Page 11 of You Rock My World
I swallow back the urge to correct her. What would I even say? Instead, I nod to mask the frustration bubbling underneath.
Before the silence settles too long, Josie pulls her bag into her lap. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here to keep us from doing shadow puppets.”
“What are you looking for? A portable movie projector? A travel chess set?”
“Close. Found them.” She holds up a deck of cards.
“You keep the weirdest things in that bag.”
“My niece loves card games, I always carry a deck.”
I eye the cards skeptically. “Are we playing Go Fish?”
“Go Fish? What are we, five?” She shuffles. “No, we’re playing poker.”
Teasing her feels like stepping onto a thin patch of ice over a lake: dangerous and unwise. And yet I’m committed to either making the crossing or plunging into the freezing water below as I say, “I don’t have any cash on me. Should we make it strip poker?”
“Yes, great idea.”
I cough, choking on air at how casually she agreed. My eyes roam over her figure, and I’m not sure I’d survive peeking at what’s under that dress. I’m about to backpedal when she adds, “But how about instead of stripping our clothes, we strip our souls?”
“How does one strip his soul?” I scratch my jaw. “Are you part of a cult?”
“No cult, but I’m a proud member of the Cheesecake Factory rewards program.” Josie stops shuffling and tilts her head. “The loser answers a question, honestly. No holds barred.”
Suddenly, the stakes feel higher. The thought of uncovering some of Josie’s secrets is thrilling. But revealing mine? I don’t trust easily, and never strangers.
She catches the hesitation on my face and drops the cards to grab her diary. She scribbles on a page that she rips and hands to me.
I scan the text and grin. She gave me a sassy NDA with a one-million-dollar damages clause.
“You got a million dollars?”
“No, and I don’t plan to spend my life repaying a debt. Student loans are enough.”
I should back out, keep things light and superficial, but I nod. “Deal.” I tuck the paper into my jacket. Not because I’d ever use it against her, but because it’s a piece of this night I have a feeling I’ll want to hold on to.
Josie deals the cards. I study my hand—high double couple. I swap one and stay with my double couple. She swaps three and beats me with a tris of fours.
“Time to pay up, rockstar. How did you become a musician?”
It’s a question I’ve answered a hundred times, but Josie asks it with genuine curiosity instead of formulaic journalism. It makes me want to give her a deeper answer.
I toy with the corner of a card. “It wasn’t a grand epiphany. When I was a kid, everything was loud—arguments, slammed doors, life in general. Music was the one noise I could control. Figured if I played loud enough, I wouldn’t have to hear the rest. And there was this girl…”
Josie smirks. “There’s always a girl.”
“She loved this local band, so I joined one too. Turned out I didn’t suck with a guitar and I could sing. Then everyone was paying attention. Not just her.”
“Bet she still regrets not having your baby in high school.”
“What? She didn’t even let me get to third base.”
“What a shame. They’ll put that on her tombstone:here lies…” she trails off, waiting for me to supply the name.
“Sandy Parker.”
“Here lies Sandy Parker,” Josie recites. “Who went to second base with Rian Phoenix, but never let him get to third—bless her soul.”
