Page 77 of Little Miss Fortune

‘I need two strong boys to hold the tank above, four weaker boys to light up the syrup using the lamps, and one weak but still impressive boy to drop the tube into the tank.’

This violates several health and safety rules, so we have to be quick. I do not want the men to drop the glass box over Malik’s head, who seemingly sees the vision—the product will fall into the honey, coming into focus when it hits the glass bottom. I haven’t concluded what message I want to tell yet, but at this point, I think it isn’t as important as making sure we have one shot that would rate PG in cinemas.

The first try is unsuccessful. The focus is off; the man on the left wobbled and caused a tilt. The runner brings two sturdy chairs that hold the tank up for the second shot. The second try is much better, but I didn’t love that the cap was leading the fall and hit the glass first. For the third and (luckily!) final shot, we have refilled the tube to make sure there is no air that could make it float. I have also asked the dropper to submerge the tube and keep in close to the surface rather than dropping it into the syrup from above. It takes forever to fall, but John is happy to fix it in post.

‘Well done today.’ Malik smiles, packing away the cables.

‘You too. Thank you for volunteering to take the camera at the end there.’

‘Can’t let a lady crawl on the floor. I do not know if we wash it.’

I look at the syrup splatters. ‘Please do it this time.’

‘If you ever need a camera and crew, let me know. It was nice working with...’ He thinks really hard about what word he is allowed to use. ‘With a different vision.’ He smiles, in a way that is kind and friendly. Without a trace of flirting that was there at Salsa.

‘I am sorry I didn’t call.’

‘Nah, it’s all good, no stress. I thought it was a long shot, anyway, after pretty boy swooped in.’

Wow, so it was obvious to everyone, huh? Embarrassing. ‘Don’t let him hear that, he’ll get too big for his boots.’

‘But I am not being funny, like, if you want to shoot, give me a shout.’ He winks and opens the Peli case. Damn, John did well. I think the military uses them. It must be that Dubai sheikh’s money.

It’s almost five o’clock. I unlock my phone and take it off Airplane Mode. Toby’s message pops on the screen, and I can’t help but smile.

Toby: Listen, I know I am not back to work yet, so no date allowed... But I want to see you.

If there weren’t people around, I would squeal from happiness.

Fuko: I am listening.

The speech bubble pops up immediately.

Toby: There is a pub quiz tonight. Me and some friends are going. I would like you to come if you are not too tired.

‘Fuko.’ Steven waves me down, his bag fully packed. ‘Well done, very impressed with your initiative. Does make me wonder why we are paying them that much money when we have someone in-house who could do things better for cheaper.’

The last sentence was said with the most secretive of whispers. He keeps talking about other work-related things, when I hear the amulet’s bell chime. Multiple compliments, fun day at work, and a confirmed increase in luck.

Fuko: I want to see you too. Have many stories to tell. I feel like today is a good day for a pub quiz.

Toby: Excellent. I’ll see you there.

There is nothing stopping me today.

CHAPTER 27

August 9th. Because it’s not too hot, not too cold, all you need is a small pub quiz

I stop right in front of the pub that Toby sent me to. My spirits were too high to ask the right questions in the moment. My judgement was too clouded by the girlish joy of a new blooming relationship to query very important information. But on the escalator, I typed out:

Fuko: So what friends am I meeting?

Toby: They’re my friends from Oxford.

I feel my determination deflate with every second. I try not to judge anyone, but something about them all being from the numberone university in the UK makes me lose my confidence (number-two if you ask anyone from Cambridge). I recall some kids at my Catholic school making fun of Sashka’s and my accents, constantly mispronouncing our names, and persistently pretending to not understand what we were saying the first time we said it.

Fuko: I’m outside, being a chicken.