Page 25 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“You really just wanted to do thePamchenkolike in the movie, didn’t you?” Reed asked dryly. “Admit it.”
“Heck, yes.” I smiled. “Or, you know, whatever the real-life equivalent was. I knew some other kids had gotten paired as young as nine. But, um… my teacher said it just wasn’t feasible formeto do that. None of the other kids, even the biggest ones, were strong enough to handle the lift and the throw, and it would be dangerous to try. And I… I guess I just lost my fire for the sport after that. I mean, if you can’t fly like a butterfly, why bother?”
“Why bother?” he repeated softly, his green eyes so intense on mine that no amount of firm warnings to my dick would make it deflate.
I reached for my beer with sweating hands and drained the whole nasty thing in one go.
“Wow,” Reed said with a blink. “You do like beer, huh?”
I coughed a little as the last dregs of foam went down my throat, then set my empty glass on the table. The taste was questionable—why people enjoyed carbonated bread juice, I’d never know—but it was a great distraction.
So great that I smiled at the server as she passed and leaned over to ask, “Could I please have a refill, miss?”
She snorted a little and glanced at Reed, almost as if asking for permission, then shrugged. “You got it, kiddo.”
The second beer went down easier than the first, and Reed’s smile became a concerned frown. “I’m, ah, guessing you’re still in shock, or maybe your denial’s wearing off. Either way, maybe slow your roll.”
The world had gotten the tiniest, loveliest bit hazy around the edges, making it easy to forget things likegunfights, and concerning accusations about my uncle, and how badly I wished I’d gotten to kiss Reed, back when I’d thought there was a chance he was interested in me that way.
“You know how Norm Avery sometimes stands up on the rungs of his stool at the Bugle and yells ‘In beer there is freedom!’?” I licked my lips. “I think I get it now.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Freedom from what?”
From being me, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. Reed wasn’t an overtalking, not-often-but-occasionally distracted, and generally hard-to-take person. When he wanted to accomplish something, he took action, like John Ruffian. When he thought a thing, he said it. He wouldn’t understand.
After the server delivered a third beer along with our burgers without me even having to ask—gosh, we really needed to leave her a nice tip—Reed rapped his fist on the wooden table to get my attention. “You asked me before what our next step was.”
I blinked at him. “Did I?”
“You did. Two beers ago. And, I want to be clear—everything’s going to be alright, Chris. The safe house situation sucked, but it’s no big deal in the grand scheme, okay?”
“Sure. No big deal,” I agreed, wondering if Reed realized how often he said that.
“I’ve got you,” he continued, “and we’re gonna stick to the plan.”
Reed was so sweet, and he looked so darn serious, but when he said, “stick to the plan,” I couldn’t help giggling a little. Until I’d gotten into Reed’s car a few hours ago, myplanhad been to start a side hustle as a charcuterie maker, and I’d considered it a wild, oat-sowing adventure. I’d sure as heck never planned on Reed Sunday.
And there was a good reason forthat.
“Do you suppose there’s a bus station in this town?” I wondered, chewing one of the french fries I hadn’t thought I wanted.
If Reed dropped me at a bus station, I had enough money to cover a ticket… assuming I could figure out where to go. The Hollow was probably the right option, but being around Reed’s family would feel weird now. I could go back to New Jersey, but with Danny’s house closed up and the Cellar gone, it would be pretty hecking lonely and would worry my uncle if he heard about it. That was how he’d gotten me to go in the first place, even though I really hadn’t wanted to.You’ll be lonely, Christoforo, and I’ll worry. And I’d agreed because… well, because I always agreed.
Reed’s green eyes narrowed, and he waved a hand in front of my face. “Focus, Chris. I’m going to make some calls and find us a new safe house?—”
“Reed.” I sighed, pushing up my glasses. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, since I appreciate that you communicated a clear boundary in saying that you didn’t want to discuss the whole, um, unclething?—”
“No, I’m donearguingwith you about it.” He set his jaw. “Our safe house got attacked by people looking for you?—”
“Ormaybe no one was looking for me at all and it’s a… a coincidence that someone called my name! And, yes, maybe it seems like a weird and unlikelycoincidence, I grant you—” I hurried on when it looked like he was going to interrupt. “—but no weirder than anything else that’s happened to me today, getting p-picked up and kidnapped?—”
“You were not fucking kidnapped!” Reed exclaimed, eyes dark and cheeks suddenly flushed. He darted a glance to the side to make sure no one overheard and leaned forward before continuing in a harsh whisper, “You werenot being held against your will. You got in that car on your own.”
My face flamed. “Yes.Technically.But I didn’t know where we were going, and I didn’t know there were going to be guns involved, and I didn’t know you were going to tell me my uncle isn’t who I thought he was, and my whole life isn’t what I thought it was, and now I can’t go h-home.” My voice cracked. “This isn’t me. I’m a very boring person.”
He snorted. “Bullshit.”
“It’s not,” I assured him. “I’m a charcuterie specialist. I like recommending wine pairings. I like talking to shoppers. I don’t go to wild parties. I don’t have adventures. I have never thrown an ax. Heck, Danny didn’t let me take over the Cellar when he retired because he thought I was too s-soft.Too soft to run this business,Christoforo. That’s what he said when he told me he was selling the place. And I…” I pressed my lips together because I was suddenly afraid I might cry. I blamed the beer. And possibly also the gunfight.
