Chance of a Lifetime (Chances Are #1)

  "OK," I say and pocket the card.

  "At the very least, tell me how the clothes are working out for you, all right?"

  "I will."

  With that we leave the store, armed with four shopping bags. I look back; something tells me I'll return soon enough.

  ***

  We don't go very far. Just down a block to a greasy spoon like Rosie's. The woman who waits on us is about as old as Rosie, though not so sunny. "Specials are on the board," she says. "See anything you want?"

  "I'll just have a coffee," Tess says. "Two sugars and one cream."

  "I'll have the same," I say.

  With a huff the waitress saunters off to eventually fetch our coffee. Tess lets out a weary sigh. She looks ready to curl up on the booth seat and go to sleep. "Are you all right?" I ask.

  "I'm a bit tired."

  "Looking after a kid is a lot of work."

  "It's not your fault, dear. I'm worried about Jacob. I know he's hiding something from me. I can always tell when he's keeping a secret."

  I know what secret Jake is keeping: my real name. So I guess it is my fault after all. "Don't policemen keep lots of secrets from their wives?" God knows I kept plenty of secrets from Debbie. Then again she wasn't all that interested to hear my stories about fighting crime in the city after Maddy was born. By then my job no longer sounded like a television show and just another job, same as a window washer or garbage man.

  "Yes, but there's something different about this. He's been acting very evasive."

  "He probably has a good reason."

  "I'm sure he thinks he does."

  "But you don't agree?"

  "There's no way I can know without knowing what it is," she says and yawns. "Did she go all the way to Colombia for the coffee?"

  "Maybe she's unloading it from the burro."

  We laugh more than is deserved at this crummy joke. The waitress picks that moment to return. From the way she glares at us, she knows we were talking about her. "Here's your coffee," she says and slams down both cups. "You want anything else?"

  "Not now. Thank you," Tess says. She takes a sip of the coffee and then makes a face. I sip mine and make an identical face. The coffee tastes like motor oil that's been burned for a couple thousand miles. There's not enough cream and sugar in the world to erase that taste.

  Tess drinks hers anyway. "Those are some nice clothes you bought," she says to change the subject from her husband. "That dress is really pretty. Did your parents ever take you to church?"

  "They weren't very religious."

  "Did they at least get you baptized?"

  "I'm not sure. I don't remember much from back then."

  "I'll talk to Reverend Crane on Sunday. I'm sure we can arrange a baptism if you want one."

  "I don't know," I say. If I do get baptized then in the eyes of the Lord I'd be Stacey Chance for all eternity. I shiver at that thought. "I'll think about it."

  "Of course, dear. It's not something to take lightly."

  I take another sip of coffee-or try to. I turn away so Tess can't see my reaction. Out the window I see a coffeehouse across the street, a grungier version of Starbucks called Kozee Koffee. It can't be any worse than this shit. "I'll be back in a minute," I say.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To get some real coffee." Then I remember I don't have any money. "Can I borrow a couple of bucks?"

  "Here you go, sweetheart," Tess says. She hands me a ten.

  To get across the street I have to weave around a lot of slow cars. I get honked at once and cussed at in three different languages. I flip them off as I wind my way over to the coffeehouse; I hope Tess didn't see me.

  The place smells about as bad as the coffee across the street tastes. It's dark inside; only a pair of dim overhead lamps provide any light. I don't see anyone behind the counter at first. With my luck I caught them on a break.

  "Anyone here?" I call out.

  "Just a moment!" a woman's voice says back. From the sound of it, she's on the floor behind the counter. I get confirmation of this when she pops up like a whack-a-mole a moment later.

  The girl is about my age with hair the color of pink cotton candy. There's a ring in her nose, another in her left eyebrow, and a half-dozen more in each ear. Despite all of this, I know the girl's face.

  It's Maddy.

