“I love the obnoxious purring. Helps eliminate the awkward silence!” he really did have to speak up to be heard over the sound, especially when I was accelerating. “We’re gonna be concert deaf by the time we get there!” we had a similar sense of humor. Nothing needed to be taken all that serious.
“It’s not that bad!” I claimed.
“Not that bad? If this thing bursts into flames, and we die chugging down the highway going 50, I’m gonna be so pissed.”
“So where are we going?” I asked.
“I would tell you. But I couldn’t hear your question over the engine.” he pointed to his ear, and I mashed the pedal which only made the sound worse.
“Seriously!”
“Island Fun-Tattah.” he said.
“What is that?” I asked, unfamiliar. He only smiled.
“Straight for another three miles, then get off at exit 11.”
The building was large and not far from the exit.
“What is it?” I asked. Cage remained silent, and we found a spot to park. There were few other cars in the lot. “Not a lot of people here.” I said. Cage stepped out of the car first, and I dropped my keys into the handbag and turned on the recorder. It was time to see what Cage Edwards was made of. When I stepped out of the car, he was waiting for me.
“Here.” Cage said, and covered my eyes with a stretchy lace blindfold that he pulled from his pocket.
“Really?” I asked. The place looked like a movie theater, or a restaurant. Maybe a combination of both. I wouldn’t know for sure until we were inside and he let me see.
“Give me your hand.” our fingers laced, and he held my waist with his other arm to keep me walking straight. I wondered if the move was more about getting his hands on me or maintaining the surprise. Not that I cared the answer. “There aren’t a lot of people here because it’s only us and the staff. I rented the place out. It wouldn’t be any fun if I were taking pictures, and bro fiving with middle aged men all night.” we made it to the entrance.
“Welcome!” I heard the delighted greeting of someone on staff when we stepped inside. “Welcome to Island Fun-Tattah!”
Cage chose that moment to whisk the blindfold off of my head, unmasking the big surprise. A grownup arcade, complete with cheesy employees who wore name tags on their lays.
“Here are your unlimited game passes! Drink cards, and last but not least, a friendly Island Fun-Tattah reminder to hang loose, and go all out!” the middle aged manager with the shiny forehead handed us the goods, fully committed to what he did.
“Thank you.” I said. We accepted the lanyards and stepped away from mister overenthusiastic, and into the large game room. The carpet was an ugly maroon, and the lights flashed like in a casino. No one else was there.
“I pick three games, and you pick four. Every game is worth one point. First to four wins. Got it?” Cage asked.
“Gotta make it about competition from the first moment huh? Typical fighter, all about yourself.” I poked him, as I planned on doing for the entirety of the night.
“Like you don’t do the same?”
“Nope!” I declared, claiming innocence. Cage stepped close, and grabbed hold of my handbag.
“So I didn’t see you turn on a recorder and drop it into this bag in the parking lot?” he asked, holding firm. I smiled.
“Okay. I pick the first game. Basketball.” I said, speaking with confidence as if I thought I had a chance at beating him in the challenge. If I could even win one event, it might be shooting at the little basketball hoops in the cages. I played in high school and hadn’t been bad.
“Cool. You think my tall ass isn’t good at basketball?” he asked, giving me a light nudge. We began moving in the direction of the basketball games. “Actually I suck. I wrestled in high school, and could never make anything when I shot around in gym. I could dunk though.”
We stood side by side on adjacent machines, and swiped our game passes. The mini orange basketballs were released, and rolled down the ramp and into our grasp. Dinging from the machine signified that the game was live.
“Wait!” I screamed, and stole one of his balls.
“Won’t even matter.” he said, and began to take his shots. The machines ran for sixty seconds while you shot as many times as possible, and counted up your total score. The problem with my having played in high school is that it was also the last time I had played. My first couple of shots weren’t even close, and one of them hit the top of the cage and ricocheted back in my face.
“Ahh!” I screamed.
