Page 93 of Dirty Chorus

“Reading into it?” I scoff and start laughing. I push the chair, and its legs screech across the floor as I fight with my charger and computer so it will fit in my bag. “This is such bullshit.” How can she be that blind? She's wearing my clothes, giggling like a damn sissy schoolgirl with the biggest doe eyes when she sees my brother.

“Why are you so uptight with me hanging out with Ryder? You’ve never cared this much before.”

“But you’ve never ditched me to hang out with him.”

Her jaw tightens. “You ditched me all summer to go be with your ex, who literally gave me hell that night when we played roulette.”

“I wasn’t seeing him. I broke up with him.”

“You're such a liar!”

I start laughing. This is amusing. “I’m a liar?” I press a hand against my chest. I zip up my bag as I grab it, it hits the chair, nearly toppling it over.

“You knew I didn’t want to play that stupid game. I knew what that hazing game entailed, and you dragged me right into it. You're supposed to be my best friend.” Payton holds out her arms and does that tantrum foot stomping, and her eyes are glistening. Great. Now she's going to cry.

“If you're honestly screwing my brother, lying to my face about it, and then treating me like the bad guy, then you’re mental.” My throat burns, and I taste the anger like metal on my tongue. “By the way, I got you coffee.” I point to the diluted masterpiece on the table before I storm out.

Chapter 43

Noah

Trouble: Hey what are you up to tonight?

Noah: It’s bingo night at the church. I’m taking Gramps. It’ll probably bore you.

Trouble: Oh, can I join?

I don’t respond.

Nobody hurts me better than myself. Insomnia declared war against me last night. I still haven’t told Charlie about the record deal. I’m still just soaking in every bit of time I have with her. But I know I need to slowly push away, and I don’t know how.

“Tonight is the night!” Gramps licks his lips as we enter the bingo hall, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’m gonna get that basket of dark chocolate.” He pulls out his lucky blue rabbit's foot from his pocket before kissing it.

“Take it easy, Bingo isn’t going anywhere.” He hurries across the floor to get to his seat.

After weeks of him not utilizing his oxygen tank I finally convinced him otherwise. We weren’t going to his bingo night unless he obliged, so he did. It was like having an argument with a five year old. He huffed and puffed, telling me I couldn’t force him to do anything. But the second bingo night was questioned, he caved in.

He uses his cane to shuffle across the floor to his seat next to Ms. Donna wearing her yellow floral dress. She’s got short curly white hair, and always brings homemade cookies. When those two sit next to each other, he’s always flirting up a storm and using his pick up lines. She’s already placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back as she kisses him on the cheek.

I grab his bingo cards and let the ladies know I already have one when they offer me a dauber. Yep, I scrolled through Amazon for the perfect hot-pink dauber. It says “shit” and I look forward to his expression as he marks his bingo card.

I sit on the hard plastic chair next to him while giving him his cards and dauber. Gramps is adjusting his reading glasses while studying his cards. The building is filled with the hint of old people's smell and stale coffee. Fairy lights string around the bingo hall, and the chatting fills the room.

Once the place is packed and the tables are filled up, the caller turns on the bingo blower and starts pulling up balls. Their voice booms over the loudspeaker, announcing numbers. Gramps’ dauber hovers across the cards, checking each number. When he finds one matching, he giggles with excitement and presses the stamper down. When he glances at it, he puckers his lips then looks at me with his glasses at the tip of his nose. “You little shit, where did you get this?” He looks at the pink tip.

“Merry Christmas,” I chuckle taking one of Ms. Donna’s cookies. I wave it up to her and she smiles with lipstick stuck to her front teeth.

“It’s summer...” Gramps blinks and snags a cookie as well, stuffing his face and getting crumbs between the creases of his lips.

“Christmas in July.”

“It’s August,” he replies dryly.

Another number is called and Gramps bounces in his seat while scanning each card, and I point it out as soon as I find it. The chair next to me scrapes against the floor and a fruity scent wafts by, filling my lungs. It’s so much better than the mothballs emanating from vintage handbags and sweaters. I turn as Charlie scoots in with several bingo cards and her own dauber. Her damp hair curls naturally as it dries, she isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, and I hear myself swallow my own heart.

“Hey Trouble, didn’t think you’d come.” I really didn’t, but I can see it in her eyes that she really wants to be around me.

“I didn’t want anyone hitting on you and stealing you from me so I thought I’d tag along.” She gives me the biggest, most infectious smile.