None of them had believed him.
After several hours at the carnival, their smiles and laughter had finally returned to normal. Aberlour was filled with self-satisfaction that he’d made the right call. Did he know his team, or what?
“If I eat another thing, I’ll puke,” Carlos complained, one hand pressed against his abdomen.
“No one forced you to finish those fried Oreos,” Marcus laughed, not even a little sympathetic.
They all watched as Dave attempted to break the record of the high striker. He lifted the mallet, and then using all of his core strength, brought it down heavily. The ball went up, up, upppp, and then fell right back down. It wasn’t anywhere near the top, and they hooted and hollered at his failure.
“Nice try, Ghost!” Oliver was not entirely successful in suppressing his sarcastic smile.
“Fuck off! I’d like to see you try with your toothpick arms,” Ghost replied scornfully.
Oliver laughed, clamping a hand onto Ghost’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake.
“I wanted to win Sophie a teddy bear to keep her company while we’re deployed,” Ghost said quietly.
“Just buy one at Walmart,” JD advised him, rolling his eyes and stuffing his face with cotton candy, his fingers pink and sticky.
Ghost mumbled something in an undertone.
“What?” Carlos asked, looking around and trying to decide on his next ride.
“Not the same,” Ghost sighed in a defeated tone and shrugged half-heartedly.
“Then get Abe to win you one,” Marcus said, like that was obviously the solution to the problem.
“Pretty sure I’m stronger than Dumber,” JD stated confidently, flexing his biceps and smirking.
Oliver slapped the back of JD’s head lightly.
“He meant at darts, dumbass,” Oliver chastised with an accompanying eyeroll.
“Would you?” Ghost’s face lit up as he turned towards Abe with a hopeful, puppy dog look. He was the perfect example of an introvert. It was rare to see him display any outward emotion, which made it especially remarkable that he was practically bouncing up and down in anticipation of Aberlour fixing his teddy bear problem.
Aberlour smiled, cocky and boastful.
“’Course, Ghost. I’ll win your kiddo a teddy bear.”
Plan in place, they began walking towards the aisles containing all the game booths, Carlos occasionally oohing and ahhing at the different rides they could go on afterwards. Apparently, his stomach wasn’t bothering him anymore.
“You there, lad! You look as if you’d be a good shot. Wanna take on Betsy?” An old man called out to Carlos. He was sitting on the edge of his booth, his smile reminded Aberlour of a clown, but he wore jeans and a t-shirt. The only odd thing about him—besides his clown-like smile—was his red top hat.
“Not me, but my friend will try,” Carlos said, stepping aside and pushing Abe forward.
“You got what it takes?” The man challenged Aberlour, in the practiced manner of a circus barker.
“We’ll see, I guess,” Abe replied, doing his best not to sound too confident.
“Alright then, take these seven darts, step back behind the blue line, and shoot the balloons. If five pop, you get one of the smaller prizes. For the big boys, eight balloons.”
“Eight? He’s only got seven darts,” Carlos exclaimed.
“Them’s the rules, boys. Hardest shot in the park, cheapest one too,” he said, holding out his hands in a gesture of weighing options.
Abe handed over the ten-dollar fee, grabbed the darts, and stepped behind the blue line painted on the dusty ground. His men backed away to make sure he had a clear line of sight.The balloons—yellow, red, blue, and green—were old. They were no longer filled to bursting, but rather slightly deflated from baking under the sun all day. It made the trick shot harder. If the rubber wasn’t stretched, it wasn’t as likely to pop. But that didn’t matter to Aberlour.
“Careful not to step over the line, or that dart is no good,” the man warned.
