73. Tess
TESS
I was so exhausted from our practice hunt that Nash and Blade had to nearly drag me out of the loft the next afternoon.
Even the noise of Nash making breakfast and the bright sun in my bedroom couldn’t stir me from my slumber.
Our little chase — and everything Blade and her ropes put me through — had taken every ounce of my energy. And despite having lost, I felt more confident when I woke to the gentle knock on my door.
Nash and Blade stood in my doorway, filling the frame easily with both of their muscular bodies.
“Upsy, Daisy, Trinket.” Blade grinned, licking her knowing lips. “We’ve got a reward for you.”
At first I was reluctant, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed with Butch and doze to his soft purrs.
But it was impossible to resist my two roommates’ charm. After a little playful convincing, I got up, picked a casual outfit and walked with them down to the Cadillac.
It was a short drive to Valemont, and the entire time I stared out the windows — searching for any hint I could muster.
My eyebrows lifted in shock when I saw the towering, neon sign over a mostly empty parking lot. “A bowling alley?”
The sign had a vintage look, like it had been put up in the 1950s but not a drop of rain had touched it.
In a classic fifties scrawl, the neon sign blinked: “Split Happens Bowling Alley.”
I remembered it being here when we were kids, driving past it in the church van. But the siding was peeling back then and the parking lot cracked and the signs were covered in debris.
Now, the whole place had been refreshed as if some magic fairy godmother had rolled up and given it a nice paint job.
“Yep.” Nash smiled as she parked the car right up front.
“Doesn’t Feverpoint have one?” Looking out the window, I couldn’t see past the tinted glass doors of the Alley.
Blade turned in her seat. “Nope. Kind of an oversight. Except, no one who pays for an amusement park is going to spend the day bowling.”
Before I could ask more questions, Nash hopped out of the driver’s seat and pulled open my door. “Let’s go, Sweet Lamb.”
I followed their lead as Blade held open the front door.
As soon as we stepped inside, the patterned carpet and clatter of falling pins put me at ease. It wasn’t how I remembered it, no dank smell smacking my nostrils as we waltzed toward the counter.
A young woman with a long ponytail leaned against the polished wood, wearing a red and black striped shirt. “Hey, y’all. What can I do for you?” There was a recognition in her voice and the gentle smile she offered my pierced and tatted Freaks.
Blade took the lead, flashing a smile back and gripping the edge of the counter. “Hey, can we do Lane 9, three shoes, please?”
“You got it.” Danielle, according to her nametag, got to work.
As she collected shoes and put our lane into the computer, I turned and looked at the lanes. The floors were perfectly polished, a light wood that shimmered under the mutli-color LED lights embedded behind wood panels along the walls and ceiling.
Someone had come in and renovated the whole place, replacing musty carpeted walls with twenty-first-century design.
Once Danielle slid the shoes over the counter, she nodded toward Lane 9. “You can place food orders on the screens and we’ll bring it over.” It was clear that she was speaking to me, knowing that Blade and Nash already knew the drill.
As we walked over to the alleys, stepping down into the pit where black leather booths sat at the end of each lane, I turned to Blade. “How often do you come bowling?”
“More often than most people.” She laughed, an inside joke I wasn’t a part of just yet.
But we reached our area, quiet and near the edge of the building. Nash walked up to the computer screen at the center of the booths. Getting to work inputting names and setting up our system, Nash’s brow furrowed as she concentrated.
It made my stomach twist, watching her focus. I could see her in her studio, toiling away at drawings of me — sculpting my cunt.
“All set.” Nash threw herself down into the booth, sitting close to me. “Like your name?”
Looking up at the overhead monitor, three rows of players set up for a ten-round game, I rolled my eyes. “Sweet Lamb? Seriously?”
I nudged her with my shoulders.
In a deep growl, Nash pulled me closer. “You were such a sweet, obedient girl last night. It’s the perfect name for you.”
