Good Fortune, Bad Luck

Chapter 1

   

Chapter 1

    Mike looked out from under the overhang in the parking lot with a dour look. 

    "Great," he muttered, "rain, again." 

    It seemed it was always raining in this city.  He felt like looking up whatever genius weatherman said the weather would be nice today and giving them a swift kick in the ass.  He turned up the collar of his jacket, and, hunching his shoulders and holding his briefcase over his head, he made a run for it. 

    It didn’t help, and by the time he reached his car, a shitty old dodge with the rear bumper held on with tying wire, he was thoroughly soaked. 

    “C’mon, sweetheart,” he prayed as he turned the key, “start!” 

    With a weary sputter the engine turned and promptly stalled.

    “Son of a bitch!” he shouted as he slammed his fist into the dashboard, “Start, goddamnyou!” 

    The engine turned again and, with a loud backfire, held its own against the dampness. 

    “Thank you!  I knew you could do it all along!” he crooned, stroking the dash.  “Now let’s just get us home, huh?” 

    Nothing ever seemed to go right for Mike D’Allesandro.  An average guy, with average good looks, average height, average weight….”average” seemed to be the word that described him all his life.  From grades in school to job and girlfriend, Mike was the kind of guy who wanted to stand out, tried really hard to, but just never seemed to manage to do so. 

    Mike put the car in gear and carefully backed out of the spot.  Navigating the turns thru the parking lot to the exit, he pulled cautiously out the driveway, and looked left.  A dump truck lumbered past and then the coast looked clear.  Mike began to pull out, then had to slam on the brake when a little red sports car sped past at half the speed of light.  Waving the “Hawaiian hello,” the driver sped off.

    “Where’d you learn to drive, ya moron!” Mike yelled after him.  “What an idiot…” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the rest of the way out of the driveway and turned right onto Main St.. 

    “It’s o.k., sweetheart,” he said, stroking the dashboard again, “the mean man is gone and we’ll be home soon…”   

    He pulled into the driveway to the lot at his apartment complex about 10 minutes later, and, swiping his magnetic keycard on the pad, drove under the gate before it had fully risen.  The sound of tires screeching on the cement as he turned the corner told him the guy at the repair shop lied to him and his tires were still losing air.  Mentally adding another name to the list of people needing a kick in the pants, he drove up two levels to his assigned parking spot.  A quick look down the row told him what he already knew, that Mrs. Donnelly in 45 had company she didn’t want her husband to know about, and he parked in the guest spot 4 rows over.  The same guest spot where her “guest” should have parked, and had been told several times to park, but hadn’t.  His name was already on the list.

    “Baby,” he said, addressing the car once more, “you know you’re the only girl in my life, but we need to do something about you stalling all the time.  Now, I don’t want to do it, but if I have to, I will trade you in for a better model.”

This was his standard threat, and he suspected the car knew he didn’t have the money to follow thru.  Thus the reason she kept breaking down. 

    “Just rest up for tomorrow.  We don’t want a repeat of today’s little incident, o.k.?”  With a last pat on the dashboard, Mike grabbed his briefcase and got out of the car.

Walking thru the several rows of cars to the elevator, Mike spotted the elevator doors opening ahead of him.  He pulled out his cellphone and flipped it open.  Activating the camera function, he held it up, and waited.  Mrs. Donnelly had her hands on her “guest’s” belt, pulling him up against her, and was stretching up on tip-toes to kiss him.  Mike hit the button, and, at the clicking sound the phone made when the photo was captured, she spun with a “deer in the headlights” look.  Ignoring her, Mike addressed the asshole who kept taking his parking spot.

    “The next time I find your car –“ Mike turned and snapped a photo of the car, and license plate, “- parked in my spot, I’m gonna sit down and have a nice chat with Mr. Donnelly.  Do I make myself clear?”  Mike bared his teeth in what he thought might look like a smile.

    “Look, Mike, let’s not do anything hasty here….” Mrs. Donnelly started to say, when Mike cut her off.

    “I don’t want to hear it.  I’ve asked you nicely, I’ve asked you not so nicely, and now I’m telling you.  Do not park in my spot.”  He walked past them, stepped into the elevator, turned and hit the button for the 4th floor.  “I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

    The doors closed, and Mike took in a deep breath.  Holding it for a minute, he tried to imagine a sunny place, a calming place, where assholes like that didn’t take other people’s parking spots or cut people off in traffic.  The elevator doors opened again, and Mike stepped out into the hallway outside his apartment.