by Meika Usher
“It’s an exact replica of the puppet from my favorite episode of Angel!”
“Wait, that’s what that is?” Ben frowned. “I just thought you had a weird thing for puppets. I’ve always been a little worried you’d ask me to...do stuff with it.”
“Oh, my god!” Sunny groaned, pushing to her feet. “I kind of hope Birdie stabs you.”
“It was one time!” Birdie stood and threw her hands into the air. “You stab a dude one time and you never live it down. Whatever happened to forgive and forget and all that shit?”
“Does not apply to stabbing,” Ben replied sagely. “Stabbing is the one exception.”
Birdie narrowed her eyes on Ben’s face and Jude stepped between them. “Seriously, Birdie. Pockets.”
“Fine,” she growled, digging through the pockets of her skintight jeans. “But you better give me every little thing back when this is over.”
As she said it, she dropped her phone, three coins, and a pocketknife into Jude’s waiting palm. Jude lifted the knife and raised a brow in question. Birdie shrugged. “I walk home late a lot.”
“Okay.” Ben rubbed his hands together and grinned, looking all kinds of cocky. Then again, Ben always looked cocky. Maybe that was where I kept going wrong. After all, before he got with Sunny, Ben used to be popular with the ladies.
Popular with the ladies? my brain repeated. It’s a good thing no one can hear your thoughts. Dweeb.
I ignored the shit head that lived in my brain and leaned forward, grabbing a beer.
“Now that she’s unarmed,” Ben finished. “Let’s do this.”
Beside me, the two newcomers leaned forward, transfixed. Next to them, Cat leaned her elbows on her knees, chin in hand, eyes alight with excitement. She really was a bloodthirsty little thing.
Sunny cleared the snacks and beers from the coffee table and centered it neatly between Birdie and Ben. And then she took a step back. “Okay. Basic rules here, you two. No cheating, no heckling, no whining when you lose.” At that, her eyes landed on Ben, who looked like he was about to protest, but thought better of it. “And, for the love of Rowena, do not stab each other.”
“It was—“
“One time. We know,” Sunny cut Birdie off. “But still. Rules are rules for a reason.”
“I kinda wish you’d let her keep the pocket knife,” Cat whispered to Jude as Ben started shuffling the deck of cards. “This could’ve been epic.”
“You are lucky you’re hot,” Jude whispered back. “Otherwise, I’d be terrified of you.”
Cat’s best friend snorted. “You should be terrified of her anyway.”
“Oh, there are moments,” Jude replied, slipping his arm around Cat’s waist so she wouldn’t take offense. She snuggled closer and rested her head against his shoulder.
At the sight of their coziness, there was a twinge inside my chest. I pulled my eyes from them to watch as Ben doled out cards. Nothing like a grown man slinging Uno cards like his life depended on it to kill any unwelcome twinges that showed up.
The sheer focus on Ben’s face was impressive. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so focused. Across from him, Birdie was stone-faced. Her blue eyes narrowed on the cards in her hand, meticulously arranging them by number or color or whatever her preferred method was.
I had not been around for The Great Uno Stabbing. That was before my time with the Olivers. But, taking in the focus on Birdie’s face, the intensity, I could fully envision it. Ten-year-old Birdie shanking Ben with a pencil. I bet it was glorious.
Around me, people started to pick sides. Cat settled in next to Birdie, Jude stayed on Ben’s side. Jack and his wife also split up, he on Birdie’s side, she on Ben’s. Sunny, obviously, settled in next to Ben. I chose Birdie, mostly because if there was stabbing involved, I wanted to be on the giving end, rather than the receiving. But also because, well, she was prettier.
“Okay,” Sunny said once everyone was settled. “Let’s do this.” And then she flipped over the first card.
What followed was the quietest game of Uno I’d ever witnessed. No one spoke. Not a damn word. Draw Twos and Skips flew about like aggressive pigeons dive-bombing a pile of French fries. Occasionally, Birdie or Ben would growl or swear or sigh, but otherwise...silence.