Blade stood up, first to bowl, and grabbed a neon green ball from the ball return. “Try not to be intimidated, Trinket. We’re regulars.” With a wink, Blade sent her bowling ball ripping down the polished wood and into the ten pins at the end of the lane.
Hitting eight of the ten, the remaining two formed a cluster on the left side.
Should be easy enough.
“Did you take me here to show off?” I narrowed my eyes on them.
Blade shrugged. “Well, we thought it was only fair to give you a game you stand a chance at winning, since you lost so fast last night.”
Scoffing, I licked my teeth. “Oh, you asshole.”
As Blade turned her attention back to the lane, Nash nodded toward the podium at the center of our booth. “Hungry?”
Of course I was, they’d worn me out last night and I had yet to eat today. But as I leaned forward and tried to decide what to get, my mind was racked with indecision.
Grabbing my hand, Nash pulled it away. “I’ll order. Sit back and relax.”
A part of me wanted to fight her on it, how did she know what I wanted to eat? In reality, I’d spent far too many years making a metric-fuckload of choices. And I was tired of always having to figure it out.
So instead, I sat back in the plush black leather and watched as Blade launched her green ball back down the alley.
The clatter of the last two pins filled the whole place, only a small family at the very far end opposite us.
“Let’s go!” Blade pumped her fists just as Nash was placing our order with the kitchen. “You’re up, Nash-nasty.”
Groaning, Nash stood up. “Jesus.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname as Blade sat next to me, placing her arm over my shoulders. The mix of her earthy scent and a light sweat filled my nose, making my body desperate for her all over again.
I had never let anyone touch me the way she had last night, never trusted anyone enough to hold that responsibility with any honor. But Blade could, shouldering all of her power with grace. Even if she loved to laugh at how pathetic the two of them made me.
“You bowl much, Trinket?” Blade watched my face closely, her body still as she stared.
Memory washed over me, tightening my chest.
“Used to.”
Blade’s jaw tensed as she leaned closer. “Your mom?”
Nodding, I was surprised she remembered. “Before she died, yeah. Single mom, small town. Estranged dad who moved across the country.”
“She tried to make things special.” There was a matter-of-fact way she spoke, like all of this was something we’d already talked about. But I knew when we were kids that we were all too guarded — jaded by the way the foster system had fucked all of us up — to talk so honestly.
“I’m glad you had that. Even for a while.” Blade’s gaze grew distant.
Biting my lip, I asked a question I’d been sitting on for some time. “Your parents… they sent you to Heirs of Promise right?”
Her green eyes shimmered under the multi-colored light. But Blade cleared her throat. “Yeah.”
“Do you know if they’re still alive?”
“Yep.”
“Did you ever go looking for them?”
That was the missing piece. All of them had run away from the home. But Blade did have family, someone who might go looking for them. From my recollection, her parents were normal — a white picket fence and a golden retriever.
After all these years, had she really stayed hidden in Feverpoint’s depths? Had she ever gotten curious about the people who’d sent their only child into a religious group home?
Blade met my eyes now, hesitance gone. “I did.” She gave me a second to be surprised before explaining. “They moved a few towns over after we disappeared. I tracked them down a couple years back, watched them from afar.”
“They seemed happy.” Her leg began to tap, anxiety rushing through her.
My hand went to her thigh, squeezing her. How could they possibly be okay without their child? Without ever knowing?
Shrugging, Blade’s leg stopped. “They never would have accepted me. It was easier for all of us. I never would get to be… well, this.” She gestured to herself. Tattooed and pierced, a Three of Swords brand on her arm. Blood in her veins, Fright Night her release.
I understood it. She was right. There was no one else on this earth quite like her.
She deserved the world. And she went out and got it for herself.
“Besides, I got a new family. One that takes me as I am.”
Just then, Nash was walking back over to us — happy with the spare she’d scored. Performatively, she wiped her shoulders off and shrugged.
I leaned to Blade’s ear, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You’re perfect. Really. Just as you are.” Planting a kiss on her cheek, I stood up and moved toward the ball return.
