Author's Note
This story was built on a concept I worked out a long time ago, before I'd even begun to write my bigger series, Love and Fortune. In a way, some of the ideas from this one actually went on to influence Love and Fortune! I love the idea of a protagonist getting a magical 'free pass' to bond and play with amazing women, and that's definitely what this is about. But here, the means of that is a little different. And there are some other fun twists involved.
Of course, what you're about to read is a total rewrite from that old first draft I never published. I'm hoping it can be a big start to a series that can grow on its own and explore some places that my other writing hasn't gone. Like with most of the currently posted chapters of Love and Fortune, don't expect to find a ton of gripping tension or high stakes here. I do intend to set up some conflict, but more in the 'comedy of errors' sense... mostly.
And don't worry -- more Love and Fortune is very much still happening! I'm currently hashing out a rewrite of the first 3 chapters (maybe to be posted here, maybe elsewhere) before moving on with the promised Book 2. The starts of a few other new stories are cooking now, too. For now, though: hope you all enjoy reading this!
1. Irresistible Finds
God, Cal hated Tuesdays.
He'd realized that back when he'd worked. Monday had its notoriety, sure; the groaning, decaffeinated slog after the weekend had fizzled away. But Tuesday was like its ugly stepchild. It was long and awkward and tedious. The promise of the Wednesday hump, and the faster rush of Thursday into Friday after that, never seemed to make any Tuesday pass by faster, either. If weekends were heaven and Monday was hell, Tuesday was purgatory. A slow, soul-crushing ennui.
And this one was worse than most. Because Cal wasn't working anymore. In fact, this was the one-week anniversary of what might have been the worst Tuesday of all: the day he'd been laid off.
His boss had been apologetic, but the company had taken a downturn, and they had to cut costs. "We overhired, I'm afraid," Darren had said. "You're a great guy, and you do good work, but these choices have to be made sometimes. I wish it could be different."
Cal had nodded. He hadn't said much, because what was there to say? He didn't blame Darren; he didn't blame the company. It was just life. And hadn't that job been a lot of draining work, anyway? The early rises, the physical labor, the obnoxious clients. Maybe, eventually, he'd be better off without it. There was just the ever-so-small hurdle of having to get by with no income until he found another one.
"Fuck me," Cal muttered as he stared at the aisle before him. As the lame, canned music serenaded his ears. As he pushed his little half-sized buggy through one of the most tedious, lifeless places on earth.
The local grocery store.
He'd come for some basic supplies. Toothpaste; paper towels; probably some packs of cheap ramen, too, because his strained budget was going to force him to eat like a college student for a while. And body wash. He might have been in a rut, but he wasn't so far gone as to let hygiene slip. Going days on the couch without showering was a state so low, he didn't want to contemplate what would have to happen to him to make him sink there.
He did, after all, still have a social life. His friends would expect him at that house party this weekend, and while Cal couldn't promise he wouldn't mope to them about his situation, he couldn't very well show up smelling like a loser on top of that. A few attractive girls were going to be there, too. Some friends of friends he'd noticed at the last get-together, and -- still being employed back then -- had felt confident enough flirting with.
Now, though, there'd be the elephant in the room that was his unemployed status. What kind of person would want to date a guy who'd just lost his job? From a dark place in his mind, the thought of that meaningless couch-potato lifestyle reared back up... and almost, for a second or two, seemed more appealing than last time.
Cal sighed. "Don't go dark. Focus. That's how you'll get out of this. Focus." For now, there was the task of shopping. He'd already grabbed the toothpaste, paper towels, and ramen. All that was left was the body wash.
His go-to stuff came in a green bottle, didn't cost much, and had a good, natural scent without being overpowering. He'd never been the type of guy to go for Axe or anything like that; he wanted to smell like a man, but not a walking billboard that shouted to the world "I'm a brain-dead, fuck-boy douchebag!" He'd known too many idiots back in his college days who'd sworn by the stuff; who must have thought they were irresistible -- and yet he'd never happened to see any of them leave a party with a girl.
He found the right section in the store and stopped in front of the shelf. He scanned the brands, looking for his usual one... but the only evidence of it was a price label on a shelf picked completely bare. Beside that empty void, as if there just to taunt him, sat row upon row of every kind of Axe product imaginable.
Cal let out a long, pained breath. Maybe the cosmos was just laughing at him today.
