CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Late Saturday afternoon, the four of us arrive at the atypical restaurant. On the outside, it’s an unassuming brick building, and on the inside, it doesn’t look like much.

But when the server shows us into the main area, the room brightens. Tall bookcases are crammed with hundreds of board and card games.

Surprisingly, it’s only half-full, and I assume we came at exactly the right time. The four of us order non-alcoholic drinks, and Jarel and Angelo peruse the games to find something that everyone can enjoy.

“How does it feel to be on summer break?” I ask Matt.

“I miss my students for sure, but it is nice to be able to get up whenever I want and go to bed as late as I want. A lot of my coworkers sell fireworks in the summer as a second job, and I considered that. But man, being able to sleep late? That’s worth way more than money.”

“I thought you were a morning person.”

“Psh. Only because I have to be. I would be eternally grateful to the powers that be if school started three hours later. Kids would be happier too I think.”

I glance at Jarel and Angelo, who are pointing at various games. “You don’t care what we play?”

“I’m here for you,” he says. “But I should tell you that I take my games seriously. I’ve never intentionally let someone else win–other than Julie when she was little.”

I lower my voice. “So, you’re saying my power doesn’t work here?”

“Mmm,” he groans. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“So, you’ll be okay with me obliterating you.”

“Totally.”

I laugh and elbow him. “Bring it.”

When the guys return, I roll my eyes. “Trivial Pursuit? Are you kidding me? There are hundreds of games here, and you chose Trivial Pursuit?”

“Yeah,” Angelo says, “but it’s the original. There’s a distinct possibility that we’ll know practically none of the answers.”

Matt raises his eyebrows. “You chose something intentionally frustrating?”

“We have a better idea for how to play,” Jarel says, setting the box on the table. “All questions are open to everyone. If Matt gets a ‘Sports and Leisure’ card, Angelo could still answer. No offense, Matt. If Angelo gets a ‘Science and Nature’ card, Matt could answer. No offense, Angelo. Whoever answers the question earns the piece.”

“So… you’ve turned it into a game of chance more than knowledge,” I say.

Jarel shrugs. “Something like that.”

“Yeah, all right. Could be fun.”

“I’ll try anything once,” Matt says.

Angelo and Jarel look pleased with themselves that they persuaded us, and Jarel begins to set up the board.

“Are you three past the stage of infatuation where you let me win?” I ask.

They look shocked, then laugh.

“Shameless,” Angelo teases, shaking his head.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” I ask.

“You know you wouldn’t want our pity anyway,” Jarel says.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees. “If we let you win, we’d never hear the end of it.”

I resist the temptation to shoot Matt a knowing look.

I take one of the pies from the box. “Compared to all the modern themed games, this one looks ancient.”

“Ancient things need love too,” Jarel says.

Angelo rolls his eyes. “Says the guy who had a crush on Dr. Amin.”

“I did not have a crush,” Jarel protests.

“Uh huh,” Angelo says. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I just thought he looked good for his age.”

“That’s what crushes say too,” Matt quips.

“Who was this guy?” I ask.

“First semester of his freshman year,” Angelo starts, “Jarel was in his Intro to Psych class, and there was a guest lecturer who worked in one of the psychiatric hospitals. Dude was sixty or something, and Jarel dropped his jaw at how gorgeous the guy was.”

“Okay,” Jarel says, “it wasn’t anything like that. The guy was probably in his forties, but had the whole silver fox thing going on and was still ridiculously jacked. It wasn’t a crush, it was–”

“Envy?” I ask.

Jarel smirks at me.

“Wait,” Matt says. “Dr. Amin? Dr. Malik Amin?”

“Sounds right,” Angelo says.

“Dude,” Matt chuckles, “he’s friends with my dad. When you were nineteen, he would have been… not forty.”

“Fifty?” Jarel asks.

“Sure,” Matt says. “Let’s go with that.”

Jarel puts his head on the table and groans. Angelo pats his shoulder and laughs.

“I get it,” I say. “Look at Clooney. The silver fox look works for some guys.”

Angelo touches Jarel’s bald head. “If only you had hair.”

Jarel swats at him as he sits up. “That’s enough out of you.”

I love watching the three of them banter. I’m not sure if they even know that’s what they’re doing, but the gentle teasing has led to actual moments of kindness, and I continue to imagine them cooking together in our spacious kitchen.

“Well, it’s good to know what Jarel’s type is,” Matt quips.

“Matt, with your long, thick hair, you better be careful in thirty years,” Angelo says.

Matt rakes his fingers through his hair. “You really think I got another thirty years? I’m thinking ten at the most.”

I feel a sudden, inexplicable uneasiness. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the air.

I look around the room, but nothing is out of place.

“Besides, bald doesn’t really do it for me,” Matt says.

Matt is the closest to the back door. If any of us could leave, it would be him.

“Oh! Did you hear that?” Angelo asks Jarel. “You’re not good enough for Matt. Even with all those muscles!”

I feel the adrenaline flood me, prepare me.

“Well, it doesn’t bother Val,” Jarel says. “I guess we know her type.”

What does my body know that I don’t? What did my eyes see that hasn’t actually registered into my consciousness?

Angelo points at each of them. “Does Val have a type?”

They all find this funny, and I try to laugh at the joke, hoping I’m masking the panic.

Am I really being paranoid? Have I just gotten too used to living in shadows?

And then I see him.

He’s wearing a black hoodie with black slacks. The hood is pulled over his baseball cap. shielding his eyes. Both of his hands are in the large pocket in the front of his hoodie.

In this summer heat, I know his hands aren’t cold. They’re holding a weapon.

He walks quickly, and when he lifts his head, his green eyes glare at me.

Sometimes the universe does decide–to be cruel.

I grab Matt’s arm and point toward the back door. My voice drops two octaves, and it's rough, jagged when it escapes my throat. “Call the police and tell them there’s a gunman in the restaurant. You’re the only one who can get out in time.”

The guys stare at me with wide eyes.

“Wh–what?” Matt stutters.

“Go now,” I tell him. “Right fucking now.”

Matt sprints out the back door.

I stand and walk around the table. He’s here for me. There’s no point in putting anyone else in his crosshairs.

“When you see an opportunity,” I tell Jarel and Angelo, “you leave through the back door too.”

“No fucking way,” Jarel says as they both stand. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as the front door opens. “I love you guys.”

Maybe they’ll be at my funeral after all.