To their left, Sunny was decreed scorekeeper. She meticulously wrote down numbers and added them up after each round. And, let me tell you, it was neck-and-neck. For someone who was notoriously bad at Uno, Birdie was holding her own.
We were down to the wire. Four-hundred-and-twenty to four-hundred-and-twenty-two. Birdie’s deal. She slung the cards like a Vegas dealer, her game face on. Ben’s face was the most serious I’d ever seen it as he scooped them up.
“This is it,” he said, staring intently at the cards in his hand. “For the win.”
“Better get ready to cry,” Birdie retorted as she picked up her own cards. “I wanna bathe in your tears.”
“That’s hardcore,” Cat whispered, leaning in closer.
I moved just behind Birdie’s seat and watched as she arranged her cards. First by color, then number. A Draw Four was tucked neatly at the front of the line.
“Oh, you’ll be bathing in tears, all right,” Ben shot back, leaning forward. “Your own tears.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I watched as Ben laid down his first card, followed swiftly by Birdie’s Draw Two. The fuck word slipped from Ben’s lips as he drew his cards. Birdie slapped down another Draw Two. Another swear from Ben. But then Ben hit a streak. Two Reverses, a Skip, and a Wild.
“Green,” he said—a little more aggressively than was maybe required. “If I win this,” he said suddenly, eyes landing on Sunny. “You gotta marry me.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, but he silenced it. “I’m serious.”
Putting his cards face down on the table, he turned to Sunny. “I’ve been thinking it for a while.”
“And you think a hate-game of Uno with my kid sister is the best time to propose?” Sunny replied, brows lifted.
“Well, yeah.” He shifted in his seat until he was facing Sunny. “You made me win a round of Kill Radius before you’d agree to be with me. I figured...this was fitting.”
At that, Sunny laughed. “You were so bad at Kill Radius. It took you seven tries.” Then, she gestured to the game-in-progress on the table. “You’re hinging your proposal on a game of Uno against my sister, who sucks at Uno.”
“Hey!” Birdie said.
“Sorry,” Sunny replied with a shrug. “You do.”
“I’m doing pretty well right now.” She pointed at the score sheet. “Ben is one round from getting his ass kicked.”
“Which is my point,” Ben said. “This isn’t an easy victory. I’m gonna have to earn it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Sunny’s ear. “Like I had to earn you.”
A chorus of aww’s came from Cat and Tierney—and maybe a mini-aww from me. Maybe.
Sunny narrowed her eyes on Ben’s face. “You’re serious.”
“As serious as Rowena in issue five when she had to throw her partner off the roof after he’d been bitten.”
A Zombitch reference. I let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty serious.”
Sunny looked at me, eyes wide. “I know.”
“So what do you say, Sunshine?” Ben took her hand, bringing her attention back to him. “I kick your little sister’s ass and you marry me.”
Was it just me, or were there tears in Sunny’s eyes? Only time I’d ever seen tears in Sunny’s eyes was last week when she’d dropped the last slice of a particularly good pizza on the floor. And even then, she picked it up and ate it anyway. Three second rule and whatnot.
“I...uh...okay,” she stammered.
“Okay?” Ben repeated, surprise settling over his face.
She nodded. “Okay.” Then, she looked at Birdie. “But don’t you dare take it easy on him.”
Birdie snorted. “Please. When have I ever?”
Ben turne
d back toward the table and picked his cards up, focus renewed. “The last round,” he said, staring hard at his opponent. “Let’s go.”
The silence was palpable as they slapped down card after card. They moved so fast, I wasn’t sure who was ahead. At one point, Ben stacked three Draw Twos on top of each other, resulting in an impressive string of profanity from Birdie. But she rebounded with her own combination of Skips and Reverses and Draw Twos. She held on to the Draw Four, though. I watched as her fingers hovered over it once, twice, three times, before she chose to draw instead.
Across from her, Ben was down to one card. “Uno!” he yelled, and everyone leaned forward, holding their breath.
Birdie had it. She had the win right in the palm of her hand. All she had to do was play that Draw Four and call blue. She had it.
