Fortune

Luck isn't binary, not only bad, nor wholly good; its spectrum is broad. What looks like bad luck to many, can often hold a silver lining for some, and today it is about to turn for jersey number 11. Life as they knew it altered spectacularly at 12 minutes past 3 on a sunny Tuesday. In a dazzling ferocious white heat, which obliterated the gaping faces of teammates, competitors and crowd alike. Screams of people and sirens mixed, giving way to the deep numb quiet of darkness.

Time passed; but it was impossible to grasp how long or short. Ash stirred to the cold hum of machines. Ash's mind swam for meaning, picturing first a small bird, then fearing an alarm-

I'm going to be late for practice...

Finally recognising the staccato pip of a heart monitor nearby. Their eyes barely open, lazily followed the white wave, passively tracing the rhythm of their heart across a black screen.

The sterile cold white of the ward bloomed into Ash's fragile consciousness, they squinted against the hostile blaze, pine scent as sharp as the pain now needling the fringes of their senses. They struggled to sit up, cotton mouthed unable to even whisper. As fogged as their mind was the realisation that this hospital treatment came with a painful price tag struck like a blow to an anvil. No family. No support net. No savings. Not the for the first time, Ash felt keenly, that leaden feeling of having no one to call for help, or if they did, knowing no help would come. Their future hinged on their ability to perform on the basketball court. Whatever had happened, however they had ended up here, they needed to get up and out as swiftly as possible.

Ash hadn't noticed the shadow at first. Wire thin, unmoving, mistaken in the haze of peripheral vision as part of the furniture. A woman in black, sat, with catlike stillness nearby, Ash thought she might be a hallucination but as they stirred, her piercing eyes fixed on Ash. She slipped a small business card from her purse into Ash's limp hand.

"Lightning strikes are very common, Mx Lightfoot," she said. "However, lightning strikes on cloudless days, inside gymnasiums, are certainly not. My firm deal with uncommon quirks of fate such as this and we-"

Ash was able to utter a groan of contempt. There was no way, that suing their school was going to do any good.

It took quite a while for Penelope to be able to convince Ash to listen, she was not a lawyer, though she was part of a sort of firm, more like a family, and there was an interesting opportunity that Ash may wish to consider. Ash didn't have to take it, but Penelope was certain they would.

Ash was silently resigned to tearing the card into confetti, as soon as Penelope left the room, but just before she left, she said;

"I'm sure you may wish to turn our business card into confetti as soon as I leave, though to alleviate your anxiety about medical bills, rest assured that they are entirely covered by the business, and when you would like to join us, we look forward to hearing from you."

Then pausing again. "Do you enjoy blueberries or maple syrup on your pancakes?"

"B-blue-?"

"Very good." Penelope said curtly, talking over her shoulder as she left. "I'm certainly I'll see you soon. Thursday is fine."

The recovery took more than a month, not aided by falling down two flights of stairs a week before leaving hospital. Regardless of Ash trying to prepare, they were now woefully late to the interview. Their taxi driver cursed slapping his phone as if this would make it find the address quicker, Ash thanked him, paid and stepped out of the cab at the corner, admitting defeat. A shining silver sign caught Ash's eye, outside a small office complex, "Witt & Quirk" was embossed in elegant letters matching the card perfectly. Ash hesitated for a moment on the steps outside. This was their last hope. The weight of that hung heavy. Their retail job had let them go the first week they were in the hospital. They had car insurance to pay in ten days, maybe if they could wing it, they might have a slim chance of making a few bucks. Ash traced the ragged ghosts on the back of their hand, that the touch of lightning had tattooed across their skin. They had survived, just about. However, they had missed so many games now, that the closest Ash got to participating was cheering from the bleachers, game after game, failing health assessments, every missed shot, that business card burnt a hole in their imagination. There was of course the small matter of trying to throw the card into the trash shortly after returning from hospital, only to find it placed neatly back in their wallet in the morning - they couldn't put it down to a housemates playful prank as they were currently sleeping in their car. If it hadn't been for the card and the paid medical bills, Ash would have passed off Penelope as nothing more than a colourful morphine induced phantom, but standing outside their offices suddenly made it all very real. What job even was this interview really for?

The guard behind the desk pointed up the flight of stairs. Ash followed the sweet scent of pancakes up to a small bustling office of a dozen people focused on various projects, seemed to be midway through brunch, pancakes graced plates at all the desks. One guy was lazily throwing darts at a board without looking, he hit the bull's-eye three times in a row, his killer heels clicking across the wooden floor as he retrieved his darts, again effortlessly hitting the bull's-eye, this time whilst slinging one dart off the ceiling fan with a ping.

"This is Ash Lightfoot, they, them pronouns, please." Penelope said appearing carrying a plate of blueberry pancakes.

"Break a leg!" One woman gave a cheeky wink, twirling her ginger moustache before disappearing behind her monitor.

