Chapter 9
Nine
Développé: a slow unfolding of the leg, extending to one hundred and twenty degrees to the front, side, or back.
Alexander
For the first time in my life, I approached the Hollyberry Ballet School with no small amount of dread.
What was I thinking agreeing to some sort of gamer party?
I’d been playing this game for under two weeks.
Now I was about to show off my lack of skill to total strangers?
Clearly, my time back home had gone from boredom to bonkers, a fact underscored by Rudy emerging from the building’s back entrance carrying what appeared to be all his worldly possessions in no less than four bags.
“What’s with the luggage?” I stamped my feet against the evening chill.
I’d changed from our school visit earlier, and I’d never confess how long picking out a shirt had taken me.
Lacking Rudy’s endless supply of geek-themed T-shirts, I’d ended up with a basic blue pullover and a growing stack of doubts.
Rudy juggled his many bags as he made his way to me.
Not wanting him to injure something, I relieved him of the two larger bags. “And give me those.”
“Deck boxes, dice collection, play mats, the usual assortment of game stuff.” Rudy gestured at the bags I now held before holding up the other two. “And these are my contributions to the snack table.”
“Wait. Was I supposed to bring food?” I undoubtedly sounded rather cranky in addition to clueless. I should have known the gathering was a potluck. In my defense, in my parents’ world, a party usually meant catered, but I loathed the idea of showing up empty-handed.
“Relax.” Rudy swung the reusable shopping bags. A package of tortilla chips peeked out of the top of one bag. “You can share credit for my chips and dip and a veggie tray if it makes you feel better, but people will just be happy to see a new face.”
“Fresh competition.” My tone was measured. All eyes would undoubtedly be on me, sizing up my weaknesses, debating how quickly I could be defeated. This was a terrible idea.
“We’re not that vicious.” Rudy chuckled as he led the way down the block. “Actually, you may be one of the most bloodthirsty among us.”
“Why play if not to win?” I asked reasonably, but Rudy only laughed that much harder.
“For fun, Alexander. Fun.” Rudy shook his head at me. He’d paired his older ski-style coat with an absurd knit hat that sparkled in the glow from the street lamp. In my admittedly limited opinion, yarn should be neither furry nor glittery, and somehow Rudy’s hat managed to be both.
“Winning is fun.” That was the entire reason I’d agreed to this plan.
Every night we played was a fresh chance to beat Rudy.
Even when I didn’t succeed, the rush of trying had me clamoring for another round.
Winning was an even bigger adrenaline rush, and as far as I was concerned, the entire purpose of the game.
“You’re incorrigible.” Rudy sighed like I was truly taxing.
In truth, he put up with me much better than most, never cowering from my moods or reputation.
“And we’re here.” His voice brightened as he stopped in front of a weathered sign for Top of Your Table Games, a store I hadn’t known existed despite its proximity to the ballet school.
However, it looked to have occupied this very corner for decades.
Shifting both grocery bags to one hand, Rudy tapped his forehead.
“Oh! I forgot to warn you about the cosplayers.”
“The cosplayers?” I frowned. I might need a dictionary for all things geek if I kept hanging around Rudy.
“Players who prefer to game while costumed as various characters from the Odyssey.” Rudy’s tone was extra earnest, a clear bid to convince me the idea wasn’t absurd. “It’s fun. You’ll see.”
“I wear costumes for work. Not recreation.” For all I loved about ballet, stage makeup and costuming were hardly my favorite things. The makeup was thick and hard to wash off, and depending on the production, costume tunics could be heavy and fiddly and require assistance to get on and off.
“Shush. Keep an open mind.” Rudy led me around the back of the shop.
The heavy gray emergency exit door swung open to reveal a squat, bearded fellow somewhere around my age who wore a sweatshirt with the store logo.
“Troy! How are you?” Rudy offered his usual enthusiastic greeting before motioning at me.
“This is Alexander. He’s new, but he’s a killer with my shark deck. ”
“Excellent.” Troy’s eyes narrowed like a panther sizing up its prey. He led us to the rear of the store, where folding tables and chairs were set up. “I put the finishing touches on a crow deck today that should match up nicely.”
“Did you get that mythic you wanted for it?” Rudy asked as he set his food offerings on one of the tables along the back wall that was already heaped with various food options, including a small crockpot bubbling away with meatballs inside and a couple of salad-like things.