She fingered the edge of the card and studied Ben, then Sunny. Both were leaned in close, eyes wide, tense.
And then...she reached for the draw pile.
I frowned. What—
“Yes!” Ben exclaimed, throwing down his final card. “Yes!” He shot up from his seat and turned to Sunny. “You know what that means, Sunshine.” And then he dropped to his knee and took her hand. “Will you marry me?”
“Do you even have a ring?” Birdie asked, her voice dry as she meticulously gathered up all the cards, her remaining hand lost in the deck. “Because if you don’t have a ring—“
“I have a ring.” Ben dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a tiny blue box. “Of course I have a ring.”
“You do?” Sunny looked from Ben to Jude to Birdie to me. I shrugged and smiled.
“I told you,” Ben said as he opened the box. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
“I...oh.” Sunny blinked—and there were definitely tears this time—and extended her hand.
“That’s a yes, then?” Ben took her hand and hesitated before putting the ring on her finger. “You’re saying yes?”
“Of course I’m saying yes.” Sunny rolled her eyes. “Dumbass.”
Laughter, mixed with sniffles, filled the room. Then, cheers as Ben slipped the ring on Sunny’s finger and she threw herself into his arms.
“It’s about time you made an honest man of him,” Jude said to Sunny when they parted.
“You’re one to talk,” Sunny shot back, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her Kill Radius sweatshirt. “You two have been engaged for, what? Two years? Three? Are you ever gonna, you know, get married?”
Cat shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But this isn’t about me.” She threw her arm around Sunny. “Are you thinking a spring wedding? I’m thinking a spring wedding.”
The next half hour was a rush of hugs and tears and celebratory toasts. And, I had to admit, I was a part of at least two of those things. What could I say? My best friend just got engaged. Of course there were tears.
All game night activities were forgotten. Cat and Tierney surrounded Sunny, talking all things wedding. The guys migrated into the kitchen where snacks and beer flowed free. Scanning the place with my eyes, I found Birdie hovering on the edge of the girl talk, not really willing to engage. I veered her way.
“You’re taking the loss pretty well,” I said when I reached her.
She turned, her blue eyes landing on my face. “Yeah, well. Hard to be a sore loser when your sister just got engaged.”
“True.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “It was a nice thing you did, though.”
“What? Not stabbing Ben?” She shook her bangs out of her eyes. “Couldn’t really stab the guy after he proposed to my sister. That would’ve put a damper on the celebration.”
“I mean, throwing the game. That was nice of you.”
At her blank look, I elaborated. “You had a Draw Four. The win was yours.”
Another blank look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, deadpan. “And if you mention it to a single soul, I’ll stab you with a pencil.”
I smiled—probably not the reaction she was going for—and said, “Duly noted.”
We stood there silently then, watching the rest of the room go about their business. After a couple minutes, Birdie tilted her chin up, meeting my eye. “I’ve had my fill of wholesome, good fun. You wanna get up to no good with me?”
And, in that moment, surrounded by happy couples being happy, I wanted nothing more than an escape. “Absolutely. Yes.”
My adamant reply must’ve amused Birdie, because her lips twisted in a sort-of smile. Then, she looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the exit. “It’s been fun and all,” she called to the rest of the room, grabbing our coats as we passed the chair. “But Nate and I are coupled out. Later!”
The door shut with a thunk behind us, leaving Birdie and I alone in the hallway, one thought echoing in my brain: Now what?
8: Birdie
Now what?
I pulled on my hot pink pea coat as I studied Nate from beneath my lashes. I’d basically abducted him from my sister’s apartment. I mean, he agreed to the abduction, but still.
Now what?
“So, uh.” Nate buttoned his coat and glanced at me. “Thanks for springing me.”
I laughed as I pulled my hair from beneath my coat. “Thanks for keeping quiet about that Draw Four.” My heeled boots clicked dully on the carpet as I headed toward the elevator. “Would’ve really killed the moment.”
Nate followed. “Not to mention, you’d have probably stab—“
I whirled to face him and he stopped abruptly. “It was one time,” I said, a finger poking his chest.