  Chapter 21

  Maddy doesn't recognize me. Why should she? The last time she saw me I was a thirty-eight-year-old man. I had a beard back then, until it became so gray I had to either dye it or shave it; I chose the latter. There's no reason at all she should recognize me as an eighteen-year-old girl. No reason at all-except that I'm her father. Shouldn't there be some special bond that tells her who I am?

  "What can I get you?" she asks.

  I trip over my own tongue until I spit out, "Coffee."

  "What kind? We have lattes, cappuccinos, espressos, frappes, or just plain old boring coffee. We also have tea-hot and cold-and juice."

  I can tell there's going to be no tearful reunion here. If there are any tears it'll just be me because my own daughter doesn't recognize me. I force myself to take a deep breath and then say, "Cappuccino. Two. To go."

  "Coming right up."

  I can't help but stare at Maddy as she works. She's so different than she was at ten years old. So different even than her high school picture. What's happened to her in the last couple of years? The father in me wants to grab her by the collar and drag her back home so she can get that shit out of her hair and all those rings off of her face. Nose rings are for steer, not little girls.

  But she's not a little girl anymore. She's older than I am. She's free to do whatever she wants, pierce whatever she wants. Even if I were still a man I couldn't force her to do anything.

  When she bends down for something, I see a tattoo on the small of her back. One of those Chinese characters. A "tramp stamp" as they're less-affectionately known. Is my daughter a tramp? Is she sleeping around with someone? Does she have a child? Am I a grandfather?

  A hundred other questions flit through my head while she makes two cappuccinos. I can't ask any of them. How can I? I'm just a stranger to her. Maybe I always was.

  "Here you go," she says. "Two cappuccinos. Just be careful, they're hot."

  "I will," I mumble.

  "Do you want a carrier for them?"

  "No. I'm fine."

  I'm about to turn and walk away, defeated. Then she throws me a lifeline. "Did you buy those clothes from Grace's?"

  "Yeah. How did you know?"

  "I shop there all the time. She's got such great taste."

  "She does. She picked this out for me." I think of what Grace said before I left. "She offered me a job there."

  "No way! Are you going to take it?"

  "I might."

  "Well if you do, maybe you could share your employee discount with me."

  I smile at this. "I guess I could. If she lets me."

  "She doesn't have to know," Maddy says. She leans forward as if someone might hear us. "It could be our secret."

  "And maybe you could give me a discount on coffee."

  "I could." Maddy extends her hand over the counter. "My name's Maddy Griffith."

  Griffith? That's Debbie's maiden name. She must have changed it after the divorce. Whose idea was that? "Stacey Chance."

  "It's good to meet you, Stace. You mind if I call you that?"

  "No, it's fine," I say, though I really want her to call me Daddy like she did when she was little. For now this will have to do.

  ***

  I return to the diner, where Tess dozes in the booth. Her eyes shoot open when I set the cappuccino in front of her. "Oh, how sweet of you."

  "Just thought you might like a decent coffee."

  "That's so thoughtful. Thank you." She takes a sip of the coffee and nods. "That's wonderful. Just what I need."

/>   We leave our used motor oil on the table and set out for the car. I ask Tess to wait outside Grace's store. Grace sits behind the counter and reads her enormous textbook. "Back so soon?" she asks. "Clothes not working out for you?"

  "They're fine," I say. "I decided to take the job. If you're still offering it."

  "That's great." She snaps the book shut and then drops it on the counter with a thud. "So when can you start?"

  "Tomorrow, I guess. Unless you need me sooner."

  "Tomorrow works for me." She reaches beneath the counter for something. It's a couple sheets of paper. "You'll have to fill this out to make it all nice and legal."

  I take the papers from her. It's a job application. The first line is easy enough; all I need is my name. The next box stops me cold. I need a Social Security Number. I could probably use my old one, at least for now. The Feds might have a problem with it in a couple of months, especially if Steve Fischer is declared dead by then, which he certainly will be unless Dr. Palmer comes up with a cure for me.

  "Could I take these home? My aunt is waiting outside and she's kind of tired."

  "Sure. Just bring them back tomorrow. Be here at nine if you can make it. I should be up by then. If not, knock really loud. OK?"

