Mind Games

by T. K. Leigh

  “I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Did you?”

  “I don’t think it was a fuse,” Lincoln interrupts, joining Chloe by the window.

  Everyone looks in his direction, following his line of sight. After watching the sunrise with Asher last night, I’m more than aware of what the view out that window should be. Instead of seeing the bright lights of the Vegas Strip, there’s nothing, the only lights that of cars meandering along the streets. Everything else is barren. Deserted. Empty.

  “Like I said,” Lincoln continues as we all congregate around him, staring at a scene that’s reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic horror film, minus the zombies feeding on human brains. “I don’t think it was a fuse.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Okay, so what are the rules here?” Chloe asks after we’ve all settled back outside.

  With no power, it was the most logical place to congregate, considering we have the fire pit to offer us heat and light. It’s another reminder of my few summers at Grams’ lake house. While there was electricity, that’s where the amenities ended. No cable. No internet. No cell service. Our only form of communication with the outside world was a landline Grams put in for emergencies. I’d often hated returning to civilization, wanting to go back to how simple things were at the lake. Jessie seemed to careen down the narrow roads at breakneck speed to get back to the point where our cell service would kick in.

  “I’ve never played the board game version of this.” Her expression instantly brightens. “There’s one. Never have I ever played the board game version of Never Have I Ever! Do I get a point or something? Or maybe I just win game night outright and we can stop this torture?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re having fun and you know it.”

  She bites her lower lip, looking from me to Lincoln. “Maybe.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I catch Asher’s eyes as he sits beside me. There’s a hint of amusement and curiosity in them while he observes me in silence. An artist studying his subject, unearthing every crevice, every valley, every subtle imperfection in order to paint her with painstaking detail. I wonder if that’s what he’s doing. If he’s writing a song in his head. He has that look about him. Excitement. Concentration. Inspiration. I like the idea of being Asher’s inspiration. His muse. The Marianne Faithful to his Mick Jagger. A much younger and more attractive Mick Jagger.

  “So… The rules?” Chloe’s voice cuts through.

  I snap my attention back to her, ignoring the smirk drawn on her face. “It’s pretty straightforward. You roll this die.” I pick it up, showing it to everyone. “On each side is a symbol that corresponds to a category on the cards.” I grab one from the stack to demonstrate. “Whatever you roll is what you have to say. So if I roll this male and female symbol, which is the sex and dating category, I have to say ‘Never have I ever ditched a date after the first ten minutes.’ If I haven’t, I move my game piece forward. If I have, I take a drink. The first person to cross the finish line wins.”

  “Have you played this before?” she inquires.

  “I didn’t even know they’d made a board game out of it until I saw it in the game room.”

  “Then how did you know how to play?”

  I grab the rule sheet out of the box and wave it in front of her. “I read the directions. Not exactly rocket science.” I pass her a sardonic smile, then return my attention to our assembled group. “Okay. Who’s first?”

  “Since this was your lame idea, you should go first,” Chloe suggests with playful arrogance.

  Passing her a smug grin, I say, “Never have I ever ditched my date after the first ten minutes.” I grab my beer and take a sip, indicating I have, in fact, done just that.

  “You need to roll and pick a new card,” Chloe insists.

  “After you tell me all about the poor schmuck you ditched,” Asher chimes in.

  “Why? So you can tell me I should have given him a bit longer?”

  “No.” His gaze remains locked on me as he slowly shakes his head. “So I know what not to do.” He clears his throat as he nervously glances around our little circle. “You know. Research. For a song maybe.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?” His lips quirk up into a mischievous grin. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the sparkle in his dark eyes as they look upon me with wanton affection.

  “Stop cheating and roll,” Chloe admonishes.

  “Fine.” I grab the die and toss it onto the table. It lands on a symbol of the earth, which means the subject could be anything. Taking a card off the top of the pile, I read the corresponding phrase. “Never have I ever gone streaking.” Rolling my eyes, I grab a red game piece and move it forward a square. “Well, that’s an easy one because it’s never happened. Who’s next?”

  “I’ll go,” Asher pipes up, reaching for the die.

  Chloe whistles when it lands on the symbol for sex and dating. “I have a feeling this is going to get interesting fast.”

  “You and me both,” I mutter.

  Asher chuckles when he reads the phrase off the card. “Never have I ever kissed a celebrity. Yeah. Definitely haven’t done that.” He takes his green game piece and pushes it forward a spot.

  “You mean you haven’t gotten in on some of the orgies Fallen Grace is rumored to host?” Chloe jokes.

  He looks up at her, brows scrunched. “Is that really a rumor?”

  “Fallen Grace fans aren’t our target audience, but I keep a finger on all celebrity gossip. Rumor is two of the guys are gay and in a relationship with each other.”

  “Do I want to ask which two?” He leans back, brushing his thumb against his bottom lip, which makes me salivate, remembering how he’d caressed my lip like that.

  Chloe squints, trying to pull some names out of her memory. I have no idea how she keeps all these celebrities straight. How she remembers who’s dating whom, who’s in whatever band, who’s starring in whatever movie. Then again, she says the same thing about my line of work, amazed at how much I do as a nurse.

