This time, Zoe outsmarts me. She was always way better at this game than I was. And no, there’s no way I want to let her win. She pulls paper again, and I choose rock, just because I thought she’d think that I was going for paper again and choose scissors. In this game, scissors beat paper, and paper beats rock.
Zoe lets out an exclamation of surprise, but her game face doesn’t crack. She’s concentrating hard. She really wants this, wants to get away from me. That’s why she showed up tonight. I’m not sure why she dislikes me so much. No, it might even border on hate. I’ve never done anything to her. Maybe I really am a shithead because I do think about the fact that maybe that’s exactly why she detests me, but I dismiss it just as quickly.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” I count again.
Zoe pulls out rock while I pull out scissors.
Damn it. Now I’m down two nothing. Shit is getting serious.
I count again, ready to face defeat. I’m already trying to force myself to think two steps ahead and come up with a game plan for when it happens, but it’s hard, given my head is starting to swim from the whisky. I don’t drink the hard stuff. Ever. I never had a taste for it, which is why there are currently thirty-seven unopened bottles in my wine cellar downstairs. Gifts from clients. All of them.
I have no choice but to count again. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
This time she chooses paper, and I choose scissors. I let out a grunt of triumph while Zoe’s nostrils flare in annoyance. She hates losing, especially to me. She might be the only person on earth who could rival me for a competitive streak.
I count again, and I go for paper since she probably thinks I’m going to choose scissors again. She goes for rock, so now we’re tied.
Zoe squirms nervously on the couch. She has that look of total concentration, which hasn’t changed over the years.
I count one last time, and when our hands make the signs, I can’t believe it. She chose scissors, and I chose rock. I actually won!
“You cheated!” Zoe yells. She leaps off the couch, her eyes blazing fire, one finger pointed roughly in my face. “You…you…”
That’s as far as she gets before the lights flicker once, twice, and plunge us into total darkness.CHAPTER 6ZoeNo one beats me at rock, paper, scissors. No. One. I am literally the rock, paper, scissors queen. And Raiden never beat me once. Okay, rarely. It’s only rarely, but now, when it really counted, this asshosoris rex just took me down.
It turns out divine retribution or karma or just bad universal energy or whatever it is out there is swift and just because the whole house plunges into immediate darkness.
I don’t know much about Raiden anymore, but I do know he has always had this irrational and crippling fear of the dark.
I can tell that, in about one point eight seconds flat, the asshosoris rex starts having a meltdown. He used to do this when we were kids, and I seriously thought he would have grown out of it as an adult, but I recognize the heavy breathing. I can practically hear his nostrils opening and closing as they flare wildly, the sucking sound of indrawn breath filling up the room.
I’d think Raiden was playing me if his fear didn’t have an almost acrid smell to it. It’s real, and it’s vulnerable.
I could use it to my advantage, but I’ve never been the seedy, mega-asshole type of person. Instead of pressing Raiden’s buttons or just up and telling him I quit and leaving him to the darkness and the rest of his overcompensating life, I bend forward, dig in my purse, and grab my phone. One quick swipe across the screen and I have my phone’s flashlight up and running.
When I sweep the beam of light over Raiden’s annoyingly perfect face, he relaxes visibly, and his nostrils stop flaring. His breathing hitches a little but then goes back to normal. His shoulders deflate as all the tension seeps out. There’s this evil part of me that makes me think I might indeed have some lurking assholeness hidden away somewhere, which makes me want to comment on the fact that Raiden is a grown, thirty-two-year-old man, and the dark shouldn’t be so scary in his own house, but thankfully, the good parts of me win out. I’m not someone who likes to make fun of other people’s insecurities, and not just because it’s rude or because I wouldn’t like it if someone did it to me. I just think it would seriously be a dick move, and dick moves aren’t cool.
At this point, I barely think dicks are cool. The anatomy, I mean. Hmm, on second thought, maybe Raiden’s dick might be cool. Okay, STOP. Not going there.