After my steady diet of quasi-healthy frozen meals, my stomach rumbled at the spicy scents mingling in the air.
“Naturally. Took a bit of searching, but the card turned up.” Troy adopted a prideful tone, which undoubtedly meant the card in question was rare and fine jewelry-level expensive.
Troy fussed with a stack of paper plates as a younger woman in a full-on scarlet regency ballgown made her way toward us.
Troy waved her over for introductions. “Here’s Ari. Ari, this is Alex. He’s—”
“Alexander,” Rudy corrected before I could.
“Alexander.” Troy’s tone turned long-suffering. “He’s a friend of Rudy’s and a newbie.”
“Welcome. I’ve only been coming for a few months myself.
” Ari adjusted her glittery tiara, which sat atop an elaborate updo.
Her dress had a wide skirt, undoubtedly supported by layers of fabric not unlike a tutu, and the quality of the ensemble went beyond Halloween costume to something worthy of a royal event.
“My girlfriend showed me her empress deck, and the rest was history.”
Ari gestured toward another young woman in similar attire, including a crown and eye patch. They had to be the cosplayers Rudy had mentioned, but luckily, I’d been around enough wardrobe departments to know an appropriate response.
“That’s a fabulous costume. It must have taken hours of work.”
“It did.” Ari beamed. Beside me, Rudy puffed up like I’d done something particularly right. He’d make an excellent stage mother, complete with his not-so-subtle nod of approval as Ari continued, “What hooked you on the game?”
Rudy. That answer, while accurate, wouldn’t do at all. Setting my jaw against the sentiment, I went for an arch tone instead. “I enjoy winning.”
“Don’t we all.” Ari laughed lightly and shoved a paper plate at me. “You need a plate. Irma and Raymond brought whoopie pies. Grab one before they disappear like a ghost deck.”
“A ghost deck?” I hadn’t heard of that mechanic and was instantly intrigued. “How does that work?”
Ari launched into a lengthy explanation while I cautiously filled a plate with what appeared to be the healthiest options, but somehow, one of the whoopie pies did indeed join my collection of carrot sticks, salad, and deli meats.
The seasonal confection was worth every calorie.
Discussion of deck options carried us through the small talk and snacks portion of the evening before we broke into smaller groups to play.
My borrowed shark deck ended up pitted against Troy.
Troy was a crafty player with a sneaky collection of card-swiping moves. He took every ounce of my concentration, so much so that I was startled when Rudy took the chair next to me as we approached the later stages of the match.
“Having fun?” Rudy asked like I wasn’t in a battle for my very life.
“I will be once I win,” I gritted out right as Troy and his blasted army of crows took my last life points with an attack I had no defense for.
“Sorry, mate.” Troy offered me a handshake across the table. “Good game. Want to go again?”
“Absolutely.” I couldn’t reshuffle fast enough, already scheming how to beat him on the second try.
“Careful before you strain something.” Rudy chuckled, a fond sound that made my chest bizarrely tight. Strain. Huh. I hadn’t thought of my knee once all evening, nor the upcoming performance or my eventual return to the stage in Seattle. Perhaps there was something to this hobby business after all.
“Deal you in?” Troy asked Rudy before summoning an older gentleman over to our table. “Raymond? Care to join? Always more fun with a foursome.”
I narrowly avoided snort-laughing. Cards were hardly my first thought with the word foursome.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Raymond took the chair next to Troy. “Have we introduced young Alexander to table politics?”
“I’m not that young.” I pursed my lips. Rudy had been right that the play group included a wide variety of ages, but that didn’t change how ancient I felt every time Rudy smiled and that zap of attraction hit me again.
“You’re all young compared to me.” Raymond gave a nifty shuffle of his deck, a high arch of tumbling cards. I’d have to learn that trick.
“Alexander is new to the game. This is his first foursome.” Rudy narrowed his eyes at Raymond. “Be nice.”
“Always.” Raymond gave a toothy grin. He wagged a finger in my direction. “And a good alliance goes far. You’ll see.”
I did see in relatively short order that my typical strategy of attacking early and often was going to get me killed far too quickly. Raymond made a nimble bargain with Troy that enabled him to weather my oncoming attack easily. Too easily. I glanced at Rudy as he rearranged the cards in his hand.
“If you attack Troy next turn, I won’t go after you yet.”