He read the cheesy labels and groaned. "Axe Apollo," he muttered. "Axe Dark Temptation. Axe Excite. Axe Anarchy. Jesus Christ." He hated stooping this low, but if this was all they had... He shook his head and grabbed a bottle of the cheapest, most generic one, just to get this over with.
He was about to turn away when a glint of gold caught his eye.
On the bottom shelf, pushed off to the side, was an unmarked bottle of what looked to be body wash. He paused, just looking at it from a distance, wondering what the hell it was, and why he'd never seen it here before. It didn't have a label. It didn't have a price tag. And the bottle didn't look like the rest of the cheap plastic ones. It appeared to be made of actual glass -- and finely-crafted glass at that, embossed with patterns that caught the light.
Cal squatted low and reached for it. It was heavier than he expected, and he wondered if it had been misplaced or miscategorized. Was it one of those fancy candles? It looked more like that... well, honestly, it looked most like some prop from a fantasy movie. Maybe an underpaid stocker had put it on the wrong shelf, or some hurried shopper had decided they didn't want it after all, but hadn't had the time or patience to return it to its proper section.
But when he turned the bottle over in his hand, he saw that it was indeed filled with some kind of liquid. Something golden and viscous and pearlescent, moving like thick honey within its confines.
"What the hell?" he said aloud.
The bottle had a glass cap, like a fancy perfume or cologne bottle. Cal unscrewed it and gave the bottle a sniff.
He was greeted by the most intoxicating scent that had ever hit his senses.
It smelled like the forest... yet not quite. Like a field of exotic flowers... yet not quite. Smooth vanilla, musky cedar, spicy cinnamon, sweet sandalwood -- and a million other things he couldn't quite identify, all blended together into something that seemed to transcend the boundaries of space and time, of this world and the next.
Cal breathed deep, and the scent filled his nose, his lungs, his entire being. It was a feeling of warmth and comfort and relaxation, of home and hearth and everything good in the world.
And it also seemed to... promise.
What, exactly? He couldn't be sure. How even could he be sure of anything when his head was spinning like this? His heart was beating faster; his blood was pumping hotter. He felt like he'd just had an orgasm, or a hit of the best drug in the world. Right there in the middle of the goddamned grocery store.
What the actual fuck?
He closed his eyes tight, lowering the bottle and shaking his head. The feelings dissipated, but slowly; it took several seconds for him to feel normal again. When he opened his eyes, he looked around, hoping no one had been around to gawk at his strange display. But the rest of the aisle was empty. Good; the last thing he needed was to look like a fool in public, after everything else that had happened lately.
He screwed the cap back on and stared down at the bottle.
This was definitely not an ordinary brand. This must have been of the highest quality money could buy. Something a supermodel or a movie star would use -- the kind of person who shopped for their toiletries at high-end beauty shops or luxury boutiques, not a run-of-the-mill supermarket in the middle of a lousy suburb. A bottle of this stuff probably cost hundreds.
He turned it over, looking for a label or a price tag, but found nothing. It was just an unmarked bottle of golden liquid, with no brand name, no logo, and no explanation for how it had gotten there. Even the shelf he'd pulled it from bore no indication of its origin; no hint that it had ever belonged there at all.
Cal bit his lip. He glanced around again. Then he looked back at the bottle.
And he set it into his shopping cart.
If nothing else, he was curious. If he brought it to the register, would the cashier be able to tell him anything? Would they know where it had come from, or what it was doing here in the first place? Had someone accidentally left it behind after buying it in another, infinitely more lavish store? If nothing else, the responsible thing to do would be to take it to the customer service desk and let the store sort out the mystery.
It would at least make this purgatorial Tuesday a little more interesting.
Cal pushed his half-sized cart over to the checkout lane, acting as normal as he could. He filed into the line, waiting behind an old lady with a basket of cat food and canned vegetables -- who might very well have existed in a different time stream from himself, for how goddamned slow she moved. Ugh. As she loaded her items onto the conveyor belt at a snail's pace, Cal's eyes strayed back to the bottle of golden body wash in his cart. And he felt all kinds of mysterious, wicked temptations.
He didn't have to show it to the cashier. He didn't have to let the store take it back. If he took it, no one would notice. If he took it, the security scanners at the door wouldn't sound the alarm. If he took it, he could keep it for himself. Who would miss it? Who would even care?
