Final Breath

swarthy man again--among the audience, just a bit closer to the platform each time.

The network had sent a stack of her latest 8 x 10 glossies publicizing On the Edge. She signed about a hundred of those. She couldn't believe that some people still had 8 x 10 photos of her from her figure-skating days. She even signed a few old copies of Making Miracles: My Own Story. All the while, she kept an eye on that stranger in the blue T-shirt. He'd been getting closer and closer to the celebrity platform, and now he stood in line right by the platform steps.

It made her a bit nervous. But what could he do to her in front of all these people?

'Sydney, can I come around there and get my picture taken with you?' asked a large forty-something woman with honey-blond hair.

Nodding, Sydney got to her feet. 'You bet. What's your name?'

'I'm Shirley!' the woman squealed. 'Oh my God, this is so exciting! I love your Mover & Shaker stories!'

Sydney shook her hand. 'Well, thanks, Shirley. Get on back here.'

While the woman eagerly trotted around to her side of the table, Sydney stole another look at Mr. 59. He was standing on the platform steps now.

She and Shirley put their arms around each other, while Shirley's friend took three different photos. Shirley asked for an extra autograph for her daughter, who wanted to be an Olympic figure skater. Sydney signed it: To Audrey, Best of luck on & off the ice. Shirley thanked her over and over, then gave her a hug and moved down the line.

Sydney stole another look toward the other end of the platform. She didn't see Mr. 59 on the steps or in the line of people. She gazed out at the crowd dispersing in front of the store. She tried to catch a glimpse of him. That blue T-shirt should have given him away. But Sydney didn't see him anywhere. It was as if he'd disappeared.

'Hi, Sydney,' a woman was saying to her. 'I don't watch your show, but I'd really love an autograph.'

'Um, sure,' she said. She scribbled her name on one of the 8 x 10s, then handed it to the woman. 'There you go. Excuse me.'

She walked around the table. Several people in line said hello to her. She smiled and nodded back, but she kept glancing out at the parking lot--and beyond. Eli was probably on one of the rides over by the fun fair area.

Gil had given up the mike and was signing autographs. Sydney asked one of the big-shots with ValuCo if she could use the microphone to make an announcement. 'Um, my son was supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago,' she explained.

The middle-aged man, sweating in a business suit, nodded. 'Help yourself, Sydney.'

She went to Gil's mike, and switched it on. 'Eli McCloud!' she said, trying not to sound too shrill. She kept thinking, he's really going to love this. 'Eli McCloud, please meet your mother at the platform by the ValuCo front entrance...'

She repeated the announcement, all the while gazing out at the parking lot for the stranger in the blue T- shirt. There was still no sign of the man.

Sydney hoped she'd find him--before Eli did.

'What exactly do you mean?' Eli asked timidly. 'What kind of danger am I in?'

Marcella stroked the palm of his hand and said nothing.

Finally, Eli pulled his hand away. 'You--you can't just tell me something like that, and expect me not to freak out. When you say I'm--facing a loss, do you mean somebody I know might die?'

Marcella nodded. Her expression was unreadable behind those dark glasses. 'Someone close to you,' she said. 'It may be prevented, though. I know a way to help you.'

The German shepherd stirred a bit as Marcella hoisted a big cloth purse off the floor and plopped it in her lap. She fished out a pencil and a notepad. 'Write down your address,' she said.

Eli wasn't sure if the woman planned to send someone over to rob them later or what, but he scribbled down their address at Tudor Court.

'I will create some good luck for you,' Marcella said. 'But you must help me. In order for this to work, you need something valuable. Do you have a twenty-dollar bill on you?'

Eli stared at her and blinked. 'Um, I'm not sure,' he lied. He still had a twenty from the twenty-five bucks his mother had given him.

'It can work with a ten-dollar bill,' she sighed. 'But a twenty is better--the stronger the value, the stronger the luck. You don't have to hand it to me, Eli. I just need to see it.'

Reluctantly, he reached into his pants pocket and found the twenty. He showed it to her, folded up. He wondered if she'd suddenly lunge for it.

Instead she leaned back in the chair, took her cigarette from the ashtray, and puffed on it. 'Unfold the bill and show me the front side.'

Eli was obedient. But he balked as she reached over and touched the top right corner of the bill. 'Tear that corner off--so the twenty mark is separated from the rest of the bill,' she said.

Eli hesitated.

'Go on. Do what I tell you. It'll bring you luck. Tear it off, and stick the torn piece inside your pocket. You'll need to keep that in a special place for the next twenty days.'

Eli figured he could always tape it up later. He carefully tore the top right corner from his mother's twenty- dollar bill, then tucked the detached piece into his shirt pocket.

'Now, let me tear off the opposite corner,' she said, reaching for the twenty.

Eli held the bill very tightly while Marcella ripped off the bottom-left-corner 20 mark. She held that corner piece to her heart for a moment and lowered her head as if in prayer. Eli could see her lips moving. Then she gave him the torn-off little section. 'You need to put that in another special place, Eli. Keep it there for twenty days.'

He slipped the second severed corner into his shirt pocket. Something about all this didn't feel right.

She glanced at his address scribbled on the notepad, tore it off the piece of paper, and slapped it down on the table. 'Fold up the twenty-dollar bill, set it on top of this paper, and then fold over the paper so you can't see the bill anymore. The bill needs to be completely covered.'

Eli squinted at her. 'Are you going to make my twenty bucks disappear?'

She sighed. 'I'm trying to help you, Eli--'

He pushed his chair away and quickly got to his feet. 'I'm sorry,' he said. He shoved the mangled twenty back in his pants pocket. The knot in his stomach got even tighter. 'I--I'm not comfortable with this. I've got to go.'

The dog suddenly stood up and let out a bark.

'Don't put the bill back together for twenty days!' Marcella warned. 'It's bad luck!'

But Eli didn't stop to listen. 'I'm sorry!' he called, hurrying out of the booth. He only glanced back to make sure the dog wasn't chasing him. It was all clear; no sign of Marcella or her German shepherd.

As he turned forward again, Eli almost slammed right into a lean twenty-something man with a dark complexion. He looked Italian or Latino; Eli wasn't sure. 'Sorry!' he said.

But the man said nothing. He wore sunglasses, a baseball hat, and a light summer jacket, which he must have just bought--or stolen--from ValuCo, because it still had part of the sales tag sticking out of the sleeve. It was weird how on this hot day, the guy wore the beige jacket zipped all the way up to his neck.

'Sorry,' Eli repeated, edging past the man.

He made his way through the crowded fairgrounds toward the parking lot. Eli looked over at the ValuCo store and tried to catch a glimpse of the celebrity stage by the front door. But he was still too far away. Four older teenagers walked past him: two pretty girls and their loud, dumb-ass, cigarette-smoking boyfriends. The girls were holding balloons.

Eli looked over his shoulder at them. What he saw made him stop.

The man in the beige jacket stood a few feet behind him.

The teenage foursome walked past the man. One of the guys popped the girls' balloons with his cigarette. The two loud bangs were followed by a piercing shriek from both girls. Everyone in the area stopped to look at them except for the man in the beige jacket. He didn't turn around at all. He just kept staring in Eli's direction--his eyes shielded by the dark glasses.