“Oh my God. A turd.” he said. I heard the clinking sound go off on his machine, signifying that he had made a shot. Then another. I hadn’t made one after five attempts.
“Fuck you!” I yelled, oddly invested. The blood began to coarse hard through my veins, and I tried to block him out and focus. Clink. I made one. At least I wouldn’t have zero. I shot again and missed.
“I’m destroying you!” he said. I looked over at his machine to see that his score was eight to my two. His shot clanked off the rim. I turned my focus back over to my lane, thirty seconds left to go. I tried shooting the little ball with one hand and tossed up an air-ball. There were plenty more balls in front of me to try.
I began chucking them up as quickly as possible, without thinking. The sound was my only indication because I wasn’t even watching them all the way. I was already onto the next one. Clink, clink, clink. Cage looked over at me.
“No!” he yelled, sensing a momentum shift. He tried to copy my strategy. I made two more, and saw that nine seconds remained. He was making nothing, and I was up by a score of twelve to ten. Neither of us talked any trash during the final seconds, too focused on winning. There were a few more clinks, and when the dust settled with a loud buzzer, your girl was the victor! Sixteen to fourteen.
“One to zero. You can pick the next game after you get me a drink bitch.” I said, arms crossed with hero swagger. I have to admit, winning felt good. Cage ate it up, and clapped his hands.
“Right on! But this game is only getting started.” he said. “What did you want? Victory shot?”
“Yeah. Vodka. Plus a rum and coke.”
He only had to motion to get attention. There was a full staff, and they were waiting on two people. After the drink orders, attention shifted to the next event in our battle.
“Skee.” he said.
“Skeeball?”
Before getting around to that, there was a shot. Mine went down smooth, chased by coked out rum. Cage had a double for himself, matching his two beers. I was feeling mine by the time we swiped our passes for a classic game of Skeeball.
“No one beats me in Skeeball.” he said, taking his first roll.
“I thought you could dunk a basketball too though.” I said, joining in. Again our scores were kept digitally, and we adopted a back and forth style of rolling.
“I couldn't dunk on that machine.” he said.
“Damn right.” I got one to go in the little hole on the top right corner, the one worth all the points.
“Shit. Time to get serious.” he rolled his sleeves up over his elbows, displaying the ink on both sides. He rolled again.
Back and forth. Drinking, talking, rolling skee.
The scores remained close throughout. He made more medium shots, and I made a couple big ones. 43000 to 45000 was the score, I was winning. Two balls left. “You go first this time.” he said.
“Fine.” I took a roll, 5000! One of the medium holes that I had missed throughout the game. Cage was sweating, dropping down into an athletic stance, and taking practice motions.
“What's wrong? Don't remember how to Skee?” I asked. I’d never witnessed someone take a game of Skeeball so serious. When he was actually rolling a ball, he didn't react at all to my taunts. All business, like his title may well have been on the line.
“Yes!” he pumped his fist when he matched my 5000. “Woo!” he clapped his hands together, and took consecutive victory gulps.
>
“Awh. What happened to letting a girl win?” I asked, backing up on him. Our lanes were side by side, and I was sticking with what I knew worked.
“That happens later.” he growled into my ear, letting his fingers have a healthy dig into my behind. One ball left for each of us. I had to smack his hand away in order to get a fair shot at mine.
“Watch and learn!” I said, faking it until I hopefully made it.
“Skee ball pro right here everybody! Watch and learn from the skee ball pro!” Cage yelled, drawing the attention of staff and pointing down at me while clapping his hands. I held the ball at my side and glared. “There. Let's see how you handle pressure.” he stepped away, and started a rhythmic clap over his head.
“This is why I don't date younger men.” Multiple Island Fun-Tattah workers joined in, keeping a perfect beat. Smack, Smack,Smack! I took hold of the wood grain Skee Ball, and stared up at the two big corner pockets. 10,000 each. Deep breath, don't roll it too soft. Knowing that I was being watched sped things up, put me into a bubble that made me uncomfortable. I threw it too hard, and ended up getting the lowest score of 2,000. The only letdown was with myself, none of the employees were close enough to see what had happened.
