“It was my grandpa’s favorite. Order whatever you want.”
He slides a menu across the table as I tilt my head and ask with a smirk, “Is that an order?”
“It’ll be the first of many if you keep sassing me.”
Something about the way he says it makes me want to challenge him. But I decide against it for my own sanity.
Once I scan over the menu, I order a hamburger steak with mashed potatoes and smothered green beans and a Barq’s root beer. Luca never glanced at the menu but gives his order for a shrimp po-boy with fries and a sweet tea.
“Come here often?” I tease.
“Yes.”
Man of many words, as usual. The waitress returns with our drinks, places them on the table then walks away while Luca remains quiet.
“So, your grandfather loved this place?” I haven’t even tasted the food yet, but I get it.
“He did.”
“I can’t imagine your dad liking this vibe. Has he always been so unpleasant?” That’s as nicely as I can put it.
Luca replies, “As long as I can remember.” He looks like he’s hesitating but continues on. “They didn’t get along at all. My father swears that Granddad changed after my uncle died.”
“Oh,” I say a little surprised at him revealing something so personal. “I’m sure losing a child would change a person.” Like losing a parent does.
“Dad always thought that my grandfather blamed him for it.”
I shouldn’t ask. “Was he responsible?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Luca says. “He died playing Mercy.”
“What?” I gasp. “You’re playing a game that killed your uncle.”
“Like I said, I needed to win so Micah couldn’t.”
I’m unable to fathom the level of hatred that would make him participate in a game that killed his family member. “You and Micah should really go to therapy. The level of animosity you two have for each other”—I point at his face and circle my finger around, indicating the scrapes and bruises that still cover it—“it’s not normal or healthy.”
The waitress places our plates on the table, then tells us to let her know if we need anything else. We eat in silence. And I don’t mind; the food is delicious. It tastes like home-cooked perfection. Don’t get me wrong, our chef is wonderful. But there’s something about this meal that hits different.
I take another bite, closing my eyes for a few seconds. When I open them, Luca is staring at me. “That good, huh?”
“Yep. I absolutely understand why it was your granddad’s favorite.” I cautiously ask, “What exactly happened to your uncle?”
“Don’t know. All we know is he died while playing.”
“Did your dad win?”
Luca seems irritable as he replies, “No. But that’s all I know about him playing. None of the past players ever speak about the game. All the rules, challenges, and strategies are kept very hidden.”
“This round is bullshit. All of them are actually, but this one is for sure,” I complain as he keeps eating until I ask, “What are you going to do if you don’t win?”
“It’s not an option.”
“In reality, it’s a possibility.”
“I either win or die trying. There’s no middle ground. If Micah does, I’m dead anyway.”
“He won’t kill you. Not really, right?” Fighting at the Tomb is one thing, but could they murder the other?
