The Thief's Lucky Charm

I didn't mean to steal Mrs. Abernathy's cat. Honest. But when you're known as the neighborhood's most nimble-fingered "collector of misplaced items," sometimes things just... happen. And Mr. Whiskers happened to be wearing a very shiny, very pawnable collar. 

"Ruby!" Mrs. Abernathy's shrill voice cut through the humid Harlem air. "You bring Mr. Whiskers back this instant!"

I peered down from my perch on the fire escape, the fat tabby purring contentedly in my arms. "Sorry, Mrs. A! Looks like he wanted a change of scenery. Can't blame him, considering that floral wallpaper you've got."

Her face turned an impressive shade of purple. "Don't you sass me, young lady. I know you've been eyeing my mother-of-pearl choker!"

I gasped, feigning shock. "Me? Never! Though now that you mention it, that does sound like a mighty fine piece of jewelry."

With a wink, I hoisted Mr. Whiskers onto my shoulder and shimmied down the rusty ladder. The cat, bless his furry little heart, clung to me like I was his personal tree. As soon as my feet hit the cracked sidewalk, I deposited Mr. Whiskers, sans his collar, gently at Mrs. Abernathy's feet.

"There you go, safe and sound. No need to thank me for the complimentary cat-sitting."

Before she could launch into another tirade, I darted off down the street, weaving through the colorful crowd of Harlem's finest. A mix of jazz and soul poured from open windows, providing the perfect soundtrack to my getaway.

I slipped into Mama Josie's corner store, bell tinkling overhead. The smell of fresh bread and spices hit me like a warm hug.

"Ruby, child," Mama Josie's rich voice called out. "What trouble you stirring up now?"

I flashed her my most innocent smile. "Who, me? I'm as pure as the driven snow."

She snorted, dark eyes twinkling. "That snow must've landed in a coal mine, then."

I dramatically clutched my chest. "You wound me, Mama J. And here I thought you'd be proud of my can-do spirit."

"Can-do, my foot. You best be careful, girl. That sticky-fingered spirit of yours is gonna land you in hot water one of these days."

I waved off her concern, snagging an apple from a nearby crate and taking a big, crunchy bite. "Nah, I'm too quick for that. Besides, someone's gotta keep things interesting around here."

Mama Josie shook her head, but I caught the hint of a smile. "Just remember, there's a fine line between interesting and foolish."

"And I dance on that line with the grace of Alvin Ailey," I quipped, doing a little twirl for emphasis.

The store's bell chimed again, and in walked Tommy "Two-Tone" Jackson, sporting his signature mismatched shoes. 

"Yo, Ruby! You still up for that thing later?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Depends. Is this 'thing' gonna get me grounded for a month or shipped off to a convent?"

Tommy grinned, gap-toothed and mischievous. "Nah, nothing like that. Just a little... reallocation of resources."

I tossed my apple core into the trash with perfect aim. "Now you're speaking my language, Two-Tone. Count me in."

As we headed out, Mama Josie called after us, "You two behave now, you hear?"

I threw her a salute. "Always do, Mama J. It's not our fault if trouble comes looking for us!"

Stepping back into the bustling Harlem streets, I felt that familiar thrill of anticipation. Another day, another adventure. And who knew? Maybe this time, I'd actually manage to keep my hands to myself.

But probably not.

* * *

Tommy and I sauntered down 125th Street, the rhythm of Harlem pulsing around us. The plan was simple: snag a few wallets from the tourists gawking at the Apollo Theater. Easy pickings, or so I thought.

"Hold up," Tommy said, grabbing my arm. "I got something better."

I raised an eyebrow. "Better than separating wide-eyed out-of-towners from their cash? This I gotta hear."

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You ever hear of the Lucky Lady's Locket?"

"Sounds like something my grandma would wear to bingo night."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Nah, it's way cooler than that. It's this old jazz relic, supposed to bring crazy good luck to whoever has it."

I snorted. "Right, and I'm secretly Billie Holiday's long-lost granddaughter."

"I'm serious, Ruby! This thing's legit. My cousin's friend's uncle swears he saw it work miracles."

"Ah yes, the most reliable source of information. Your cousin's friend's uncle."

Tommy ignored my sarcasm. "It's at the Blue Note. You know, that fancy jazz club on 3rd Avenue?"

Now that caught my attention. The Blue Note was legendary, known for its smoky atmosphere, killer music, and a place my mother frequented.

"And how exactly do you propose we get in there, Two-Tone? In case you haven't noticed, we're a couple of teenage delinquents, not high-rolling jazz enthusiasts."

He grinned, that gap-toothed smile spelling trouble. "That's where your sticky fingers come in handy. We sneak in through the back, you work your magic, and bam! We're set for life."

I chewed my lip, considering. It was risky, sure, but the potential payoff... "Tell me more about this lucky charm."

