Chapter 34
Avery Hunter’s Reporter Notebook: You think you can go up against the Trivia Master? Game. On.
I stood on the sidewalk outside Pleasure Point’s Town Hall, watching a steady stream of Pointers head inside.
The late afternoon sun was bright, but every light was on in Town Hall.
I was finally invited to the elusive game night, but it felt like a hollow victory.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was be surrounded by a bunch of meddling senior citizens and their million questions.
Plus, I was now suspicious of everyone who walked by and smiled.
Were they all in on it?
My suspicions grew when I watched Ziggy amble toward the front doors in a cloud of pot smoke.
His silver-gray hair was half pulled back in a leather tie.
He wore an indecently short pair of denim cutoffs.
A surprisingly fit belly peeked out underneath a yellow crop top tank top featuring a unicorn floatie.
And ragged, barely-there flip-flops slapped against the concrete sidewalk as he headed up the front stairs.
I narrowed my eyes at him. He winked back and threw me a two-fingered salute. I contemplated sending him a one-fingered message but was interrupted by Joy as she threaded her arm through my elbow.
“Isn’t this exciting? Your first BIMBO!” Joy tugged me toward the front doors.
“BINGO?” I shook my head. I’d been so depressed that I didn’t clear out the earwax after my shower. It interfered with my ability to hear correctly.
Joy simply laughed and pulled me along in the flow of people. The noise of the crowd grew louder as we approached the multi-purpose room. Everyone in the hallway seemed to stare at me, then give me that secret smile as if they knew something I didn’t.
It’s not paranoia if everyone is out to get you.
“There’s Thorn.” Joy pointed as we stepped over the threshold into the auditorium.
My oldest friend and current Number One on my Shit List saved two seats at a table down near the stage.
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to see his face right now, but Joy insisted that this was good for her baby-making hormones, then rubbed her belly.
She wasn’t even pregnant yet, but damn it, she appealed straight to my ovaries with that maneuver.
I might have been physically present for game night, whichever games we played, but that didn’t mean I had to like them or talk to anyone.
“Good evening, Avery! How are you tonight?” June Atwell smiled at me as we neared Thorn’s table.
Damn it.
June sat next to her husband, Don. They held hands under the table as if this were some sort of high school dance, and they worried the chaperones would catch them.
I envied their easygoing relationship. Don seemed to stare at his wife with heart eyes, and June would nuzzle his neck and whisper something into his ear that made him laugh.
I thought about stoic Warren growing up in a home full of love like that, and it warmed my heart, even though I was still mad at him.
One of the empty seats Thorn saved was right next to June. It was either sitting next to Mr. Shit List or next to Warren’s mother.
Damn. It.
I chose the chair next to the person I was least likely to punch and smiled at June. “I’m well. Thank you for asking.”
“Haven’t seen you around for a few days,” Don chimed in. “Were you on vacation?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Were we supposed to pretend I didn’t know they were meddling in my love life? “Something like that,” I mumbled.
Joy settled in the empty seat between Thorn and me.
We were all saved from further ridiculous chit-chat by a squealing microphone. Ziggy stood on stage.
“Good evening, ladies and germs. Welcome to BIMBO, which stands for: Baby, I Must Be Obvious!” Ziggy flicked his wrist with a flourish.
I frowned. That didn’t make a lick of sense. I glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to hang onto his every word. There wasn’t a confused face, even from Thorn and Joy. My suspicions grew.
“What is going on?” I whispered to Joy.
“You’ll see.” She patted my knee.
I rolled my eyes.
Ziggy opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the doors at the back of the room banging open with a clatter.
I swiveled in my seat to find Warren Atwell barreling through the opening, followed by Gerald, Zelda, Jack, Megan, Irv, Eula, Taney, and Keegan from Camp Quirkus.
The motley crew looked out of place in Pleasure Point, but that didn’t concern anyone around me.
“Warren?” I stood from my chair and gripped the back to hold me steady.
“Pardon the interruption, Ziggy!” Warren shouted. He didn’t need to raise his voice because you could have heard a pin drop in the room.
I looked guiltily at Warren’s parents, but they didn’t seem fazed by the out-of-character outburst from their son.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“What are you doing here?” Thorn asked as Warren approached the table.
I had never seen Warren so disheveled. His dark hair was tousled, forming curls over his forehead and ears.