“What the hell? When do I get a kiss?” Nash smirked.
“When you deserve it!” I hollered over my shoulder as I picked a purple ball, weighing in at six pounds. Clearing my throat, I tried to recenter myself.
I wanted to break down their walls, knowing that there was more to each of them than they wanted me to see. They were guarded and wary, even if we’d known each other years ago. And so was I.
The monitor overhead told me that my two Freaks had both scored spares.
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I slipped my fingers into the bowling ball and swung it back. I released my grip and let the ball hurtle down the lane.
I winced as the bowl smacked into the gutter, rolling to the back of the pinsetter.
“Shit.”
“That’s okay, you’re warming up.” There was an overconfidence in Blade’s voice as she smirked at me.
But once the purple ball returned to me, I tried to aim the ball more toward the center. But at the last second, my wrist bent and sent the ball back into the gutter. “Fuck.”
“Oof.” Nash put her hands behind her head, her muscular biceps flexing as she grinned. “Do you need the ramp?”
“Or the bumpers?” Blade laughed.
Before I could fight back, Danielle from the front counter appeared with a black tray full of food. She placed it down on the black formica table on the end of the booth. “Enjoy!”!
“Thanks, Dani.” Nash waved her thanks. “Dig in. It’s not a five-star dinner but it’s food.”
Just looking at the tray full of greasy food made my stomach rumble. The night we’d had left me with all the symptoms of a hangover. And the piles of fries, buffalo wings, burgers, and mozzarella sticks seemed like the perfect cure.
I already had a handful of fries in my mouth by the time Nash had finished speaking. Her jaw dropped as she watched me chow down.
“I need to refuel. That’s why I’m guttering,” I said through a mouthful of cheese and bread.
“No, I like it.” Nash watched my lips as I licked them clean.
We stayed on like that, rotating between bowling and eating as each of our turns came and went.
With each set, Nash and Blade got more average bowls — spares, a couple splits, a rare strike.
But I kept my focus, working on my form with each turn. By the time we’d hit the end of our second game, our scores were almost even.
A couple strikes would set me over.
On the tenth round, I stepped up to the approach and sucked in a deep breath.
I closed my eyes, trying to drown out Nash and Blade’s hollering from behind me.
Swinging my arm back, I kept my wrist straight as I followed through, releasing the bowling ball just as my arm lifted. The purple sphere landed with a thud as it raced down the slick lane.
Holding my breath, I watched it careen toward the pins, smacking right between the tip of the triangle and the pin to its left.
Ten pins clattered to the ground, echoing off the wood panelled walls.
“Yes!” I cheered as I leapt into the air.
“What the fuck!” Blade jumped up, throwing her hands in the air.
By the time I made my way back to the ball return, my purple ball was already being spit out by the churning machine.
Shrugging, I grabbed the ball off the rack. “Beginner’s luck.” I winked before turning around and repeating my movement.
Like it was nothing, ten more pins collapsed in. Two strikes. Back to back.
“No, seriously, now. Come on!” Nash shook her head as she gripped her curly hair in her fists.
I couldn’t help but giggle at their frustration. Now they were starting to get how I felt. They’d been beating me at their own game for weeks now, and it was my turn for a little fun.
With one last turn before the end of the game, I grabbed my purple ball once more and took my time lining up the shot. A third strike would guarantee my victory. But even a few extra downed pins would get me close — if not push me over.
I sent the sphere hurtling down the alley one last time, letting it hit the same sweet spot with just a slight movement of my wrist.
And one more time, all ten pins collapsed.
“Ha!” I cheered, squealing as I returned to our booth.
Nash and Blade’s jaws were dragging on the polished wood floors. Overhead, the monitor played a 3D-rendered victory screen. A series of strikes animated with fireworks behind it announced that player “Sweet Lamb” had won.
A slim victory, but a victory nonetheless.
I gave them a simple shrug. “I told you, I just needed to warm up.”