You Can Call Me Lucky

“You Can Call Me Lucky” first appeared in Indian Country Noir, edited by Liz “Bootsie” Martinez and Sarah Cortez, and published by Akashic Books as part of their Noir series. Bootsie is a good friend of mine, and I had a hard time saying no when she beseeched me for a story. I felt unqualified, having minimal acquaintance with American Indians and their habitat.

Then I thought of Indian casinos. And I remembered my nameless girlfriend, who’d thus far brightened Hell’s Kitchen and Riverdale with her presence. No reason why she had to stay in the five boroughs of New York. Suppose she turned up at an Indian casino in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula?

Her adventure up in the U.P. was consistent with her past performance, but somehow the story came out a good deal darker and kinkier. (“That’s a really nasty story,” Bootsie said, “and I mean that in a good way.”) She dons the name of Lucky for the occasion, but we still don’t know her real name. (We’ll find out in the next story, “Clean Slate,” even as we’ll find out why she does what she does.

The fellow she hooks up with here, who cannot believe his good fortune, is both a gambler and a collector of casino chips, and I owe that element to my cousin Peter Nathan, an avid collector of and dealer in such chips. Peter, I’m pleased to report, has never run into a real-life equivalent of Our Girl.

Not yet, anyway.

When “You Can Call Me Lucky” first appeared, it bore a different title, “Getting Lucky.” I’ve changed it lest it resonate unhappily with Getting Off, the title of the full-length book containing all of its heroine’s adventures. You can pick up that volume, or you can take the next step with Kit in “Clean Slate.”