He put both hands up in surrender, a laugh spilling from him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
I wanted to be annoyed, but the combination of that laugh and the grin that came along with it diffused any annoyance I tried to muster. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” I said, turning so he couldn’t see my smile. “Let’s get out of here.”
It was going to snow. I glanced up at the black sky as we hit the sidewalk. The air was brisk. The kind of cold that zaps right into your bones.
My favorite.
I closed my eyes and breathed deep. My lungs tingled. I smiled.
“You’re a freak.”
Opening one eye, I looked at Nate. “That’s not nice.”
“But it’s true,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You look positively orgasmic right now. And it’s freezing.”
Opening both eyes, I looked at him. “Are you one of those weirdos that likes summer? Because, ew.”
“Summer’s all right.” He pulled his coat tighter around his body. “I like fall best, though.”
“Ahh. Pre-winter.” I nodded and started up the walk. He followed. “It’s not the worst. But it only exists so that we can have winter.”
“I repeat,” Nate said, falling into step beside me. “Freak.”
“Just for that, I’m gonna make you buy me a drink.” I took a left and resisted the urge to take another greedy, frigid breath. “Actually, make that two.”
“That’s fair.” Then, “As long as our destination is nearby. Otherwise, I’m going to freeze to death.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pansy,” I said as I yanked open the door to Heathcliff’s. “Get in there.”
I followed behind him and stopped to let my eyes adjust to the new level of darkness. “I’ll be at the table in the corner,” I told Nate, urging him toward the bar. “I’ll take a Happy Mike,” I told him, naming a local craft brew.
“You got it,” he said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. His Galaxy Crash wallet. Vaughn, the bartender, was going to have fun with that.
I smiled to myself and headed for the table. Heathcliff’s was pretty dead tonight. Then again, it really only got crowded on Friday nights, when local bands took over the rickety stage in the corner. That was why I liked it. Well, that and the cheap beer.
Oh, and they paid me to work here sometimes.
I was still pretty lo
w on the tattooer totem pole, so my income had to be supplemented somehow. Beer-slinging at Heathcliff’s to the rescue.
Nate crossed the floor and leaned against the bar. Vaughn, the burly, tattooed bartender, greeted him with his usual surliness. Nate, undeterred, placed our order. I watched as he eased right into conversation with the dude like they’d known each other for years and didn’t just meet thirty seconds ago.
How did he do that? It was a gift, man.
A couple minutes later, after soul-bonding with the bartender, Nate plopped a frosty, frothy mug down in front of me and took the empty seat across from me. “Did you know that Vaughn—that’s the bartender’s name—is a big fan of Galaxy Crash?” He took a swig of his own beer and grinned. “He collects the action figures. Told him to stop by my shop sometime to check out my inventory.”
“You shitting me?” I sat back in my seat and studied Vaughn from across the bar. Vaughn, with his sleeveless t-shirt—even in the almost-snow—and full sleeve of scary, badass tats. “Vaughn?”
Nate nodded. “Vaughn.”
“Huh.” Shaking my head, I dragged my gaze back to Nate. “You think you know a guy.”
“He doesn’t fit your idea of nerd, does he?” Challenge glinted in his eyes. “What with the tattoos and the muscles.”
“Well, duh.” I cradled my mug between my hands. “I think nerd, and I picture—“
“Me.” Nate gestured toward himself with a wry smile. “It’s okay. You can say it.”
I took him in, from his glasses to his Avengers t-shirt. Basic stats put him firmly in the nerd category, sure. But the way his smile took his face from unassuming to utterly disarming...
I blinked. Hard.
“Well, I mean, you’re a little nerdy...”
He laughed then, and I wanted to blame the alcohol for the way my blood warmed, but I’d only had a single sip. Well, a single sip, plus whatever I’d had at Sunny’s place. One beer? Two?
“A little nerdy?” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I own a comic book store. I write a comic book. I spent last weekend at a convention, surrounded by cosplayers and the like. But I’m a little nerdy?”
