Second Hearts (The Wishes Series) (3 page)

Mitchell’s attraction to Zoe was much easier to define. She was part Beautiful, just like his sisters. She was prissy, although her penchant for tiny bikinis and matching sarongs bordered on trashy. But Zoe would never graduate to full Beautiful status. She was far too smart and too kind-hearted, even if scrubbing dirt off vegetables was beneath her.

“Can we sit for a while? It’s hot,” she complained.

I looked around, trying to see somewhere suitable to dump her for a few minutes while I finished browsing.

“There,” suggested Rose, pointing to a small shed over the road. The makeshift café only traded on market days. Patrons sat outside on dirty plastic chairs, drinking lukewarm cans of Coke.

“Will you be okay here for a minute?” I asked hopefully. “I just want to check out the stalls over there.” I pointed further down the street, but she paid no attention.

“We’ll wait here for you,” promised Rose.

I had walked only a few metres before the crowd swamped me. I couldn’t even see the café when I turned around. All I could do was keep pace with the flow of traffic. Some days I hate being short. I walked for a few minutes, seeing nothing but people’s backs before finally breaking off to the side. I had no idea where I was. I didn’t seem to be in the markets anymore. The buildings were permanent structures but still ramshackle and dilapidated.

To my left was a fabric store, overflowing with bolts of brightly coloured cloth. A heavyset African woman stood in the doorway calling me inside with a flick of her head. “Come and see, little girl,” she coaxed.

“No, thank you.”

I began walking again but got no further than the shop next door. A man tugged my backpack as I passed his doorway, yanking me inside. “Little girl,” he purred. “Come inside.”

It was hardly an invitation. I was already inside. The relative safety of the road might have been miles away.

To regain control, I turned around, pretending to browse. Crooked wooden shelves lined the corrugated tin walls, displaying dodgy-looking electrical items and bric-a-brac. The man followed closely behind me as I walked; but he wasn’t the scariest one in the shop. Another two men sat near the back wall, leering at me.

Playing it cool was not an option. I was terrified. No one knew where I was.
I
didn’t even know where I was.

“You have a nice shop,” I complimented shakily.

He looked past me to the other men, speaking in a language I didn’t understand. Unnervingly, they all laughed.

I didn’t dare look at the thugs behind me. All my attention was on the one blocking my exit.

“Find what you like,” he instructed. “We buy and we sell.”

I nodded, unable to swallow the lump in my throat so I could speak.

They weren’t typical villagers. Their clothes were western style. The ringleader wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt – totally inappropriate, considering the hot weather. Around his neck was the thickest gold chain I’d ever seen. The necklace looked authentic, but the huge kitschy gold Rolex he wore looked like a prize out of a gumball machine.

“We have phones. Do you need a phone?” he asked.

His question reminded me that my phone was in my bag – albeit useless. Who was I going to call? Mitchell’s phone had been stolen during the mugging. I could call Alex. If he hurried, he could catch the next flight out and come to my rescue in about three days.

Quickly, I hatched a plan. Mitchell needed a phone. I’d buy one, thank the scary men, and hopefully be on my way in one piece.

“I will buy a phone,” I told him, trying to sound strong.

Rolex man clicked his fingers twice. “Get the box,” he ordered. I heard the goons behind me shuffle to their feet.

Please don’t let it be a Charli size box
, I prayed.

I contemplated making a run for the bright light of the outside street but wasn’t sure I’d make it out before he grabbed me again. When he called me over to the counter, I went.

The smaller of the henchmen upended a cardboard box on the counter sending at least fifty phones tumbling in all directions.

“I’ll give you a good price,” he assured. “Choose one.”

They all looked the same to me – with one exception. Mitchell’s phone had a distinctive bright orange cover, just like one of the phones in front of me.

I picked it up, moving quickly to hide the fact that my hand was shaking.

“I like this one.”

“A very good choice,” praised Rolex man. “It’s only just come in.”

I was certain it was Mitchell’s phone. My potential murderers were also thieves. Fear quickly gave way to anger. Standing in front of me were the men who’d knocked the stuffing out of Mitchell and left him bleeding in an alley. Convinced that my fate would soon be the same (or worse) I realised I had nothing to lose. “I have something to sell,” I announced, shrugging my off my backpack.

The men watched silently as I took out my camera and unscrewed the lens. If there was a chance I might live to continue my trip, I didn’t want to do it without my beloved camera. Parting with one lens was bearable.

Rolex man studied it closely. “This is no good without the camera. I will take both.”

I shook my head. “No. Just the lens.”

“No.” He handed it back to me.

I actually felt deflated. For a second, I’d been hopeful of solving all of our money problems. I saw no point in haggling with him. He was calling the shots and I’d just revealed all my cards. The thieving would-be murderers now knew I had a valuable camera in my possession.

“What else do you have?”

I tried to think quickly but came up blank.

“The stone,” he said, pointing to my necklace.

I brought my hand to my throat, clutching my black opal pendant.

“No.” My rough tone made them laugh.

“Black opal is rare and valuable,” said Rolex man, amazing me with his knowledge of gemmology. “Give it to me.”

I wanted to put up a good fight. He was probably about to rip it off my neck at any second anyway. “I want five thousand for it. U.S. dollars,” I declared.

A huge grin swept his face and I could hear the other men snickering. “You are a very funny girl.” Funny was good. Funny meant they might not kill me.

“Five thousand,” I repeated.

Rolex man paced around, rubbing his chin while he deliberated. “I will give you three thousand.”