"It's this old locket, right? It's on display right above the bar next to the first dollar bill they framed. They say it belonged to some big-shot singer back in the day. Whoever wears it, can't lose. At anything."

My mind raced with possibilities. With that kind of luck, I could pull off heists that would make Bonnie and Clyde look like amateurs. No more scraping by, no more close calls with the cops. I could finally give Grandma the life she deserved.

"Alright, Two-Tone. I'm in. But if this turns out to be some wild goose chase, you're buying me a month's worth of ice cream sundaes from Sal's."

Tommy's face lit up. "You won't regret this, Ruby. We're gonna be legends!"

As we plotted our grand entrance, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered a warning. This was bigger than our usual schemes. Riskier. But the thrill of the challenge, the promise of that golden ticket to a better life, drowned out any doubts.

"So," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Here's the plan."

* * *

Tommy nodded, his eyes wide with excitement. "What you got cookin', Ruby?"

I grinned, the beginnings of an idea taking shape. "So, the Blue Note's got a big performance coming up, right? Some hotshot trumpeter from New Orleans?"

"Yeah, Louis Armstrong's protégé or something. Place'll be packed."

"Perfect. Here's what we do: We go in as part of the cleaning crew."

Tommy's forehead wrinkled. "Cleaning crew? That's your big idea?"

I rolled my eyes. "Would you let me finish? We snag some uniforms, right? But here's the kicker – we're not just any cleaners. We're the world's most incompetent cleaning crew."

"I'm lost."

"Think about it. What's the best way to get noticed? Be so bad at your job that everyone's watching you. While they're all focused on the disaster we're creating, one of us slips away to find that locket."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "Oh, I get it! Like a magic trick. Misdirection!"

"Exactly. Plus, who's gonna suspect the idiots who can barely mop a floor of being master thieves?"

We spent the next hour plotting out the details. Tommy would be our fumbling janitor, knocking over mop buckets and 'accidentally' spraying patrons with cleaning solution. Meanwhile, I'd play the role of his exasperated supervisor, apologizing left and right while using the chaos to case the joint.

"But how do we get the uniforms?" Tommy asked.

I smirked. "Leave that to me. I know a guy who owes me a favor."

 ***

I adjusted my oversized uniform one last time, taking a deep breath as Tommy and I stood at the back entrance of the Blue Note. This was it. Showtime.

"Ready to make a mess, Two-Tone?"

Tommy nodded, his face a mix of excitement and nerves. "Let's do this."

We pushed through the door, carts laden with cleaning supplies. The kitchen staff barely glanced our way as we navigated through the bustling prep area. So far, so good.

As we burst into the main club, I put on my best harried supervisor face. "Tommy! How many times do I have to tell you? The mop goes in the bucket, not your pants!"

Tommy, bless him, played along perfectly. He stumbled, sending a spray of soapy water across the floor. "Sorry, boss! I'm trying!"

Heads turned. Perfect.

I stormed over to him, clipboard in hand. "Trying? You're about as useful as a screen door on a submarine! Now clean up this mess before-"

CRASH!

Tommy had 'accidentally' knocked over a tray of glasses. The sound echoed through the club, drawing even more attention.

"I'm so sorry!" I gushed to the nearest waiter. "He's new. Very new. Like, just-born-yesterday new."

The waiter rolled his eyes and hurried off to get a broom. Meanwhile, Tommy was making a spectacle of himself trying to mop up the water and glass with a feather duster.

I seized the opportunity to scan the room. 

Boom.

 There was a locket on a velvet neck mannequin right where Tommy said it would be.

* * *

I was ready to swipe the locket when a familiar face caught my eye.

No way. It couldn't be.

Leaning casually against the bar, twirling a cocktail stirrer between his fingers, was none other than Slick Rick. The last time I'd seen him, he was swiping wallets at the Harlem Street Fair while I was liberating some fancy watches from a jewelry stand.

Our eyes met, and his lips curled into that infuriating smirk I knew all too well. I noticed his gaze flick towards the bar. Towards the mannequin where I'd spotted the locket earlier.

Oh no. He was after the locket too.

Our eyes met, and in that split second, I knew we were thinking the same thing. We both lunged for the bar.

"Pixie Sticks!" I yelled. 

Rick and I reached the bar at the same time, shoving and elbowing each other as we scrambled for the shelf.

"Back off, Slick," I grunted, trying to push him away. "I saw it first."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law, darling," he retorted, fingers grazing the shelf.

"Since when do you care about laws?"

We grappled, a tangle of limbs and curses, each trying to get the upper hand. In our struggle, we knocked over a row of glasses. They shattered on the floor, adding to the cacophony of the club.

Just as my fingers closed around something cool and metallic, a booming voice cut through the chaos.

"FREEZE!"

 * * *

I froze, the locket clutched tightly in my fist. Slick Rick's hand was wrapped around mine, both of us caught like deer in headlights. We turned slowly to face the source of the commanding voice.