  "OK." I fold the papers up. "Thanks a lot for this. You don't know how much it means to me."

  "It's no problem." Before I can leave, Grace comes around the counter to give me a hug. "You're not my employee yet so that doesn't count as sexual harassment."

  I laugh at this. It might be fun to work for Grace. And it'll allow me to see Maddy every day. At least whenever she works. That's a lot more than I've seen her for the last twelve years.

  Chapter 22

  Jake is less than supportive of my decision when I tell him in his study. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hisses. "You can't tell Maddy. She'll never believe you."

  "I'm not going to tell her. I just want to be around her more."

  "She's not your daughter, Stacey."

  "She'll always be my daughter. No matter what I look like."

  "Jesus Christ," he says with a groan. "Yesterday you were so hot to go and kill Artie Luther and now you're taking a job at a dress shop?"

  "It's not a dress shop. It's a clothes store."

  "A women's clothes store."

  "Well I am a woman in case you hadn't noticed. You'd rather I were working at the S&M store down the road?"

  "I'd just like to know what the fuck you're doing. Is this the hormones again? All that estrogen got you going batty?"

  "I'm not going batty." It doesn't help my case when I start to cry again. Eventually I have to get a handle on these damned hormones. Maybe after all this FY-1978 leaves my system it'll even me out. Or maybe I just need more practice at being a woman. "What if things were reversed? What if you were the one turned into a woman and it were Jenny working at the coffee shop?"

  "We're not dealing with hypotheticals here. We're dealing with reality."

  "None of this is reality. It's all crazy."

  "True." Jake puts a hand on my knee. "This isn't a good idea. I know you love Maddy, but this is only going to hurt you in the end."

  "I don't care! This may be my only chance to get close to her. I'm not going to let it slip away. If you don't understand that, then the hell with you."

  Jake lets out a weary sigh reminiscent of his wife's. "Fine. Take the stupid job. You'll figure out I'm right."

  "I will take the job." But then I look down sheepishly at my feet as I remember the job application. "There's just one problem."

  "Only one?"

  "I don't have a Social Security number. Or any ID. I need it for the application."

  "Well, you're in luck on that score." Jake takes a manila envelope off his desk. He shakes it open and out pops a Social Security card, state ID card, and a birth certificate. "I had one of our mutual friends make these up."

  I pick up the ID card. There's my name: Stacey Lynn Chance. Eighteen years old. The height is a little shorter and the weight a little higher than what Dr. Palmer said. The picture isn't of me, but the girl is a close enough match that no one will notice. I hold the ID card up to the light: the laminate is legit. "Must have gone to Sampson?"

  Ricky Sampson is the best forger not currently behind bars. He would be except that he cut a deal with the DA. He works as a forensics consultant for the city, and the city keeps him out of jail.

  "Yeah. He hasn't forgotten anything."

  "Must have cost a pretty penny."

  "He did it pro bono."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "We exchanged favors."

  "What did you do for him?"

  "I didn't blow his fucking head off."

  I laugh at this. For a moment at least it's like old times. Makes me wish we could go down to Squiggy's and tie one on. But we can't do that, not anymore. "You couldn't have got him to make me twenty-one?"

  "You go up to some bartender and say you're twenty-one and they'll know it's a fake ID. Probably cut it up in front of you and then you'll be screwed."

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "Hey, come on, it'll be all right. Why don't you fill out your application? I need to go out and get a smoke."

  "Sure." As Jake starts to go, I add, "And thanks."

  ***

  When I finish with my paperwork, Tess waits for me with a black purse about the size of a toaster oven. "Here you go, dear. You'll need this."

  "I don't need a purse."

  "Every girl needs a purse. You can't go around with everything sticking out of your pockets, can you?"

  That had worked well enough for me before, but that was when I had a wallet. "I guess not." I take it from her. From the weight I realize it's already got some stuff inside. I open it up and see lipstick, a compact, eyeliner-none of which I know how to use-as well as a hairbrush and three maxi pads. "That's so thoughtful of you."

