1. X
X
“Which of us would survive longest in a zombie apocalypse?” Grayson looked over at me with that pinched expression he always seemed to wear at these meetings.
“Really not what I meant when I asked if anyone had any questions for the group, X. Also, do you think you could possibly remove the mascot head now?”
I gripped the head of my massive serpent—not the one in my pants—and held it tight so none of them could yank it off me. “Sorry, no can do. I’m in character. We have a game tonight.” I thrust my fist into the air. “Go Vipers!”
“I still can’t believe they let you be the mascot,” Trigger said around a wry grin I could barely see through the mesh that covered my eyes. “Especially since you can’t skate.”
Whip elbowed him. “Shut up. He’s getting better.”
I beamed and slung my arm around his shoulders. “Aw! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Whip shrugged me off him. “I also think you’ll be eaten first in the zompoc.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s so offensive. Why, Whip, why?”
Whip held up one hand and started counting off on his fingers. “One, you can’t shoot for shit, so you’d have to do all your killing hand-to-hand. More chance of getting bitten. Two, you talk so much you’d probably try having a conversation with the zombies before you even thought about running—”
“I can’t help I was brought up with good manners and like to ask people about their day.”
Levi squinted at me. “Last week you nearly got hit by a car because you stopped in the middle of crossing the street to ask a homeless guy if he thought your duck was depressed.”
I scoffed, “He was feeding the pigeons! The man clearly had bird experience, and you know how I feel about Reggie’s mental health. Second, I didn’t nearly get hit. I was testing the driver’s reflexes.”
Levi stared at me. “You screamed and dropped your seven-dollar drink.”
That was true. “The driver didn’t even offer to reimburse me.” I was still mourning that matcha tea I hadn’t even gotten to take a sip of.
Grayson snapped his fingers in our direction. “Can we concentrate on the meeting?”
I nodded my massive snake head. “Yes. So I think Ace would be the first to be eaten. Discuss.”
Grayson groaned. “I give up.”
Ace frowned in my direction. “State your reasons.”
“You can’t run in your cowboy boots.”
He glanced down at his white street shoes and then back up at me. “How do you even know I own cowboy boots? I’ve never worn them here.”
Trig looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and barely concealed laughter. “Wait, you admit it? You own cowboy boots?”
“We saw him practicing his line dances,” I told him.
Trigger’s laughter filled the high-ceilinged work shed. He waved a hand at Ace. “Line dancing? Like, the heel-and-toe polka or something? Show us, cowboy.”
Ace shoved to his feet, facing off with Trigger.
“Oh boy,” Levi muttered from beside me. He sat up a little straighter, paying more attention, like this all could descend into violence at any moment, and he needed to be ready for it. “Here we go.”
Grayson, ever the mediator, held his hands up. “He didn’t mean it to be insulting, Ace.”
“Yes, I did,” Trigger countered lazily, not bothered at all that he had a two-hundred-and-fifty pound psychopath staring at him with a challenge in his eyes.
Ace pointed at Grayson. “Give me ‘Footloose’ on the speakers.”
Grayson blinked at him, completely bewildered. “So you can prove to this small town that dancing isn’t the problem?”
“So I can teach you all the steps. It’s a beginner line dance.”
Trigger laughed so hard he clutched his stomach.
I stood up, holding on to my snake head when it wobbled. “I’m in. Maybe I can incorporate it into my routine.” I gave an experimental heel-toe kick and wondered how hard that would be in ice skates.
Grayson waved us back into our seats. “No more talking about line dancing or zombies. Christ, I don’t get paid enough for this.”
“You don’t get paid at all,” Trig reminded him.
Grayson shot his brother a look. “Thanks for pointing that out. Helpful as always. If nobody has any further questions—”
I raised my hand.
“That aren’t about the zombie apocalypse,” Grayson said dryly.
I lowered my hand.
“Then I’m calling the meeting done. There’s some banana bread Kara made by the door if anyone wants a snack before you leave.” He sighed heavily. “For the next meeting can we actually think about the questions I sent you all? Maybe do some actual therapy work? Just a thought.”
We all patted Grayson on the back as we passed him, and he nodded, accepting our silent gratitude for putting up with us.
We made a mockery of his meetings far too often, but I hoped he realized how grateful we were for them.
They actually did help, even when we went off on walking dead tangents.
Gray was the reason half of us weren’t leaving a trail of dead bodies in our wakes, and now that I had a family to go home to at night, keeping that urge to kill at bay was more important than ever.
Landing myself in prison was not an option when I had my kids and my woman and my…
Levi and Whip, waiting for me to come home each night.
My stomach rumbled as the smell of Kara’s banana bread permeated through the mesh. “Come to snakey,” I mumbled, pulling off the mascot head.
A white envelope fell out of it and onto the floor at my feet.
The hum of conversation around me ceased instantly.
Everyone stared at the offending piece of stationery.
Levi’s voice was ice when he spoke. “What the fuck is that?”
I picked it up. “Oh, I forgot about that! The postman delivered it as I was leaving the house. I stashed it in my head for safekeeping.”
Whip stared at it like it was a harbinger of doom. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
I squinted at the paper in my hand. “It looks like a letter.” I gave it a little shake and then winked at Whip. “Probably fan mail. After I did that backflip on the ice last week, I’ve been expecting this.”
Whip folded his arms across his chest, gaze still trained on the envelope in my fingers. “Falling backward and surviving by accident isn’t a backflip.”
I made a face at him. “It had flair!”
Levi rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, ignoring both of us. “That looks exactly like the letters we got when we had a crazy person hunting us.”
“Well, shit.” I turned the letter over in my hands. “It does too. But Francine is dead…”
The way everyone stared at the envelope in my hand told me they were all no longer sure that mattered.
“Open it,” Whip said gruffly. “Just get it over with so we know what we’re dealing with. Fucking hell, I don’t know if my blood pressure can survive a copycat.”
“Your cholesterol level shouldn’t have survived that burger you ate last night either, but hey, you’re still kicking.”
Whip glared at me, just like he always did when I made old man jokes at his expense.
It wasn’t my fault he was so ancient.
“Just read the letter, X,” he sighed.
I nodded and ripped it open, reading the words printed in the middle of the page. My mouth pulled into a grim line. “There’s been a murder,” I said eventually.
Levi groaned. “Fucking hell. Who? Where?”
I looked up, and slowly a grin spread across my face. “Those are exactly the right questions to be asking!” I turned the paper around and showed it to them. “We’ve been invited to a murder mystery party!”