Chapter 4
Good Luck Charm
MITCHELL
Islumped down in front of the ancient electric typewriter in my pool house, where I’d set up shop the first week I was here. I brought the beer sweating in my hand to my lips. But I didn’t drink.
A tingling washed over the back of my neck.
I’d been stuck on this scene for a week.
A hundred false starts spilled out of the trash bin in the corner.
I’d had lots of days like this over the past six months.
But this was the worst block yet. I needed to write a woman who turned up in my main character’s life who would give him hope for the future.
Who’d show him he already knew the way. I hadn’t been able to get a grasp on her at all.
But now, for the first time, a picture of her formed in my mind.
She’d have blonde hair. A mouth I wasn’t sure how she could kiss her mother with. A fire in her eyes and a pulse in her jaw where she bit back what she really thought.
I set the beer down on the desk, where it nearly toppled. I barely noticed. Instead, I shoved a new piece of paper in the machine. Then I began tapping on the keys.
To my astonishment, the words came. They gushed, like water from a broken pipe, until before I knew it, I’d filled three pages with text.
I’d purposefully stayed away while she was leaving.
But now, pausing in this obscene burst of words, I pulled out my phone and tapped on my monitoring app, sliding it back by an hour.
There, on screen, Winona walked briskly to the front door.
She paused, looking over her shoulder. I could sense the way she was still angry from the set in her shoulders.
God, those shoulders. Muscular but soft and curved at the same time. Strong but vulnerable.
I tapped to pause the video, zooming in on her face. It blurred up this close, but I could still see the fire in her eyes. The sharp point of that chin. I grazed my thumb over her image.
Then tapped to start playing again.
When she left, she slammed the door behind her. Or tried to. The soft hinges wouldn’t let her, and I actually felt my lips curling up in a smile, imagining how that would probably piss her off even more.
Winona.
I set the phone down, taking a long swig of the now-warm beer. Then I gathered the sheets of paper, leaning back and re-reading what I’d written.
Unlike everything else I’d spat out in the past several weeks, I was astonished to discover they were actually… good. Or at least, not horrifically awful. Outside, a Goldfinch trilled.
I looked up. Across the pool, the yellow bird hopped across the deck. Beyond, I could see into the house. I stared as if Winona was still there. Furious. Spitting curses at me.
Fuck me. That little firecracker was a good luck charm.