There stood the club's bouncer, a mountain of a man with arms thicker than my waist. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene - shattered glass, spilled drinks, and two very guilty-looking thieves.

"Well, ain't this cozy," Rick muttered under his breath.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up and let me think."

The bouncer took a step forward, his massive frame blocking out the light. "You two. Manager's office. Now."

I glanced at Rick, seeing the same spark of mischief in his eyes that I felt in my chest. Without a word, we both bolted in opposite directions.

"Tommy!" I yelled as I vaulted over a table. "Plan B!"

Tommy, bless his heart, didn't miss a beat. He grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and let loose, filling the air with white foam. Screams and chaos erupted as patrons scrambled to escape the unexpected shower.

I ducked and weaved through the panicked crowd, the locket still clutched in my hand. Just as I thought I was home free, a hand grabbed my collar, yanking me back.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," Rick grinned, trying to pry the locket from my grip.

I stomped on his foot, hard. "What part of 'don't call me sweetheart' didn't you understand?"

He yelped but didn't let go. We stumbled through the club, locked in our ridiculous tug-of-war, knocking over chairs and bumping into disgruntled patrons.

"You know," Rick panted as we wrestled, "we could always team up. Split the take fifty-fifty."

I snorted. "Yeah, right. Last time we partnered up, you left me holding the bag. Literally."

"Water under the bridge, darling. I've changed!"

"And I'm the Queen of England."

Our bickering was cut short as we crashed into a waiter, sending a tray of martinis flying. The drinks rained down on us, soaking us both in gin and vermouth.

"Great," I sputtered, wiping olive juice from my eyes. "Now I smell like my Uncle Louie after a three-day bender."

Rick, looking equally bedraggled, couldn't suppress a laugh. "You gotta admit, Ruby, we make quite a pair."

Before I could retort, the bouncer's voice boomed again. "There they are!"

We scrambled to our feet, slipping and sliding on the alcohol-slicked floor. In our haste, the locket flew from our grasp, arcing through the air like a glittering comet.

Time seemed to slow as we both lunged for it, colliding mid-air in a tangle of limbs. We hit the ground hard, and propelled by our momentum and the most watered-down booze in Harlem, we slid out the front door. 

 ***

I bounced up and took off running down the street with Rick right behind me. "You just gonna leave your partner?" Rick shouted as I ducked into a alley past a shoe shine stand. 

"Tommy can handle himself." He knew the Thief's #1 Rule - Look out for #1.

I listened for any signs of anyone from the Blue Note following, and hearing none, I caught my breath.

 The locket finally rested in my palm, warm from our frantic struggle. I gazed at it, expecting to feel that legendary rush of luck they always talked about. But as I studied the tarnished metal and faded etchings, a strange sense of familiarity washed over me.

"Wait a minute..." I murmured, turning it over in my hands. A tiny inscription on the back caught my eye, half-worn away by time.

To my dearest Ethel Mae...

My breath caught in my throat as realization struck. This wasn't just any old lucky trinket - it was my mama's locket. The one she always wore, right up until the day she...

Well, let's just say that day changed everything for me and leave it at that.

"You've got to be kidding me," Rick groaned, "Don't tell me you're getting all sentimental over a piece of junk jewelry."

I shot him a glare that could cut glass. He may be a slick-talking charmer, but that didn't give him the right to insult Mama's locket. 

"This 'piece of junk' was my mother's," I snapped, clutching it protectively to my chest. "It's all I have left of her."

For once, Rick seemed at a loss for words. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us as the weight of the situation settled in.

The locket, which had seemed like such a tantalizing prize, was now a stark reminder of everything I'd lost. My chest tightened as a wave of grief threatened to drown me right there in that dingy alley.

Get it together, Ruby, I scolded myself. The last thing I needed was to have a blubbering breakdown in front of Slick Rick, of all people.

I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back down. My gaze fell on the delicate chain, and a faint memory sparked in my mind...

Mama's gentle hands as she tucked me into bed, her warm voice murmuring, "This locket reminds me of you, my little Ruby. As long as I wear it close to my heart, we'll always be connected."

A sad smile tugged at my lips. All this time, I'd been chasing after some mystical idea of luck when the real treasure had been with me all along. Not a charm or a token - but a connection to the woman who gave me life and loved me more fiercely than anyone else in this world.

With a shaky breath, I slipped the chain over my head and let the locket settle against my chest, its familiar weight reassuring. It may be tarnished and imperfect, but it was mine. A piece of my history that could never be taken away.

"You know," Rick piped up again, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "If it means that much to you, maybe we should just call this one a wash."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding, right? After all that effort to get this stupid thing?"

He shrugged, offering me a lopsided grin. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty face and a hard-luck story."

Despite myself, I felt the corners of my mouth quirk up in a reluctant smile. Maybe there was a shred of decency in that scoundrel after all.