Chances Aren't (13 page)

"You told me about her."

His jaw drops open. "When?"

"In two thousand thirteen."

"The year twenty thirteen?" He looks at me like I have two heads.

I nod with one eye brow cocked wearing a timid smile.

"You mean, l told you this in a year that doesn't happen for a couple decades?" Cringing, he narrows his eyes.

"Uh, yeah."

Shaking his head, he picks up the phone and dials. "This is Greg Marshal. I need security in my office now, please."

I stand and say, "Wait, just give me one minute to explain."

"That's right." Greg says into the phone, before putting down the receiver. "I'm not sure what kind of crap you're trying to pull, but don't move."

"I know this is hard to believe, but I actually work here… for you. You hire me in ninety six."

Folding his arms, he shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't know what kind of drugs you're—"

"We get to be pretty good friends."

"Okay, yeah, buddy."

"Look…" I sigh. "You told me all about how your wife won't do it with the lights on. How you only have sex in missionary position and how unsatisfied you are."

Horrified, he looks around the room as if there could be other people listening. When he returns to glare at me, he says, "You little shit. I'm going to—"

"At lunch one day you told me all about Tracey and how she was the only other girl you were ever with."

With his expression softening a bit, I saw that I was finally reaching him, so I continue, "How she, you know, went down on you when you were parked near the railroad tracks."

"Shit." His jaw falls open.

"How you never forgot about her. How she moved away and you never saw her again."

"Yeah…" Greg spins in his chair to look out the window.

I return to my seat and take a deep breath. "You told me you love your wife, Alice, with all your heart, but you just couldn’t forget about Tracey. You told me you thought about her a lot."

"I've, um, never told anyone about this— no one." He sighs and spins in his chair back to look me in the eye. "But, how do you know all this?"

"Have you ever seen that old movie
Back to the Future
?" I give him a confused look. "Wait, has that even come out yet?"

He looks at me like I'm out of my mind. "Oh, so you're saying you went back in time riding in a Delorean."

"No, but it's just like that movie except Michael J. Fox, when he goes back, he doesn't change... he's still the same age, but when I did it, I came back as my younger self." Cocking my head, I make a face. "Which sorta makes sense, I guess."

He's looking past me with his eyes glazing over as he seemingly fights to process all this. After a moment, he says, "Oh… okay, yeah—"

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. Greg gets up, opens it and steps out and closes the door. A few seconds later, he returns alone and plops down in his chair, looking me in the eye, speechless.

"Wait." I smile. "I can prove it to you." I pull out my cell phone, and type on the screen.

"What the hell is that?"

"Cell phone," I say as if he should know what that is. Looking up from my phone, I give him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, these come out in the nineties. You can make calls and use the Internet and… wait what time is it?"

He looks at the clock. "Almost three thirty."

"Shit, just watch this." I press the screen and hand him the phone.

He looks at the picture I took of him at his office birthday party. "Oh, God I look just like my father. Do I really lose all that hair?"

I give him a sympathetic nod. "So do I."

He looks the phone over carefully and hands it back to me. "You're here why… how?"

"I don't have time for all that now. You believe me, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "I guess."

"Good. Do you think you could give me a ride to College Park? I need to get there before six."

"Why?"

"My shift starts at six."

"Shift?"

"Yeah, I have to work at the ice cream place," I say casually.

Now he looks at me like I'm really out of my freaking mind. "You came all the way back here to work at some crappy job in an ice cream place?"

"No… yes… I mean…" I shake my head frustrated. "I came back to get a second chance with the girl I let get away— this amazing girl. The girl of my dreams." I sigh, dreamily, slumping back in my chair.

He puts his hand to his chin. "You realize this is crazy, right?"

"Yeah, but… Look, I really don't understand how this whole time travel thing works, but I'm pretty sure if I don’t get there by six, none of what is supposed to happen tonight will happen and I might screw everything up."

Five minutes later, Greg's driving me in his aging Honda Civic toward College Park. Realizing I've forgotten to check myself in a mirror since I've been sort busy going back in time and explaining all of it, I pull down the visor and take the opportunity. I run my hands over my face, grinning. "Wow."

I tilt the mirror up looking at my hairline as I run my fingers through it. "I really miss having actual hair. Losing it really sucks." I glance over to Greg. "Sorry."

"I don't want to think about it," he grumbles.

"Does anyone even know why the hell men lose hair? I mean, it makes absolutely no sense. Name one other thing on your body that just falls off?"

He simply shrugs. "What year did you say you, um, left from?" He makes a face as if he can't believe he's actually asked that question.

"What?" I'm still engrossed in checking out my old— new hair.

"What year?"

"Two thousand thirteen."

"So, I still have my job?"

"Yeah, you're a Director."

"Huh." He smiles briefly before letting out a sigh.

Looking out the window, I shake my head in disbelief as I see all these cars from the late eighties looking so shiny and new. Everything looks so strange. We're driving past places I know, but really I don't— open fields where there should be strip malls and forests where there should be housing developments. We pass a gas station and the price is ninety nine cents a gallon. I let out a chuckle.

"So what's it like?" Greg asks.

"What?"

"The future."

