Even Odds Read Free

his life. Sure, it was a job in the art field, which they’d never enjoyed, but it was a job with a steady paycheck. Getting fifteen hundred miles away from his mother’s judgmental frown was just a bonus.
    Florida could be a fresh start for him. He could put his failed business, failed relationships, failed life behind him, and start anew.
    He glanced up at the clock again, then back at his sculpture. He could spend another hour here on this mermaid, head home, shower, and still be on the road by three o’clock to beat Boston’s rush-hour traffic. Pulling open the door to the storage unit, he let in the bitterly cold air to ventilate his tiny workshop. Then he slid his welding mask onto his face and fired up the torch, turning the blue flame onto his sculpture. Maybe he could get the tail right before he left.

Isabel watched the endless parade of bags circle on the luggage carousel, waiting for hers with a thrum of low-grade anxiety that she always felt in this situation. Even though no airline had ever lost her bags, she kept expecting it, remembering her mother’s preference to pack everything into a carry-on rather than trust strangers with their belongings. Maybe she should have done the same, even though she generally resisted adopting her mother’s anxious behaviors. But taking her Hitachi Magic Wand in a carry-on was risky, a guarantee that her bags would be searched in front of all her coworkers and the giant vibrator unearthed for all to see; that thought alone had been enough to make her risk sending all her belongings to Sri Lanka, or wherever lost bags ended up. Now, standing in her growing tension, she considered that maybe it would have been worth risking the embarrassment of a public search to ensure her bag would arrive safely.
    Just when she’d resigned herself to purchasing all new clothes and toiletries in Boston, her bag slid into view, a Legend of Zelda Triforce luggage tag tied to the handle for easy identification. All the tension left her in a rush and she tugged the bag off the luggage carousel. She was a jittery mess. Maybe that last cup of coffee on an empty stomach had been a bad idea. Unable to sleep on the plane, she’d opted for caffeine to keep her awake, and the extra jolt on top of her normal two morning cups was making her feel like a live wire.
    Matthew snagged his suitcase from behind where Isabel’s had been on the carousel. “That’s the last of it, right?”
    â€œThis is it for me.” Isabel patted her bag, then looked over at Dan, who nodded, shouldering his backpack.
    â€œLloyd went to call the shuttle.” Dan tapped Lloyd’s suitcase with his foot.
    As if on cue, Lloyd reappeared. “There’s a shuttle already on its way over. You got your makeup bag, Isabel?” He flashed her a smile, his mouth a bit too broad for his face, giving her the illusion that he might have an extra row of teeth like a shark.
    â€œRight in here, along with all my lingerie and sex toys.” Her own smile was thin, no teeth, the kind of smile she hoped said Don’t fuck with me. The line between “I’m just teasing” and “I’m being a passive-aggressive blowhard” was difficult to identify with Lloyd sometimes. He bantered with her like the others, but there was a sharp undercurrent, a vinegar tone to his teasing. He made her feel defensive, and she hated feeling defensive. If he were a video-game opponent, she’d destroy him, but he was her coworker, and making waves would undermine her professional reputation. If she occasionally imagined him walking into a glass door or getting a bad case of crabs, well, no one had to know she wasn’t totally professional.
    Boston’s Logan Airport shouldn’t be as busy as it was for a Thursday afternoon, but either DiceCon was a bigger draw than Isabel had anticipated or there was some other reason for the millions of people who also seemed to be trying