Several leaves stuck out of the top of his head.
His blue button-down shirt was missing a button and covered in dirt and maybe tree bark.
He had a long, angry, red scratch on his neck.
And his green eyes flashed with fire as he opened his mouth.
“I am here to get my wife!” Warren exclaimed.
June gasped. Don laughed. Thorn grumbled something I didn’t catch. Joy grabbed a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
I definitely didn’t clear the ear wax out of my head when I showered because he sounded insane. “We’re not married. We never were.”
“Tell that to my heart,” he said.
My stupid heart flipped at that. I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop them from shaking.
“What are you doing here, Warren?” I stared at him.
He stalked closer to me with a fire in his eyes that forced me to squeeze my thighs together. “I told you. I am here to claim my wife.”
Don leaned toward his son and stage-whispered, “Maybe don’t say ‘claimed.’”
“It’s a little caveman-esque,” June agreed.
“Not caveman. Viking. He’s a Viking.” I sounded like I ran a marathon. Why was I out of breath?
Warren’s eyebrows shot up. “If you are calling me Viking Warren, there is still a chance.”
“Tell her what you did, War,” Taney urged from the pack of campgoers, and everyone began talking at once.
“You’re not going to believe it, Avery!” Megan agreed.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Irv said.
“It was so romantic,” Eula swooned.
“I got it all on video!” Keegan said.
“What? What did he do?” I glanced at Gerald. For some reason, I knew the camp director would give it to me straight.
Warren opened his mouth, and I stilled him with a look. “Nope. Not asking you right now. I want Gerald to answer.”
Gerald grinned at me, then rocked back on his heels. “The lovesick fool did the ropes course.”
I shook my head. “No freaking way. He’s afraid of heights.”
“Way!” Megan butted in. “He finished it, too! We thought he was a goner for a second.”
My heart stuttered. “What? What happened?” I looked at Warren, whose lips were flattened. “Now speak.”
“I slipped. It is fine. All is fine. Jack spotted me,” Warren answered.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Jack grunted.
I blinked a few times at Warren. “You did the ropes course? The whole thing? Why?”
No one answered this time. They all clammed up, waiting for Warren to say something.
I held my breath. I wasn’t sure what I expected the man to say, but you don’t burst into the Pleasure Point Town Hall Auditorium demanding to see your wife without some grand plan.
At least, I hope he had a grand plan. Otherwise, we were going to be the laughingstock of the island.
It better be good, or I might have to move.
Shit. I might have to move anyway.
Warren swallowed and stepped next to me. “I am sorry.”
I tilted my head. “Sorry for what?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, can we go somewhere else?”
“No. You’ve already made this a thing.” I motioned with my head toward the rapt audience in the auditorium. “Might as well see it through.”
“Yo! Lawyer dude, you’re in time just right,” Ziggy called from the stage.
We all turned our attention to the senior stoner.
“We were about to commence with the fray when you barged in.
And the first rule of BIMBO is if you crash the party, you have to play the cards you're dealt. BIMBO.” Ziggy shuffled across the stage toward our table.
“Is a cross between trivia and truth or consequence.”
I rolled my eyes at Warren. We both knew this was all an act, but we seemed stuck with the emcee’s rules.
Ziggy tilted his head. “Don’t look at him like that, writer dudette.
You’ll be his second fiddle. Here’s how it works: you each get three chances to beat around the bush with trivia.
The person with the most points at the end of the round gets to demand a truth or a leap of faith from the other person.
Sound peachy? Let’s hit the ground running. ”
“Three trivia questions? I can manage that,” Warren acquiesced.
Ziggy waited for me to answer, and I sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Totally terrific top ten tunes! Lawyer dude, you go first,” Ziggy instructed.
Warren faced me. “What does The First Amendment protect?”
“That’s not trivia, Warren.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you do not know the answer?”
I crossed my arms and huffed. “I thought you had something hard. The First Amendment covers freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right to peaceably assemble.”
“Correct.” Warren smiled. “That is one for my wife!”
The crowd around us clapped politely. I glanced at June’s face to see the hope in her eyes.
Damn it.
“What do the letters NDA stand for?” I asked Warren.
“Non-disclosure agreement,” he said. “Really?”
“One for Warren,” I told Ziggy, who grinned at me.