Chapter One
Charlie
I’d often heard the world was black and white, but I didn’t believe the lies. Bad things happened to good people all the time. There were no rules when it came to what was fair and just. We lived, we died, and everything else just was. Right, wrong— it didn’t matter, as long as you made it to tomorrow.
Right now, two hundred bucks would get me a hell of a long way toward tomorrow. Rent was due, and if I didn’t want to end up on the streets again, I had to find a way to come up with the money.
Hustling assholes down at Flying Phoenix Inn, a pub on my side of Detroit, was a sure-fire way to make the money. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how the owners managed to fit so much ego into one building. The place attracted quite the arrogant crowd.
I entered the pub, and a musty scent covered by beer hit my nose. I stepped in a puddle of something wet and sticky— someone’s spilled drink. To be honest, I’d be surprised if the floors were clean in this dump. The place was almost deafening with chatter and music, and sports-enthusiasts complained loudly at the game on TV. Someone bumped into me and kept on walking, as if being blind made me invisible.
I didn’t like to drink— I had to keep my head clear— but it was part of the con. I had to blend in. I ordered a whiskey and took a seat close to the dart boards, sipping on my drink to make it look like I was busy.
Three sets of footsteps approached, and each fell in a heavy, overly confident beat.
Target acquired.
The tap of beer bottles being set down on a table nearby met my ears.
“Who wants to lose first?” the first man asked while cracking his knuckles. He had a deep, smug voice.
“If you go up against me, you’ll be the first to lose, bud,” his friend said, clapping him on the back.
“Oh, really?” the deep voice responded. “We’ll see about that.”
A chair screeched across the floor, and the third guy laughed as he sat. “He’s not wrong, you know.”
“Shut up,” the first guy snapped. “Challenge me to darts any day, and I’ll kick your ass.”
His friend laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you would… after I won.”
“You’ll be eating your words once this is over.”
The third friend was obviously amused by their trash talk. “How about we let the score speak for itself, huh?”
The guy with the deep voice huffed. “Fair enough.”
The men scuffled around, until they retrieved their darts. They went quiet, and heavy footsteps walked up to the starting line. The man took aim, and the dart flew from his fingers. I knew the second it began spinning through the air, because I could feel the flutter of current coming off the fletching.
I didn’t know how I could do it, but I could feel things in the air that other people couldn’t. It was almost like my body was making up for my lost vision by tuning into the smallest shift of air current around me. I could feel every person as they moved through the bar, just by the shifts in the air currents around them. I could feel the air as it moved around items, feel what took up space. You could call it my own personal echolocation, just with air instead of sound. It was how I got around so easily and fooled people into thinking I could see.
The dart landed somewhere near the corner of the dartboard, and the guy groaned. His opponent laughed. “Better luck next time.”
“Screw you,” he responded.
The game continued like that— nothing but trash talk. Neither guy was any better than the other. It was like watching two losers compare dick size when they both had a micropenis. It was honestly a total bore to listen to… until one comment caught my attention.
“You’re so bad, even a blind guy could beat you,” one of the friends said to the other.
The man with the deep voice chuckled. “Too bad there’s no one around to test that theory.”
I smirked and set my whiskey aside. “I’ll give it a shot,” I offered.
The three men turned to me. The first guy must’ve been sizing me up, because he scoffed a moment later. “You think your blind ass could beat me at darts?”
I shrugged. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks I can hit the bull’s eye.”
All three of the men laughed, but the man with the deep voice responded. “You don’t look blind.”
It wasn’t the first time I heard that one. My foster families had told me that my whole childhood.
“I don’t have to look blind for it to be true,” I said. “But hey, if you’re afraid a blind guy will beat you—”
He huffed. “I’m not afraid of anything, hear me?”
I took a step forward. I felt the air currents around his form. He was bigger than me, so much that his breath passed the top of my head. He must’ve been at least six-five, but I wasn’t scared of him. Marty had taught me how to hold my own in a fight.
“Then prove it,” I challenged. “If it helps, I’ll even close my eyes— not like I need them anyway.”
Air moved through his nose quickly, like his nostrils were flared. “Fine,” he conceded. “A hundred bucks for the bull’s eye.”
His friends laughed, and someone placed a dart in my hands. I ran the tip of my shoe along the hardwood floor to feel for the line of tape, then stood behind it. I drew a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut tightly. I couldn’t see the dartboard, but I’d sat in this pub listening to the sounds of darts hitting the wall long enough to know exactly where the board hung.
I thrust the dart forward, and it flew out of my fingertips. Ripples of air rushed past the fletching, and I knew I’d aimed slightly off course.
I didn’t know how I could do it, but when I prayed for the air to follow my command, miracles happened. I could feel the air particles shift around the dart, nudging it back on course in mid-air.
A thud came, then cries of disbelief. The man I was challenging must’ve been gaping like a fish, because I could feel the air coming out of his mouth in waves.
“That-that’s impossible,” he sputtered. “He’s blind!”
“Oh, come on,” one of his buddies encouraged. “Pay up.”
“Told you a blind man could beat you,” the other taunted.
My opponent huffed his disapproval, then reached into his back pocket. “A deal’s a deal, I guess.”
He sounded more willing than I’d anticipated. I was expecting a double or nothing deal here. I heard the sound of a bill sliding over another, and I held my hand out for payment. He placed a crumpled bill in my hand, and his friends’ laughter grew. They tried to hide it, but it was pretty apparent. I knew immediately that I was being swindled.
“We agreed to a hundred,” I snapped.
The man scoffed. “We also agreed you couldn’t see.”
I’d only been guessing about the swindling, but that was all the confirmation I needed.
“I can’t, jackass!” I fumed. I really needed that money. “I just happen to know when I’m being taken advantage of.”
The man laughed and grabbed his beer off the table. He took a swig before responding. “Oh, go walk off a bridge… if you can find one!”