  “I think Mason and Ellis.”

  Asher chokes on his beer, coughing a few times. “Mason and Ellis?” he grinds out, clearing his throat. “Did you seriously say Mason and Ellis are rumored to be gay and into each other?”

  “Again, this isn’t my area of expertise, so—”

  Asher chuckles. “They are not gay.” His laughter grows, his face reddening, tears dotting the corners of his eyes. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard him laugh like this. “Actually, none of the guys are, but Mason and Ellis? They’re so far from being gay, they’re not even in the same hemisphere.” He draws in a deep breath to get his laughter under control. “Not that being gay’s a bad thing. In my opinion, love is love, no matter who it’s between. Well, within reason. Those child brides being forced to marry some sixty-year-old dude is disconcerting, but that’s beside the point. Trust me. With the number of women Mason and Ellis bring back here, you’d think they were considering starting their own brothel.”

  “So no wedding bells between them in the future?” Chloe presses.

  “Certainly not. Now, who’s next?” He looks around the circle.

  “I think Chloe should go,” I offer.

  “This ought to be good,” Lincoln interjects, having remained silent during the rest of our exchange.

  His aloof attitude reminds me of Asher. They both have a mysteriousness about them. An analytical way they observe the world around them, carefully selecting their words before saying anything.

  It’s a stark contrast to most men I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of dating. Men who felt the need to impress me with so much bravado, constantly talking themselves up, not once asking me a single question. I didn’t think it bothered me. I don’t like talking about myself, especially considering the normal questions most people ask on a date — What do you like to do? What’s your family like? How many brothers and sisters? The instant I tell someone I’m adopted, things change. There�
�s a look of sympathy on their faces. I hate that.

  The next few hours pass in a mixture of laughter, increasing sexual tension, and consumption of more beers than we should, but what choice do we have? The power is out, so those beers will only go bad. We’re simply doing our civic duty of saving the beers from meeting an unfortunate demise.

  At first, I was unsure how everyone would react to this game. To my surprise, it’s gone over well, so much so that even when Lincoln is the first to cross the finish line, we continue, throwing the die and going around the circle, drinking if we’ve done whatever is on the card. We’ve even reverted to some of the original rules from when we played in college, requiring others to drink if they’ve done whatever was said, even if it’s not their turn.

  Once our laughter dies down after Lincoln told everyone how his ex cockblocked him by using her cat to curse him, I look at the coffee table, frowning. “We’re out of cards.”

  I hate the idea of our game ending. While there’s still some tension between Asher and me, the constant push and pull has evaporated. Like he’s decided to just let go, allow the night to take us where it’s meant to. We’ve returned to the way things have always been. Easy conversation. Laughing at ridiculous stories. Not wanting the night to end. Of course, the things we’ve talked about have been much more personal, but that’s the nature of the game. And something I was hoping for anyway.

  “Maybe it’s time we go off-script,” Chloe suggests. I whip my eyes toward her, a single brow cocked. “We stopped with the board game part of this a while back.” She gestures at the discarded board. “Maybe it’s time to make things more interesting and ask different kinds of questions.”

  “What kinds of questions did you have in mind?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Something deeper. A little more…personal.”

  “Therapist personal or sexy personal?”

  “Therapist personal.” She holds her head high, then shifts her eyes to Lincoln before adding, “And sexy personal.”

  In a heartbeat, a charge is sparked. It’s no longer an easygoing, albeit slightly risqué game among friends, both old and new. We don’t have to share our thoughts with one another to know we’re all thinking the same thing — this has the possibility to change everything.

  “I’m okay with that,” Asher states. “We’re all adults. Not much makes me uncomfortable.” His demeanor is calm, maybe even a little intrigued. He’s not pulling away like I thought he would.

  “We are all adults, aren’t we?” I muse.

  “What’s going through that brain of yours?” Chloe asks, able to sense the wheels spinning in my head.

  I look into the distance where the skyline of Las Vegas should be illuminated, but it’s not, the entire world shrouding us in relative darkness, as if we’re in a bubble where the events of tonight won’t matter when the lights come back on. Where we can give in to our deepest desires with no consequences.

  I grab a flashlight off the table and proceed into the house without saying a single word. Chloe wants to take our game to the next level. Well, we still need a pair of dice.

  Making my way to my room, I open the bachelorette goody bag Bernadette put together, which contained mostly inappropriate items, including a vibrator. Apparently marrying the guy who knocked you up in college doesn’t always equal sexual satisfaction, as was evident by her constant flirting with anything with a pulse. I toss butt plugs, eye masks, and body paint into my suitcase, finally finding what I’m looking for. Wrapping my fingers around them, I hurry down the stairs and return to the patio, three sets of expectant eyes meeting mine.

  “What’s going on?” Chloe asks.

  “Like Asher said…” I hold my head high, despite the small ball of doubt forming in my stomach at the possibility no one will want to go along with this. But if we can’t throw caution to the wind, can’t take a risk during a blackout in Sin City, when can we? “We’re all adults, correct?”

  “Yes…,” everyone answers, their voices laced with curiosity.