“Deal.” Rudy grinned at me. Zap. I wasn’t sure which I found more appealing: him or the game. Okay, that was a lie. It was definitely Rudy. I distracted myself from the unwanted attraction by amassing more sharks for my army.
Amazingly, my alliance with Rudy worked, and we handily defeated Raymond and then Troy.
“We won!” I made a triumphant gesture with my hand, smacking my cards against the table.
“Well, technically, you guys are supposed to battle each other to see who wins the whole game, but if you wanna celebrate now, go for it.” Troy shrugged, evidently none too concerned about the rules.
“Alexander needs the victory to sleep well tonight.” Rudy chuckled, gesturing at me. “Your move.”
I studied the current state of the game. In working together, Rudy’s life count had dwindled along with his resources. If I attacked now, he’d likely be unable to defend. I’d win, but suddenly, victory tasted more bitter.
“It doesn’t seem fair…” I demurred, hand hovering over my row of shark cards.
“It’s a game. Remember?” Rudy stuck his tongue out at me. The gesture was intended to be comical, but my stirring of arousal was anything but. “Do me in. I’ll make dying noises and everything.”
“Fine. I attack.” I made the move so I didn’t have to think about his tongue anymore.
“I perish.” Rudy gripped his throat, dramatic noises escaping his mouth as he writhed in his chair. After he was done carrying on, he glanced around the room where the other tables were also finishing as players put away their decks and dice. “And now we help clean up.”
I joined in the effort to put away the food, resisting the impulse to swipe another cookie. Rudy packed up his many decks into colorful boxes with neat labels while chatting with Raymond and Irma.
“So Alexander won?” Irma asked as she put the lid on a casserole dish.
“Yes. He’s a natural,” Rudy bragged.
One would never guess he’d lost, and indeed, he seemed as happy as if he’d been the one to win. I’d heard my parents and various teachers rave about my ballet skills, but Rudy’s praise felt unfamiliar, like a new pair of shoes I had yet to break in.
In fact, my dancing hadn’t come up in conversation all evening, affording a layer of anonymity I hadn’t realized I needed.
Here, I didn’t have to be Alexander Dasher with all the associated expectations.
I could be Alexander, the surprisingly competent newbie card player.
Not needing to be the best was another novel sensation.
I was satisfied with the rounds I had won and able to let go of the loss to Troy.
As Rudy and I headed out into the night, my steps felt lighter. An almost giddy good mood settled over me as the chilly November wind whipped around us.
“It got cold.” Rudy tugged his coat closer.
“It did.” I had the strangest urge to put an arm around him. My brain happily supplied a list of other ways I could keep him warm. Not wanting to give in to either desire, I sped up. “And it’s late. I can’t believe how long we played.”
“Come on.” Rudy kept up with my longer strides so he could bump my shoulder. “Say it. You had fun.”
“I didn’t hate it,” I allowed, using a disinterested tone simply to earn a groan from Rudy and another playful shove.
“You. Had. Fun.”
“Perhaps.” I sniffed like a bored prince.
“Never change, Alexander. Never change.” Rudy shook his head at me before pulling up short in front of a small stationary store with a lit Christmas tree in the window. “Look! Holiday decorations are starting to go up. Thanksgiving is almost here. Isn’t this the best time of year?”
“Not usually.” Where Rudy saw magic, I saw work and more work. “It’s the annual sludge of rehearsals, tech week, promo, crowded performances, and rushed holiday celebrations.”
Rudy responded by humming the theme song from The Grinch at me.
“I’m not a Grinch.” I held up my hands. “I’m a realist.”
“If the costume fits…” Rudy taunted in a singsong voice.
“Take that back.” I stomped on toward the ballet school.
I wasn’t sure why I was letting Rudy rile me up.
The holidays meant The Nutcracker, and The Nutcracker meant work, and if my inability to appreciate the season made me a Grinch, so be it.
I needed to drop the argument. I made a frustrated noise as Rudy hummed that much louder.
“The image of you dressed as a Grinch is stuck in my brain.”
“Unstick it.” I got in his face as we reached the back of the school.
“Make me.” Laughing with his dimples on full display, he stuck his tongue out at me again.
Like earlier, arousal slammed into me. However, now there was no game to distract me. Instead, I did the only thing that seemed to make sense and closed the distance between us, backing him against the brick building and stepping so close our coats brushed.
“Make me,” he repeated in a husky whisper.
“Gladly.” And with that, I lost the last of my brain cells and kissed Rudy.