It was actually a pretty fair offer – much less than what it was worth but not altogether unreasonable. I had to consider it. Three thousand dollars was a ticket to New York and back again if I needed it. I tried to focus more on the bigger picture and less on the heartbreak of parting with the opal Adam had gifted me.

“Fine. Three thousand… and the orange phone,” I agreed. “And I want U.S. dollars.”

“I do not keep that amount of money here. There are many thieves around.” I almost laughed out loud but thought better of it. “I will have to go and get it.”

“I’ll wait.” I truly was an idiot.

More than an hour and a half passed before Rolex man returned. I had no choice but to wait for him. I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t free to leave. He strolled in as if he’d been gone only minutes and dropped a tattered manila envelope down on the counter in front of me. “Count it,” he instructed.

I thumbed through the notes, counting silently in my head. I was glad I counted silently. Unbelievably, there was an extra four hundred dollars in the pile.

“Three thousand dollars, right?” I asked, confused.

“That is what we agreed.”

I quickly tucked the envelope under my arm, hoping that the smugness wasn’t evident in my expression. With a heavy heart, I undid the clasp on my necklace and handed it to Rolex man.

“Come back any time,” he said, focusing all his attention on the necklace in his hand.

I didn’t bother answering. I turned and walked as fast as I could, straight out into the safety of the crowded street. It had been almost two hours since I’d left Rose and Zoe at the café. Knowing they’d be long gone, I began walking home, oblivious to how frantic Mitchell would be.

“Where the hell have you been?” he yelled, running down the beach toward me. “The girls said they lost you. I’ve been looking everywhere.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, bracing myself as he threw his arms around me. It wasn’t a tight hug, just badly executed. Perhaps he forgot that he was a foot taller than me and that’s why he hugged my head.

He looked me up and down, inspecting for damage.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.

“Where have you been?”

I was excited to tell him. Doing business with gangsters wasn’t an every day event for me. Mitchell didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm, but to his credit, he let me finish the tale before berating me. “You sold your necklace to thugs? Are you out of your freaking mind?”

“You’re the one who told me to get brave.”

He wrinkled his nose at the reminder of his drunken remark. “You weren’t meant to take it so literally! What if something had happened to you? Imagine that phone call to Alex.” He groaned in absolute disgust.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m done. Don’t talk to me.” he quickened his pace, knowing there was no way I could keep up with his long strides.

Mitchell didn’t go home. He trudged through the sand to Zoe and Rose’s hut, disappearing through the front door as soon as it opened. I didn’t really care. I was still flying high, exhilarated by my rare rush of courage. The feeling remained long after I arrived home. I sat on the floor, counting out the hundred dollar bills and stacking them in a neat pile, elated to confirm there was indeed an extra four hundred dollars in my bounty.

I, Charli Blake, had successfully crossed into the big leagues. I’d ripped off my very first gangsters.

The money was safely tucked away under the loose floorboard when Mitchell arrived home. He thumped down beside me on the beanbag, throwing me aside like a rag doll. I waited for him to speak first, unsure if he was still angry.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You deserved it but I’m sorry. I’m not your keeper. It’s not my job to look after you.” His speech was obviously well rehearsed. He spoke slowly and precisely.

“But you do look after me. I would never have made it this far without you. Today turned out to be good for me. It’s my turn to look after you.”

Mitchell tilted his head, staring at me like I was crazy. “How do you figure that?”

I reached in to my bra, retrieved his orange phone and held it out to him.

“I think this belongs to you.”

He snatched it from me, shaking his head in disbelief. The colour literally drained from his face. He realised what I already knew. I’d spent the afternoon in the company of the men who put six stitches in his forehead.

“Did you see what they did to me to get this phone?” he asked, gritting his teeth. “If they’d cut you up in to tiny little pieces and chucked you in a dumpster, you would have deserved it. And you think today was a good day for you?”

Seeing Mitchell angry was completely foreign territory. I had no idea how to handle him. “The end justified the means, Mitch. I’ve got enough money to go to New York now.”

He wasn’t the least bit impressed by my sketchy reasoning. “You’re never going to see sense, are you? I can’t let you go off on your own, Charli. It’s not going to end well.”

“You can’t stop me.” I regretted the childish comment instantly. I’d just made him more furious.

Mitchell quickly stood. “I don’t want to stop you. It’s not up to me to stop you. You get yourself in to the worst scrapes purely because you don’t think.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “How much thought have you put in to your trip to New York?”

“Enough,” I uttered.

“Great. So you’ve contacted Adam to tell him you’re on your way.”

“No,” I admitted. But where was the romance in that?

Mitchell leaned down close. “You know why you haven’t called him, Charli?” He didn’t pause long enough to let me answer. “Because you’re winging it, just like you always do. Leaving things up to the universe isn’t always going to work in your favour.”

I didn’t feel as though there was an alternative. If I put any real thought into it, I’d talk myself out of going. I desperately wanted Adam back in my life. I craved the happy ending I’d been dreaming of for over a year. But in the back of my mind was one constant thought: he might not want me any more. No amount of planning would prepare me for that. I had no choice but to throw it out to the universe. Whatever would be would be.

It was that philosophy that got me through my encounter with Rolex man and his henchmen. Explaining to Mitchell was impossible. I saw no point even trying. “I think we should agree to disagree.”

“Fine, crazy weirdo.”

I’d heard him call his sisters a mountain of names far worse than that. Crazy weirdo I could live with.

3. Lessons

New York in November was not a place I wanted to be without winter clothing. There wasn’t much call for winter coats in Kaimte – or anywhere else we’d been in the past year. One phone call to Gabrielle solved that problem, and another one I hadn’t even considered.