  “I’m declaring a circle of trust…a bubble, so to speak.” I wave my arms in a circle, drawing an invisible dome around us. “I submit for your consideration a new take on Never Have I Ever.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what this new take is.” Asher’s voice is playful as he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest.

  “You probably don’t, considering it’s how I met your brother…” The second I see his face blanch, I regret saying that. We hadn’t brought up Jessie all evening. It’s been as if there never was a Jessie. Regardless, I continue, recovering quickly. “But circle of trust.” I waver on my legs, thanks to all the beers I consumed throughout the afternoon and evening.

  When I’m met with more blank stares, I explain the rules. “We’ll go around in a circle, saying something we’ve never done. If someone says they’ve never done something and you have, you drink. The changed rules apply to the person speaking. For example, if I say ‘Never have I ever shot Abraham Lincoln’, obviously no one here will drink. In that case, we go to the penalty round.”

  I extend my hand, revealing a pair of dice. But they’re not your traditional dice. Considering our goody bags were filled with nothing but sex toys, these dice are sexy, too, one die containing an action, the other a body part.

  Chloe looks at the dice in my hands. “How do we know whose thigh we have to bite?”

  I swipe my nearly empty beer off the table, finishing it. “That’s what this is for. Whoever the bottle lands on is the lucky, or perhaps unlucky, winner…”

  “I am not biting Asher’s thigh,” Lincoln bellows, his voice deep.

  “And I am not…” Asher grabs the dice and rolls them, “sucking his finger.”

  With an over-exaggerated sigh, I fall back onto the couch beside Asher. “Men. This game is much more fun with only girls. They don’t care about this shit. We have no problem licking each other’s tongues.”

  Asher and Lincoln simultaneously dart their wide eyes to mine, their bodies growing rigid at the mention of two women kissing. Just as I suspected would happen. Boys will always be boys.

  “But fine,” I continue, doing my best not to pay attention to Asher as he adjusts his shorts. “How about this? Everyone gets one free pass. Of course, just say something you know at least one other person sitting here has already done and you won’t have to worry about spinning the bottle. Unless you want to…” I retrieve the dice and roll them, “blow on someone’s neck.” Lifting my bottle, I glance around our circle expectantly. “Are you all in?”

  “Blackout Club,” Chloe mutters.

  “What?” I tilt my head.

  “The first rule of Blackout Club…”

  “You don’t talk about Blackout Club,” the guys finish in unison, and the lightbulb goes off over my head. Every guy knows a Fight Club reference when they hear one. They’d probably get their man card revoked if they didn’t.

  “Exactly.” Chloe floats her eyes back to mine, raising her own beer. “Like you said, this is a bubble. We’re all consenting adults… Single consenting adults. I’m in.”

  “Me, too.” When Asher lifts his bottle, I exhale a tiny breath. I wouldn’t have put money on him agreeing to this. I just worry when the see-saw he’s riding hits the ground, it will be with so much force and velocity everything will come crumbling down.

  We shift our attention to Lincoln. He raises his beer and we all clink bottles, sealing the deal. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “What are you doing? Contemplating the meaning of life?” Lincoln quips as Asher stares into the distance, brows scrunched in deep concentration.

  The evening took a curious turn once we started playing our own version of Never Have I Ever. While there’s no rule we say something personal or risqué, it didn’t matter. It was assumed we’d go in that direction. Add in all the alcohol we’ve consumed, and it’s become increasingly difficult to think of things we’re certain someone else has done. M
y only saving grace has been the fact that Chloe and I are childhood friends. We have an advantage over everyone else. Correction… I have an advantage over everyone else, considering I also know Asher pretty well.

  “I’m thinking,” he answers. “Everything I come up with has been said.”

  “At the rate you’re going, my buzz will be gone by the time you finally say something,” I joke, taking another sip of my beer. “Hell, I may even have gray hair by then.”

  “I thought you already did,” Chloe jabs. “Pretty sure I saw one the other day when I was helping you curl your hair. You are less than a year away from turning thirty.”

  “Oh, hush. It was merely sun-kissed.” I wink.

  “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

  “Damn straight it is.”

  Our laugher echoes in the stillness of the night as we turn our attention back to Asher, who’s tapping a finger against his bottom lip.

  “Okay, that’s it.” I grab the dice and shove them at him. “New rule. If you fail to say anything in the time allotted…say, a minute…it’s an automatic roll of the dice and spin of the bottle. So let ‘em roll, Ash.”

  “That’s not fair.” He glances toward Lincoln. “Isn’t it unconstitutional or illegal for laws to be applied retroactively?”

  “Generally speaking, yes.”

  “See.” He smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest, an air of superiority about him. “So that rule doesn’t apply to me.”

  “Although, due to the grievous nature of your offense, I’d be inclined to agree with Izzy in this instance,” Lincoln continues.

  I smile at him. “Thank you. I knew there was something I liked about you.”

  “You bet.”

  “Traitor,” Asher quips.

  “Can you blame me?” Lincoln shoots back. “You’re messing with the flow of the game. And like Izzy pointed out…” He lifts his beer. “I’m also losing my buzz. There should be some sort of punishment for that.”