Chapter One The Velvet Fortune Cookie #2
Cara picks up the condom. “No action on prom night. Sad.” She opens the hair wax. “Oooh, that smells nice.” She holds the tin in front of my nose. It smells clean and a little spicy.
“Preparedness and safe sex are so romantic. As is good grooming.” I pick up the slip of paper. It’s a fortune from a fortune cookie. “Oh my god, it’s a sign,” I say after reading it. “Manifesting worked! I didn’t even have to burn leaves!”
“What’s it say?” Cara asks.
“Love is closer than you think. Its power is going to change you more than you expect.” I beam at Cara.
Someone laughs behind me. “Of course Love is close. This is Love Street .” It’s Jenn, our boss, and the owner of Cosmic Vintage. She’s been doing paperwork in the little office behind the counter all night and has clearly been listening to our conversation.
I’ve known Jenn my whole life since she and my mom are old friends from high school. Jenn’s the one who told Mom about the flower shop for sale after my parents’ divorce. She hired me at Cosmic two years ago, saying since I spend so much time in her shop, she may as well pay me.
I wave the tiny white slip of paper in the air, practically dancing in place. “This means that I will find love… and right here! Closer than I think!”
Cara takes an exaggerated step away from me. “Don’t look at me.”
I laugh. Cara is a lesbian, and I’m pansexual, but not once have I thought Cara could be my one true love. She has a definite type— athletes . I’m convinced that’s why she wants to be a physical therapist. My idea of physical exertion is changing the record on Jenn’s old player.
Speaking of, I go to the stereo and flip over the Cure album that’s playing. “C’mon, Cara. This is fate, right? I literally found a fortune about finding love while I was talking about wanting to find love.”
“Fortunes are supposed to come out of cookies, not velvet sport coats,” Jenn says, finally coming out of her office.
She’s dressed how she always dresses—in tight black jeans and a band shirt from the nineties.
She runs her hand over the soft velvet of the jacket on the counter. “This is a nice one, though.”
Cara shakes her head. “Fortunes aren’t supposed to come in jackets or cookies. You’re as gullible as my grandmother. She gets ripped off by the same fortune-teller every year since she moved here from China. That woman couldn’t predict what month will come next.”
Cara may not believe in omens, but I do. I slip the fortune into the pocket of my skirt. It’s a sign. I’m going to be as happy as Priya very soon.
Jenn’s gaze sweeps across the empty store. “Did any customers come in since I started payroll?”
I shake my head.
“Ugh.” Jenn cringes. “Sales are down again this week. We’ve taken a big hit since that boutique on Gerrard opened.”
Love Street isn’t very big, and only a short stretch of it has stores, all with apartments over them.
After the shops, there’s a small park, then houses until the street ends.
Cosmic Vintage is the biggest shop on the street—and probably the most popular.
People come from all over the city specifically for Jenn’s curated vintage collection.
Along with Cosmic, there are a couple of small restaurants, an adorable new café, a dog groomer, a European grocer, an empanada shop, a bakery, a used bookstore, and, of course, Mom’s flower shop.
Love Street is off Gerrard Street East, which has been gentrifying a lot in the last few years.
It kind of sucks for the neighborhood. Toronto’s original Little India is on Gerrard, and a lot of those old Indian businesses are being pushed out.
Thankfully, Love Street isn’t really changing.
It’s got its own personality—different from any other place in the city.
“It’s felt kind of slow all week,” Cara says.
“It’s been slow on the whole street.” Jenn pulls her dark blond hair into a ponytail.
“I was going to start interviewing for a new part-timer this week, but now I don’t think I even need someone.
You two are coming to the BOA meeting on Saturday, right?
We’re going to brainstorm ideas to increase traffic to the street.
” The LSBOA—the Love Street Business Owner’s Association—meets once a month, and Jenn is the president.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” I say. The monthly meetings are in my favorite café, LoveBug, and I like seeing everyone from the street all together.
Cara nods, then wheels the now-empty rolling rack out of the way. “I can come too. What do you think the BOA can do?”
Jenn shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe organize some new flyers or advertise or something. Anyway, let’s not worry about it now. Hey, maybe we can bring those seventies dresses to the front? Post them on Insta, and people will think we have new stuff.”
“Yes!” I love merchandising. Cara changes the record to an ABBA one to get in the seventies mood, and we spend the rest of our shift redoing the mannequins and front stock with a disco glam vibe.
Like always, I let my mind wander while working, daydreaming about a meet-cute happening for me right here on Love Street. It will happen. I don’t even care that much about finding a prom date—but I am going to find love. I have proof , I think, running my finger over the fortune in my pocket.
After work, I dig through my jewelry and find a big silver filigreed heart locket that I bought from Cosmic last year. I fold the fortune and press it inside the locket. Cara might be skeptical of signs and fortunes, but I’m determined. This fortune is going to come true.