Page 57 of Whimper Wonderland
“Snowflake!” Ophelia shouts. “Snowflake! I said it first! I love this game!” She glances around at all of us. “What are you all doing sitting here? Go, go! Hunt for a snowflake!”
At her cue, we scatter like cockroaches at the first hint of light. Dove jumps off my lap with a force that momentarily winds me. Chairs scrape across the floor as everyone scatters around the bar to find the hidden ornament.
The bar is awash in shiny tinsel, dangling decorations, and a hodgepodge of multicolored lights. Every nook and cranny seems stuffed by something the owners picked up from the nearest Dollar Tree. The Hideaway it turns out is, in fact, a good hiding spot.
Dove darts towards the bar. She starts looking underneath the bar top to see if anything’s been taped underneath, I imagine. She fondles the empty stools.
Clever girl.
She twists around and narrows her eyes at me. “Are you following me?”
“I’m afraid if we split up, one of us might die.”
Dove turns to hide it, but a smile creeps up her lips.
Her hard-earned smiles are, by far, my favorite.
“Just so you know,” she warns me, “Ophelia is, like, highly competitive. Ugly competitive. Will-shank-her-grandmother-to-win-checkers competitive.” She ducks underneath another stool, causing the patron next to her to give her a peculiar glare. “So you’re not far off. If you find the snowflake first, she might actually beat youto death with her shoe.”
I lace my fingers together behind my back. “So I shouldn’t mention the giant snowflake on the top shelf?”
Dove whips her head towards the bar. I watch as her eyes fall on it—there, top shelf, right in the center, are a pair of skis crisscrossed together. Sitting in front of them, a large ornament about the size of my head, with a glittering snowflake in the center of it.
“Dorian!” She smacks my chest playfully. I’ve unlocked a new kink: the light in Dove’s eyes when she’s won a game. “How did you find that so quickly?”
“I played a lot of I Spy growing up…I was a very lonely child.”
She leaves her hand planted on my chest. “Lonely childhood. Bookstore owner. Meddling sister. That’s three things you’ve shared today.” Her lips ghost over mine and the next two words come out in a sultry purr: “Good boy.”
I’ve died. Gone straight to heaven.
Dove skips away from me. “Ophelia! We found it!”
She gathers the gang and everyone heads to the bar. We look like a motley mob ready to storm the barricades.
The bartender comes back around. He’s got that amused look of someone who is in on the game, but playing it cool. “Can I help you?”
Ophelia points to the ornament. “We need that!”
“Ah. Yeah.” He folds his arms. “You can have it. But it’ll cost you.”
Ophelia slams a palm on the table. “What kind of D&D fuckery is this? I have to roll a ten or some shit?”
“No,” he explains. “But you do have to take a shot-ski.”
He removes one of the skis from behind the bar. I can see now that the ski has a number of round divots in it. He fills them with shot glasses, and then fills the shot glasses with tequila. One for each of us.
“Oh,” Princess says. “Not me. Sorry. I don’t drink.”
“No sweat.” The bartender removes her shot and puts it in front of him instead. Then he winks at Ophelia. “For the birthday girl.”
Ophelia has that wild, untamed energy that most find magnetic. I don’t blame half the bar for flirting with her.
She’s just not my type. My type is…well.
Standing right next to me, grimacing at the shot.
“Not a tequila fan?” I ask.
