Page 104 of My Lucky Charm

Scarlett looks up at me. “Chicago style?”

I lean down. “It’s where you mix the cheese popcorn and the caramel popcorn in the same bag. It’s soo good.”

I recite my spiel from memory—Did you know that a building in the River North district has its own zip code? and The Wrigley Building’s design was based off of the cathedral in Seville, Spain! and The Monadnock building, the tallest masonry brick structure ever constructed, actually sits on a concrete raft foundation, right on Chicago’s marshy soil!—as we walk around the city. Scarlett matches my enthusiasm for the history, and giggles at the personal stories I add to draw them in.

But Gray hardly seems to pay attention at all. In fact, Gray seems bothered, and I start to worry that I’m the one bothering him.

A little after noon, we make our way to a local restaurant, more like a diner, that’s tucked away in the Southport Corridor of the city. We walk inside and put our name in, then step off to the side and sit down, waiting to be seated.

I see a group of teenage boys recognize Gray, and it’s obvious they want to come take a photo with him. They’re talking in hushed whispers, pointing, pushing one another closer, but they, like most people, are probably too scared to make the final move. I don’t blame them, what with the scowl on Gray’s face right now.

What is bugging him?

I smile at the boys, and one of them stands. It’s clear by the look on his face—and by the others smacking him to go on—that he’s mustering every ounce of courage he can find to walk over here. I glance at Gray, who is oblivious to this, wishing there was time to explain what’s about to happen and beg him to be nice.

“Uh, excuse me, uh, Mr. Hawke?” the kid says as he reaches us. Only now do I notice he’s wearing a Comets’ beanie. “Could we get a picture with you?”

It’s not audible, but I can practically hear Gray growl. He clears his throat and glances at Scarlett, and the kid takes a step back.

“Oh gosh. Sorry,” the kid says. “I’m so sorry, I just realized you’re out with your family. I’m just a huge fan, and—”

“Hey, it’s totally fine!” I say, jumping up, trying not to dwell on the fact that this kid lumped me in as part of Gray’s family. “I can take it for you!”

Gray shoots me a look and I flash him a hard smile, hoping it communicates Be nice to your fans!

Scarlett scoots away as the kid steps next to Gray, holding up a “number one” with his index finger.

After I snap a few shots, none of which Gray smiles for, the kid takes his phone back. “Thanks so much. My dad is going to freak out.”

“This will be great for your social media,” I say after the kid leaves. “That kid will go crazy if he sees you shared the photo.”

Gray sits back down. “I don’t have social media.”

“Yes, you do,” I say. “I started an Instagram account for you. You already have 800 thousand followers, which is kind of nuts.”

“Why did you do that?” he snaps.

I try to diffuse. “Oh, Beverly said it’s part of the job.”

“Take it down,” he says briskly.

I can’t read him. I mean, I can—he’s being a total jerk—but I can’t figure out why.

I change my position, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s great for your image. Helps you build super fans. Lets them see a little bit of your real life.”

“I don’t want them to see my real life,” he says, loud enough for the people standing around us to glance our way. “It’s none of their business.”

I look at the other people, smile, and then lean back to Gray. “Hey. Trust me. I promise I’m being very strategic about what I post.” I pull my phone out, preparing to show him the account.

“Like you were strategic about sending out the photos to your entire email list?” he says.

I freeze. My face must register my hurt, because my cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and Gray starts to say something, then looks away. I click my phone off and slide it into my bag.

I speak in measured tones. “Um, yeah. Okay. I’m just . . . I’m just going to run to the bathroom. Since we’re just waiting.” I stand.

“Eloise, I—”

I leave him mid-sentence. I don’t stick around to hear what he’s going to say.

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