I take a moment. "It kinda sucks. I mean, you know, how they say everything is worse now than it was when you grew up?"

"Yeah."

"We'll it's really a mess. Gas is like four dollars a gallon. Wars in the Middle East, terrorists and... it's all reality shows on TV."

"What's a reality show?"

"Like they take one girl who's not married and match her up with like twenty guys. She sorta gets to know them and eliminates them one by one until she picks one to marry or something like that."

"And that's a show?"

"Oh, there's lot of them. Like this year there was a new show where they get washed up celebrities to dive into a pool."

"You're kidding?"

"No."

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

"And the Internet is a big deal. Somehow all the computers in the world are connected together. It starts in the mid-nineties and takes off like crazy. Everyone has a cell phone and their phones are also connected to the Internet. It's a whole social media thing." I nod my head. "Facebook, yeah Facebook is a big deal."

"Huh." Looking at me with a glimmer in his eye, he says. "So I should buy stock in this Facebook when it comes out."

"No." I chuckle. "Only if you want to lose half your money."

He frowns. "Oh, so what's a good investment?"

"I'm not so sure I should tell you?" I fold my arms. "I mean, it's not really fair is it?"

"Well, I'm not so sure I should be driving you either." He makes a face.

"I'm kidding." I break into a grin. "I'm no investment expert, but it's pretty simple. Can you buy stock in Microsoft now?"

"Yes, I own some shares."

"Good, buy all of that you can. Hold that until you hear the word Amazon. They become this giant Internet retailer. Buy every share you can, mortgage your house, sell a kidney… borrow money. Buy it all the stock doubles and triple like every week for a while. It's ridiculous."

"Okay, okay."

"Just make sure you sell it before the end of nineteen ninety nine."

"Why?"

"There's a stock market crash, a big one." I nod my head and grimace. "That one really screwed me over."

"Oh."

"Get completely out of the stock market and buy real estate, but be sure to sell all that in two thousand five." I nod with my lip curled up. "Talk about bubbles, wait till you see the real estate bubble."

"Real estate." He whispers to himself.

"Then buy gold."

"Okay, got it… Microsoft, Amazon, real estate then gold." He narrows his eyes. "What were the years again?"

"I'll write it down for you."

"Great. There's some paper and a pen in the glove compartment."

Searching for the paper, I remember something, stop and turn toward Greg. "Hey, um, on September eleventh two thousand one."

"Yeah."

"Stay away from New York and don't get on a plane."

"Really?"

"Yeah, this group of terrorists hijack planes and fly them into the Trade Center towers." I let out a sigh. "Both of them come down. Like three thousand people die."

"Shit, seriously?"

I nod. "It's fucked up. I suppose I or you could call the F.B.I. or something and let them know, like a few months before. Or maybe they'd lock us up." Shrugging my shoulders, I frown, thinking. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be changing the course of history or anything like that. I mean, if we stop that attack maybe instead they do something worse, like a nuclear bomb or something. I don't want to be responsible for the end of the world, you know?"

He nods his head. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Uh-huh."

"But the investment stuff that can't hurt, can it?" Motioning to the glove box, he gives me a hopeful look.

"How could that hurt anyone?" I grin, resuming my search for the slip of paper.

When we reach campus, it looks pretty much as I remembered it. I direct Greg to the strip mall where the ice cream place is now back where it should be— the Cold Stone nowhere to be seen. Looking at the clock, I see I have twenty minutes to get changed and make it to work. I point to the frat house, which is visible from the parking lot. "That's where I'm staying for the summer."

He frowns.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"Okay." He humors me with half a smile.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Thanks for this." He holds up the paper where I wrote the king of all investment strategies.

I give him a bright smile. "This is going to be a lot of fun." Opening the door, I look back to him. "See ya."

"You need anything else?"

"I don't think so."

After retrieving his wallet from his pants, he pulls out a business card and hands it to me. "Just call if you do."

"Cool."

I close the door to the car and head toward the frat house and the start of my adventure. I'm taking it all in. The bike shop is back at the smaller cluster of stores next to the strip mall along with the Hungry Herman's sub shop next door to the 7-11. Taking a deep breath, I feel young and alive for the first time in a long time. College girls are around and I find myself staring at them and not feeling like a creep. God, I missed being here. I missed all this. I'm certain now that I know things and actually have a personality that will allow me to do much better with women. I'm confident I can talk to them now without sounding like a complete idiot.

Nearing the frat house, I'm approaching two gorgeous girls heading my way. I smile. "Hi, how are you?"

They both scowl at me and one says, "Fuck off."

Okay, maybe I need to dial it back just a bit.

I walk through the unlocked front door to the frat house and see the pool table in the room to the right. After heading up the steps, I turn down the hall toward my old room. The one I shared with Alan, who if memory serves, just happens to be away for the night. I smile as I turn the knob, that is, until I find it locked. "Shit."

I try the knob again then hear, "You lock yourself out again?" I turn to discover a somewhat familiar face, but I can't remember his name. One of the brothers from the house, he's the main guy, the responsible one who takes care of everything.

"Locked out?" he repeats.

"Uh, yeah and I have to get to work in a few minutes."

"Hold on." He heads into his room and seconds later returns with a key.