“Dope shirt,” one of the bros finally said.“Duneis, like, epic.”
“Thanks,” I said.And then, because there’s this nerdy gremlin inside me that won’t shut up, I said, “I heard there’s a six-hour director’s cut version of the David Lynch version, and I swear to God, if I ever get my hands on it, Bobby won’t see me for a week.”
“For a month,” Bobby said drily.
Everyone started laughing—even me.
I was about to protest, but a scream interrupted me.We all looked over to see a sopping wet Millie chasing after Keme.The boy was grinning as he flew down the beach.
The sameDune-loving bro groaned.“Bobby, you’ve got to help him.”
“He’s got no game,” another of the guys complained—but in a way that suggested an older brother’s annoyance more than an actual dig at Keme.
“And you want Bobby to help him?”I asked.
“Hey!”But Bobby was grinning as his buddies cracked up again.
And just like that, it was okay.
3
“I don’t hunt,” I said.“I erase.”
Nobody looked over.
“Are you ready to accept a collect call from your worst decision ever?”
Bobby was checking his coveralls.Keme was fixing his eye protection.
“Playtime’s over,” I said.“Welcome to the nightmare.”I tried to give it some added oomph by swinging the stock of my gun up against my shoulder, but somehow, I only managed to dislodge the coveralls, and I had to squawk, “Bobby, help, my pants are falling off.”
It was hard to tell through my scrambling efforts to save my dignity, but I thought he sighed as he came over to me.
The paintball facility was busier than I’d expected—although I should have figured that, like everything else in the area, it’d be overrun with tourists.A range of families filled the gravel lot, and people of all ages appeared to be readying themselves for the next round (someone had said the wordselimination-style, and Keme’s eyes had glowed like the Terminator’s).Some of the paintballers, I could tell, were already way too serious.A group of middle-aged men, for example, who’d arrived in their own tactical gear, with their own paintball guns, and were looking at some of the other groups with a mixture of scorn and aggression.I was starting to wish I’d suggested laser tag instead, but a couple of weeks before, Keme had informed me that laser tag was for wusses.(Because, of course, Keme preferred the game where you could actually get hurt by, say, a ball of paint flying at two hundred miles an hour.)
“You just made the wrong enemy,” I said, but the delivery was undermined by the fact that I was trying not to commit indecent exposure.“Time to meet regret.”
“Why did we have to bring him?”Keme asked.
“Rude,” I said as Bobby fixed my coveralls.
“Because it was his idea,” Bobby said.“And he wanted you to have a great birthday.And he’s paying for it.”
“Can’t he wait with the moms?”
“First of all,” I said, “how dare you?And second—” I did another wicked move with the gun and said, “You used to have options.Now you only have me.”
Keme gave Bobby a withering look.
“In my defense,” Bobby said, “he’s a wonderful, sensitive, kind, and compassionate human being.And he’s extremely good-looking.”
“He’s a nerd.”
“I am not!”I said.“And I spent a lot of time coming up with my action-hero one-liners!”
Bobby bussed my cheek and said, “But he’smynerd.”Before I could protest, he tugged on the coveralls.“Come on, babe, we’re about to start.”
I liked thatbabea dangerous amount (and the kiss hadn’t hurt either), so—for the time being—I decided to let the nerd comment go as Bobby and Keme led the way to the staging area.
