“In a second,” Lo says, entertained, like me, on the poker game.
“Now would be best.” Connor’s voice pitches from its usual steady tone.
Lo sighs and slides out beneath me. “Catch me up when I come back?”
I nod, and he kisses me tenderly on the lips. As he retracts, he has that twinkle in his eye like more later.
Yes.
When he leaves, I prop myself on my knees to try and see the paper in the poker pile. “Read it out loud,” I tell Ryke.
“She’s tossing in her two Ducati Superbikes.” His eyebrow quirks. “I already have a motorcycle, Dais.”
“These are faster than your Honda.” Clearly they have talked “motorcycle” before if she knows what sits outside his apartment.
“Wait,” I interject. Ryke said her two superbikes. That means she already has them. “When did you get a motorcycle? And why would you buy two?”
“A client at a shoot bought them for set decoration, and he gave them to me.”
“He just gave them to you?”
Ryke fingers the piece of paper. “That’s what I said.”
“It was a thank you for doing a good job is all. It doesn’t happen often, but it did then. And now I have two motorcycles begging to be ridden. I’ve only taken the red one out on the road, so I put some miles on it.”
“You don’t have a motorcycle license yet,” he tells her flatly.
“Yeah, I know. But in order to get a license, I have to practice.”
He lets the paper go, and I see a sort of longing for those bikes in his gaze. They must be really nice. “You do realize that these are a lot more than my ring?”
“You don’t have to match me. I’m not trying to up the bid, but it’s really all I have that you could want.”
I glance at the rear of the plane. Lo’s back faces me, but he’s hunched over, his hand to his eyes. Something…something’s really wrong. What happened? Is it his father? I go to stand, but Connor meets my gaze and shakes his head, as though I should sit back down.
I do. He has some sort of power in his assuredness. It’s like Jedi mind control.
But I want to go comfort Lo. My chest hurts just watching the back of him. I bite my nails, catch myself and drop my hand.
“What the hell, let’s do it,” Ryke says.
I turn back to the poker game. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off something horrible. But I’m so antsy that I start scratching my arm. I catch myself doing that too.
“So the motorcycles are fair then?”
“Sure. Just don’t cry when I take them from you.”
She grins. “Okay. Let’s see your hand.”
He turns over two cards and compares them to the ones flipped on the table.
My attention is split between the game and Lo, and I don’t want to focus on him anymore. I’m about to go against Connor’s wishes and dart to the back of the plane. In order to stop myself, I switch the television channels to find a show that can preoccupy my mind.
“So you have two eights,” Daisy says, a smile to the words.
“You beat me, didn’t you?”
“Two jacks,” she says.
“You were dealt two fucking jacks?”
“You shuffled.”
He groans.
“You can have the ring back if you want.”
Boy Meets World? No. Sabrina the Teenage Witch? No. Soccer? Definitely not.
“No, you won it. It’s yours.”
“I’m going to feel weird if it’s a family heirloom or something.” She tries to shove the ring into his hand. He holds them up in the air.
“It’s from a jewelry store, and I was going to retire the thing anyway.”
“Why?”
“It’s ugly.”
“So, you gave me an ugly piece of jewelry.”
“It’s worth two thousand fucking dollars.”
She smiles wryly. “Oh yeah.”
Ryke crumples the paper with the Ducati arrangement on it. He lost those bikes, and there’s a bit of disappointment in his eyes from not being able to snatch one. I wonder if they’re rare.
“How about…” Daisy folds the cash and stuffs it in her wallet. “…I’ll let you keep the black Ducati if you teach me how to ride.”
Law & Order? No. X-Men cartoon? Possibly. I hover on this channel a little, watching Wolverine in his original yellow and blue spandex.
Ryke taps the pen to the table. “I’m not going to teach you how to kill yourself.”