“That's why guys like me make the big bucks.” he said, slapping my ass when I walked away. I didn't care. He was growing on me, and I could only relax around him. The nagging little worry about this or that work related detail finally relented when I was hanging out with Cage, I noticed only the moment. The opposite of wondering if someone is listening to you, like total immersion in a movie. I sipped happily through my straw, and took my turn checking out his ass. His arm swung back and forward, and the ball rolled steady down the track. This was it. The ball ramped into the air, momentarily suspended in a reality where every possibility existed, spinning.
Ding! Winner. Player one. Cage hit the five thousand mark one more time, and tipped the score in his favor on the last ball. He took a bow, and approached me with beer in hand. One of his had already been emptied.
“The young bull proves himself a worthy foe.” he held up his glass for a toast.
“The female is only mildly impressed. Lucky for the young bull, there are no other competing males in the environment.” My glass found the air alongside his dark brown bottle.
“A choice made most deliberately, as it is often the smartest bull who wins the lady.” he tipped his glass, clinking it to mine. I conceded a smile, and a drink to the victor of round two. We would head into the third event tied.
Cage was proving to be a real charmer. My attempts to hide my awed stares were failing. He was smart, funny, charming, and so damn cute. Looking at him made me smile. I felt like the star of my own movie, having a date in a building rent out for the occasion. Did I mention his good looks? Any of my friends who saw me with him would be jealous, the thought of which made him even cuter. “The next event is all yours. Let me know.”
Looking around was overwhelming. Most of the games weren't the classics like Skee Ball, or basketball. They were new and confusing to me. I was looking for games with guns, and games I had played before.
“Wait a minute. What are we playing for?” I asked. The topic hadn't been brought up when he mentioned the rules, but I knew him just well enough. Cage did his evil overlord impression, laughing maniacally, and tapping the tips of his fingers together.
“The stakes. I thought you would never ask. Muah ha ha!” he bellowed, a ball of energy who exuded himself. Nothing about him was forced or without feeling. He was there with me, I could see it in his eyes. “We are both adults here. My dick for your vagina. This is how it works. If I win, my dick gets your vagina. If you win, your vagina gets my dick. What do you think?” I could tell the alcohol was starting to affect him, but there was nothing in him but sweetness. Hard to explain when you can sense that someone is good all the way through, it's something in the eyes.
“I've had better offers from a pawn shop.” I said. “You know what I want Cage.” I said, took him by the collar and stepped in close.
“What's that?” he asked. I bit my lip, and batted my eyelashes.
“Your...” I paused, and grabbed hold of him by the testicles. “Interview.” I let go and turned away. “Can I get a Bud?” I asked the waiter who was leaning against a fake tree and texting. Cage was hot on my tail, and again grabbed my ass.
“You might get me instead. If I give you the interview, I won't see you anymore. If I give you the dick, I'll never get rid of you.”
“And which one of those do you prefer?” I asked, lost in our playful world.
“Don't act like I haven't been clear with my intentions Angela.”
“Spell em out one more time for me. If you would.”
“We are out on a date, after our sparring date, and after our club melee date.”
“The club melee date! Hah!” I barked, appreciating and scoffing the title simultaneously.
“I have told you I am trying to get to know you for the purpose of dating you. I'm not playing games. I feel like you are really skeptical of me.” he said. I had to respond.
“I am and I'm not. I'm playing the game from my angle, and I know you are too. Be patient young grasshopper.” I felt like I had dropped a bomb line in a rap battle. “So what are we playing for?” I asked.
“Ma am.” the waiter set my bottle down on top of a napkin.
“Two more of those please.” Cage said.
