“No need to remind me. I’ve found out firsthand.”
“Dirty girl, get your mind out of the gutter.”
She scoffs between another bite of her hot dog. “You are the last person who should be lecturing anyone about the gutter!”
She’s got a point there. One I don’t bother arguing.
We toss our trash in the nearby bins and then head off to play some carnival games. The kind where you blast water guns at targets and shoot hoops to win prizes like a giant stuffed panda.
I stop at the game where you toss baseballs at milk bottles and pull a twenty from my wallet.
“FYI, these games are scams,” she mutters from beside me. “The bottles are weighted. Almost nobody ever wins.”
“Watch me.”
The first throw goes wide, bouncing off the back wall without touching a single bottle.
Jhene snickers. “Great, Killer!”
“No wisecracks from the peanut gallery!” I grumble moodily. I wind up for the second pitch, concentrating hard on the milk bottles.
It goes better than the first, clipping the edge of one but not knocking anything down. The third actually hits dead center but the bottles barely wobble, confirming Jhene’s theory that they’re weighted.
I crack my neck and roll my shoulders, settling into the stance I use in the ring. If these carnies think they can cheat Killian Rourke out of a fucking stuffed bear, they’ve got another thing coming.
It takes six tries and more cash than I’d like to admit, but I finally figure out the trick—hit them low, right at the base, with maximum force.
The bottle goes flying, and the guy behind the counter shows us the selection of prizes.
I look over at Jhene with a brow cocked. “Well, stray? This was all for you. What prize do you want?”
She opts, perplexingly enough, for the tiny fuzzy bird on a keychain.Notfor the lava lamp or the panda.
“What?” she says defensively. “It reminds me of Eva. Plus, it’s a keychain, so I can always carry it around with me.”
Her explanation’s endearing. Another reminder that Jhene might seem antisocial or aloof in passing, but once you get to know her, you realize she’s got many more layers.
I sling my arm around her and keep her pinned to my side as we stroll past more of the games. We’re at ease wandering around, the smell of popcorn and saltwater taffy in the air.
The sun’s out and shining bright and the place is crowded (but in a good way). It truly does feel like a break from reality.
“This was a good idea,” I admit. “Coming here.”
“I know.” She smirks up at me, eyes shining behind her glasses. “I’m full of good ideas.”
“Let’s not push it.”
We’re walking some more when I hear a buzzing noise. I slow up and glance around trying to place the sound.
“You hear that?”
“Hear what?” she says, then she’s sliding out from under me and grabbing my hand. “Hey, I have an idea. For some privacy.”
I’ve got no clue what the hell she’s talking about ’til she pulls me toward an out of order photo booth far along the boardwalk.
“What are you doing?”
“I just told you,” she answers mysteriously. A grin teases the corner of her lips as she yanks back the photo booth’s curtain and shoves me inside. “Getting us some privacy.”