Penelope steered Ash to an empty desk, Ash took a seat.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, my phone died, my car wouldn't start, then the taxi driver got totally lost." Their palms were slick as they reached for their CV. They really needed to impress, they needed the cash, whatever the job was, anything was surely better than nothing. "I brought a copy of my CV, if you need-"

Penelope tossed it into the trash, pushing the plate of pancakes across the desk. "Please, I'm sure you must be famished, I'm certain you skipped breakfast."

"Er, thanks?" Ash paused before tucking in. "Did you seriously remember my favourite panca-"

"No. I planted the idea in your mind as a confidence trick to gain your interest, so that I could lead you to taking a particular job."

Ash blinked. Their details, the accident, their name, gender identity had all been printed in the newspaper, that was nothing special but it was these little things that were unnerving.

"How did you-"

"How I knew you were coming here today? It's Thursday, I told you Thursday, it's my job to know things. Now I need to start your induction. You've got the job."

"I...have?"

"Your first task will earn you $20,000 when completed, we want to start you off small, so-"

Ash spluttered pancake. "TWENTY THOUS-"

"If you're used to working for a higher fee we will happily -"

"No, no, that's great. Though could I get an advance?"

"An advance, certainly, this will require a short assessment of your talent, follow me." Penelope took Ash over to the man, who was now throwing darts cavalierly over his shoulder.

"Nick, meet the person who broke your winning streak,"

"It was a fluke!"

"Nick, here, likes to have a flutter."

"Nine times out of nine I win back my money."

"Recently I was tasked with finding an adequate replacement for our last curse-smith, and it has certainly not been easy. Lucky people are easy to find, blessedly long lives, but the unlucky are, well...We needed someone who was just perfect, the goldilocks of fortune. Unlucky enough. So I had Nick help pick out our next candidate. He placed a bet on your team losing, then you were lightning struck inside on a sunny day, and the game was awarded to your team as a good will gesture."

"It's been 668 days since I lost money on a bet."

"Ash, all I want you to do is simply place a small temporary curse on Nick here, and we'll give you whatever advance you wish just name your price."

"I-I don't know how?"

"Just tell Nick that you've placed a curse on him."

"Alright..., I hereby place a..." Ash glanced at Penelope unsure.

"Small and temporary."

"-Small temporary curse on you?"

Nick smirked straightening up and threw the first dart, hitting just north of the bulls eye. Nick smugly readied the second dart, that bounced off the board and hit the floor with an almighty thud. The colleagues began whispering, Penelope called for hush. Nick aimed concentrating, clenching his jaw, hurling the final dart with such force, that it sprang back at them. Ash wisely dove out of the line of fire, Penelope peered out from under a desk, and Nick stood swearing but unflinching.

"Oh c'mon! That's against the laws of physics!"

"I'm certain the laws of physics are optional in this office." Penelope smiled.

The dart was impaled in Nick's right shoe, luckily it had managed to land between his toes." Lift it."

"Lift what?"

"The dart out of my Louis Vuittons - the curse? What else?!"

"How much?" Penelope interjected.

Nick groaned.

"We can't have an unlucky merchant of fortune. I'd say it's worth half your rigged election commission."

Nick shrugged "I'll make it back in five minutes."

"Only if the curse is lifted."

Nick reached under his desk, hefted a duffle bag onto it, tossing fat rolls of dollar bills to Ash."Here's ten."

"Ten?" Ash mumbled holding several rolls of hundred dollar bills.

"Fine...Twenty thousand." Nick shrugged tossing a few more rolls in Ash's direction, who promptly dropped them.

"Honestly Nick! You may be able to get away with leaving your earnings all over the place, but Ash is our new curse-smith so they will need it to be transferred into a secure bank account."

"I'll do it later, Pen. First, lift the curse."

"I lift the curse," Ash giggled, juggling the rolls of money giddily.

"Watch this." Nick grinned with devilish glee, throwing his boot over his shoulder, it impaled itself into the board, stiletto heel point in the centre of the bulls eye. "See, I told you it was a fluke."

Penelope rolled her eyes, and beckoned Ash back to the desk.

"This is yours," she gestured to the desk, then sliding a small black book toward Ash. "This is also yours, this will be your ledger. You need to write the who here, the curse here, the date goes in this column, when the curse is placed, and when it's lifted - although we say it is down to your discretion, often clients will pay more to lift a curse, than to place it. Be careful what you wish for, am I right?"

The morning of the big game, Ash had begged some unseen listener to make something spectacular happen, some great bolt from the blue, that they would be utterly unforgettable in the eyes of the talent scout in attendance.

Ash sat dumbfounded in the seat grasping a plate of blueberry pancakes in one hand and the black book in the other, with rolls of hundred dollar bills in their lap.

"So when would you like to begin?"

"Now?" Ash cut their thumb opening their ledger. Penelope smiled.

"Welcome to the family."