  "Now you'll look like a woman," Tess says.

  "Yeah, great."

  "Just make sure you take good care of it. There are a lot of people with sticky fingers in this city."

  "I'll be careful." I'd die of embarrassment if I let myself get victimized by a purse-snatcher like some little old lady.

  Tess wraps me in a hug. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You've been here just three days and look at you! You're all cleaned up with some nice new clothes and now you've got a job."

  "I've come a long way." And it's true. When I woke up that first morning I was naked, with nothing, not even a name. In three days I have what amounts to nearly a normal life.

  Maybe Dr. Palmer was right about that second chance.

  Part 4:

  Stacey Rising

  Chapter 23

  I'm so excited I can hardly sleep. It isn't as much about the job as the job's proximity to Maddy. I hope she works tomorrow so I can go over for a coffee and have a little chat with her. If I play my cards right, I might be able to find out a few things about her, about what she's done since her mom and I divorced.

  I lie on Jenny's bed and think of hundreds of different conversations between Maddy and I. Most of them go badly, with her realizing her old dad has become a young girl. In those conversations she screams and sobs while I lurch away into the night like the Frankenstein monster. There are a couple that end better, where she hugs me and I promise things will be different now. I don't put much stock into those.

  I know Jake is right that I can't tell Maddy who I am. She'd never believe me. Maybe after Dr. Palmer's tests are done I could show her the results. But then what? She probably hates me not only for the divorce, but also because I didn't contact her the last twelve years. That my lack of involvement was her mother's idea wouldn't be of any help.

  I toss and turn for a few hours, until I'm sure Jake and Tess are asleep. Then I sneak downstairs and turn on the TV. Mostly it's infomercials at this hour, so I lie on the c
ouch and watch two beautiful people hawk skin care products. I snort as I remember what Dr. Palmer said. FY-1978 would have made products like this obsolete. It would have made just about the entire beauty industry obsolete. That was a lot of money; no wonder Lex wanted to get his hand in that pie.

  Does he have any of the FY-1978? Or any of Dr. Nath's notes? Something that might help Dr. Palmer find a way to cure me? Wouldn't that be a great universal irony if the only person who could save me was the one who did this to me to start with?

  I sigh and try to think of happier thoughts. Maddy looks a lot different than how I had envisioned, but it doesn't matter. I love her anyway. As I told Jake, she'll always be my daughter. I remember the moment the doctor handed little Maddy to me, how perfect she looked. She still had some blood on her, but I didn't care. She was my little angel.

  The tears start to flow again. I do what I can to wipe them away. I try to focus on the present: Maddy with her pink hair and nose rings. Is she on drugs? It didn't seem like it from what I'd seen. That doesn't mean she can't toke a doobie every now and then. What if she is on something? I can't turn in my own daughter.

  I'm not sure when I fall asleep, but when I wake up, Tess stands over me. She has a look of concern on her face. "Are you feeling all right?" she asks.

  "I couldn't sleep," I say. "Nerves."

  "Oh, I see. I could call that woman-"

  "No!" I say, harsher than I mean to. "I'll be fine."

  I don't eat a lot for breakfast, just some toast with jam and a cup of coffee. The coffee I need most of all since I got almost no sleep. I shamble through breakfast and a shower like a zombie.

  The biggest decision of the morning is what to wear. I go through my drawers-where Tess put most of my new clothes-to find something that will look presentable for Maddy. I settle on a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in the left leg Grace assured me was made naturally. I try to smile in the mirror, though my face still looks tired. I suppose it's too late to dye my hair pink and get a few piercings. Not that Tess would ever let me do that. I make sure to grab my new purse before I head downstairs.

  Tess takes me as far as the nearest subway station. I can't escape before she wraps me in a hug. "Have a good day, sweetheart. If you need anything at all, you call me right away."

  "I will."

  "And be very careful. This city isn't safe for a young girl all by herself."