Page 37
I sift through Booker’s words. “Are you saying that you’ve never treated him?”
“Correct. I’ve treated everyone in Wilde’s End except for him. Trust issues, poor thing, would prefer to bleed out than rely on anyone else.” Booker reaches for the machete so suddenly, I barely get my hand over it in time. I jerk away from him, gripping the handle, wondering if I’m in some kind of danger, but he only sweeps amused eyes over me.
“That’s not yours,” I tell him.
“It’s not yours either, little snake, but please go on pretending it is. I have the feeling it’s going to be very entertaining for us all.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not here for your entertainment. We had a deal. You’re going to teach me whatever basics I’ll need to keep this place going while you’re away, and then you’re going to trade yourself for a mechanic to get me out of here.”
With a laugh, Booker bops me on the nose. “Your recollection needs work. The deal was that we spend time together becoming best friends while you learn the ropes, and then if I’m compelled through the power of friendship to do such a monumental favor for you, it will happen.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“That’s exactly what I said. Now, shall we start or shall we argue, because I will genuinely have fun no matter what you decide.” He tucks his hands behind his back, placid smile waiting for my answer.
The stubborn side of me is all fight, but how do you win against a man who doesn’t make sense half the time? Who’s a self-confessed liar? I don’t trust him to keep up his side of the deal, no matter how close our friendship becomes, so if we’re doing this, I want a guarantee.
“You said you wanted to find another game to play,” I remind him. “So let’s do it.”
The bland smile spreads wide. “Now you have my interest. Shall we go bouldering without a harness? Capture a mountain lion? Steal another of Lynx’s babies?”
“Nothing that violent.”
“Sadly, I’m no longer listening.”
Yeah, we’ll see about that. I pull myself up to sit on the bed and then strip off my shirt and lift my arm. Running from my armpit down to the middle of my ribs is a dark pink scar. “I tripped in the garden and impaled myself on a hoe.”
Booker goes on staring at the scar. “I wish I’d known you then.”
It takes too long to realize what he means by that. I shake the thought away and drop my arm. “Now you guess if that’s real or a lie, then you give me something.”
“Something like what?”
“A piece of information about you.”
Booker chuckles, but he no longer looks bored. “Don’t ask, remember?”
“Neither of us is asking. I’m giving up something, then so are you. No questions to be had. Just friends getting to know each other. If you get it wrong, you lose.”
“You do know I’ll lie to you the entire time? It’s my specialty.”
“Then it’ll make the game very easy for me.” I lift my arm again. “True or false?”
Booker reaches out to stroke the scar. “False. Too thin for a hoe, too recent for a trip. Oh no. How terrible. You have me curious now.” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Will you tell me if I’m correct?”
“Maybe.” I pull my shirt back on, and Booker tugs his hand away.
“No need,” he says. “I know I’m right.”
“You are.”
“And you won’t tell me what really happened, will you?”
“What happened to don’t ask?”
Booker looks absolutely delighted as he paces to the other side of the room. “What a fun little game. Very well, let’s play. I have none of my own teeth.”
He snaps them at me like he’s proving a point, but they’re gone too fast for me to get a proper look. The number of follow-up questions I have for that is … many. And since I can’t ask, I have to assume that something that random can only be true. Even though he lies. “True.”
