe back into my role with a few small appearances and low-key performances over the last few weeks.

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