Page 31 of Roma King
“Fine.” He doesn’t look happy. Not even a bit. “And if I win—”
“You don’t get a prize if you win. That’s not how the game works.”
Anger flickers in his dark eyes. “And how would you know? This isn’tyourgame, is it?”
I can’t hold back the sigh this time. I release my frustrated breath, my shoulders slumping; this is taking way more time than it should. “Okay. You’re right. What do you want if you manage to trick me?”
The Fox slaps a hand to his chest in mock horror. “This isn’t a trick, young lady. It’s a game. A rouse at best. Tricks are for children and the intellectually redundant. Now, are you ready to take this seriously?”
“I thought I had to go and find Shelta if I wanted serious?”
The color drains from the fox’s face. For one long, awful, uncomfortable second, I think he’s going to flip his table over and fly at me like a deranged lunatic, but quite the opposite happens. He throws his head back and roars with laughter. “You’re a riot, youngGadje. I need to watch myself around you. I’ve made my decision. If I win, I want something very small. Nothing really. Something of little importance to you.”
“What?” I’m on guard now. His tone makes me feel like he’s lying. Like whatever he’s about to ask forwillbe of great importance to me.
“Just one of those fine, fiery strands of hair, littleGadje. Justone,” he says airily, waving his hand around.
“What? No! Absolutely not.”
“Why not? You have hundreds and hundreds of them. Thousands. One isn’t going to make a difference to you.”
“Why the hell would you want a strand of my hair?”
He shrugs. “Red was my mother’s favorite color. Not mine. My favorite color is purple, but still.”
I don’t believe in magic. I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in curse work, charms or any of that other nonsense. But even so, there’s definitely something highly irregular about someone you don’t know bargaining for a strand of your hair. Gives me the heebie jeebies. “I don’t think so.” I’m firm enough that the Fox looks disappointed.
“Fine. A key, then. One you don’t use anymore.”
“I don’t have a—”
“Of course you do,Gadje. Everyone has at least one. A key on your keychain that doesn’t do anything anymore. A key to nothing. A key you should have thrown away a long time ago.”
Now that he mentions it, thereisa key on my keychain that I don’t need—the key to my old mailbox back when I was in college. I have no reason to keep hold of it anymore, but then the Fox could have no possible use for it either. I’m done bargaining with the man. There are plenty of other stalls in the Midnight Fair that must be visited before I can leave here tonight. Plenty of other people I need to question about Corey. I reach into my purse and take out my set of keys, quickly winding off the extraneous key in question, offering out the small, worn bronze piece of metal to him in the palm of my hand.
Garrett looks wary. The fox quickly collects the key from my hand and places it down on top of the table between us, set to one side as collateral. “Okay,Gadje. Now. Watch the coin. If you can tell me where it ends up, you’ll get to ask your infernal question. Make sure you don’t blink, though. I have the quickest hands in this entire fair. Are you ready?”
I nod.
The fox smirks.
The coin is still underneath the cup marked with a C. I watch as the old man slides the cups across the surface of his stall, and I make sure to keep an eye out for the moment when he switches the placement of the coin. The cups are marked, after all. There would be no point to his hustle if the coin stayed where it was; the initials on the base of the cups would make it all too easy to select the correct one otherwise.
The fox’s fingers deftly manipulate the cups, but I don’t see the exchange. The cups are muddled and maneuvered, and I begin to realize that I’ve completely wasted my time. He’s already moved the coin. He must have done it while I was getting my keys from my bag. Or while we were arguing about the strand of my hair. Either way, I’ve already lost this game. I lost it before it even truly started.
The fox stops moving the cups and sets them neatly in a row. M first, then C, then the cup marked with the E on the very end. Reluctantly, I extend my hand, about to tap the cup marked with the C, annoyance and frustration pooling in the base of my stomach, but Garrett places his hand on my arm, shaking his head. His eyes travel to the cup marked with the M, and he winks.
While I was distracted, it turns out my friend was paying closer attention than I was. Thank fuck for Garrett. I smile at him, returning his wink, and I swing my arm to the left, using my index finger to tap the cup with the M. The fox coughs into his balled-up hand.
“Well, I’m not sure if that’s fair or no. Some might call that kind of outside help cheating, y’know.”
“You didn’t say I wasn’t allowed a little assistance.”
He thinks about this, brows pulling together, before he shrugs. “Fair. I didn’t say that. You’re sure you want to pick that cup, then?”
I look to Garrett, and he nods. He’s one hundred percent sure. Turning back to the fox, I fold my arms across my chest. “Yes. I choose that one.”
“All right, then.” The Fox quickly picks up the cup marked with the M, and…the coin isn’t there.