“Might wanna stay sober if you plan on beating me.” I said, taking the first sip of my beer. People say not to mix liquor and beer, but it had always worked out fine for me.
“When I win, you come back to my place.” he said, under the assumption that rephrasing what he wanted may make me accept his terms.
“When I win.” I said, pausing. “You leave me alone forever?” I asked.
“It’s gotta be something you want. Hmm, I got it. If you win, I’ll fix your car. Nah fuck that, you win I will buy you a new one.” he was a little rambunctious, but they were stakes I could agree on.
“Someone get this man another beer!” I said. We shook hands
“I'm that sure you are going down.” he said, eyes red.
If he won, I had to go back to his place. A great excuse for something I was already trying to justify, and if he won I would get my car fixed. Cage had money beyond my wildest dreams, and my muffler could use a fixing, but there was no way I would let someone buy me a car on a first date, by his count third.
The next game up was air hockey, and it sort of crushed my dream of getting my car fixed. Cage and his competitive glory was on full display. The little puck moved so fast I couldn’t keep track of it, and before long the game was out of reach.
“Look up here big boy.” I said, leaning forward and trying to tempt his eyes toward my cleavage. It was good for a goal, but the score remained lopsided. Another point for Cage.
Pinball was next up, his choice. I started giggling for no reason at all watching him play, and the optimist in me noticed my bottle was still half full. You need to keep at least a handful of inhibitions around a guy like Cage, unless you wanna end up pinned to a dirty wall in the bathroom being fucked into oblivion. I set the bottle down, and clapped when I saw the shiny silver pinball go slipping beyond the reach of the bumpers. He didn't seem particularly good at pinball.
“Yes!” I was not only cheering for his demise, but for the repair of my car. His score was over a million by the time he finished. I wasn’t sure if that was good.
“Bend over Angela. That’s the key. Gotta really get a good bend.” Cage was standing off to the side, tactically oriented to obtain the ideal vantage point. I indulged him a little, before turning my focus over to the simple game of pinball. One million was the score to beat. The flashing lights on the front of the Turbo Copper themed machine highlighted my inebriation. I wasn’t quite drunk, but the lights were distracting.
I pulled the spring loaded launcher button, and sent the silver ball of destiny int
o motion. I was playing for my car. There were only two buttons I had to man, one on either side of the machine controlling one half of the bumpers. Cage danced at the edge of my peripherals, pantomiming in depth sexual scenarios to try and pull me. It was impossible not to peek, but I kept the ball going.
“You are such an idiot!” my body shook with laughter but I kept my eye on the ball, flipping the bumpers each time it came near.
“What's your score?” he asked, breaking character to check when he heard the sound. “Fuck, five hundred thousand already?” I landed in a bonus hole before I ever hit the ball, and the bells and whistles of a twenty five year old pinball machine were letting us know it. “You're so lucky!”
I was laughing but managed to keep the ball in play, every connection with the bumper was important because I knew I was running on luck more than skill. My streak could be lost at any second, and with pinball the end can come fast.
“What's my score?” I asked, finding my zone.
“I'm not telling.”
“Tell me!” I screamed back, unwilling to look away.
“725.”
“Haven't even lost a ball yet.” I said, and of course lost a ball seconds later. My score was at 734,000, and I had two remaining.
“Don't choke.” he said. “Lot of pressure.” he offered me my beer.
“Cage. Tonight you lose the title.” the beer was getting warm, but I had a drink anyway. Ball number two. Without realizing it, I had adopted the bent over posture that Cage had encouraged. The second ball found no bonus hole, and it wasn't as easy to score points otherwise. I felt unstoppable, like I was dominating the game, only to look up and see my score barely over 850,000. My peek at the scoreboard was enough time for me to lose another ball.
“Yes! This is it, if you blow this, I take a commanding lead.” he was a twenty three year old man child. The appearance of a man with the spirit of a kid lost at play.
Scrapper: MMA Badboy Romance Page 8
