Indigo
I spent the night with Sheila again, warm and snuggly in my blanket nest. Priest settled into his chair near Sheila’s door, never complaining as I lulled myself to sleep while singing “Wannabe.” I even thought I heard him humming along once or twice.
The next day, the Utah Crows left, and I felt comfortable enough to move back into the clubhouse.
A chocolate éclair waited for me at my door in the little white bag I’d come to look forward to every day.
I chose not to look too closely at who could be the person leaving me treats, believing that the mystery made the desserts taste sweeter.
Really, I was afraid to look too closely at the thoughtful gesture.
Worried that the giver might be showing me how he felt with his actions instead of his words, and what that would mean for me and the life I’d started to build here.
The Crows spent most of the day in church, most likely planning retaliation against the Iron Raiders and Pyro for the attack on the compound.
Prospect, who wasn’t an official Crow yet, kept me company.
He was a sweet guy, playing game after game of my elevated version of Go Fish with me at the bar without complaint.
We both sat at the bar with our piles of “currency” to bet with, which Prospect told me were called “stacks.” He shuffled the cards and dealt our next hand. “Two in the pot to start, Indi.”
“Go fish. Eights?”
“Go fish. Queens?”
Prospect groaned, handing me two Queens.
We went back and forth, holding all our cards in our hands and not setting down any sets.
Every third round, we upped the ante. What we placed in the middle varied depending on how many sets we had in our hands, and how many sets we thought the other might have.
Every fifth round, we had to stand and spin in a circle fifteen times just to keep things interesting.
When one of us thought we had as many sets of four as we could possibly get, we said, “Kenny Rogers!” Then we counted how many sets of four we held in our hands, and whoever held the most won the pot and the title of “The Gambler.” It was fast-paced and stupid fun.
We had just finished our third game, and I had a new-to-me pair of sunglasses plucked from my pile of winnings perched on top of my head as I shuffled the cards.
Prospect was laughing at a story of mine when Los Cuervos came through the saloon-style doors after their meeting.
Priest frowned slightly at us when he and Duke came through the doors, heading straight our way.
“Hey, guys! I invented Prospect’s favorite new game, which I’m really good at because I invented it. It’s like high-stakes Go Fish, and you’re looking at the current two-time game champion. Not to brag or anything. No offense, Prospect.”
“None taken,” Prospect said with a smile and a wink, earning him another frown from Priest.
“As fun as that sounds, darlin’, I’m gonna have to pass this time. Priest and I need to talk to Prospect.”
“While we were in church, the brothers discussed it and decided that you’ve proven yourself to the club,” Priest said. Prospect stood from his barstool and looked from Priest to Duke as if to confirm Priest’s words.
“Welcome to Los Cuervos, brother,” Duke said, clapping a smiling Prospect on the back.
“As your sponsor, Bear will patch you in on Saturday night, and we’ll have a party. You gotta road name in mind?”
“Wait—” I fumbled getting a fun-sized Snickers out of its wrapper. “I thought Prospect was your road name?” I was so confused.
“Prospect is what we call all prospective members of the club,” Duke explained. “Once you earn your place here, you earn your road name.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling stupid.
“If it makes you feel better, Indi, my birth name is Turner. You can call me that instead if you want until Saturday. Bear and I talked about it, and I’m gonna be patched in as Rook.”
“Rook it is,” Duke said. Blaze called out to Duke from across the room, and he left to talk to some of the old-timers.
“I’m gonna go find Bear,” Prospect, or Turner, said, sliding his winnings (three cigarettes, eight cookies, two condoms, a half-full bottle of nail polish, and three quarters) into the palm of his hand.
“Congratulations on your championship, Indigo,” he said with a smile and a nod.
His dark head turned as he looked for Bear and strode across the clubhouse.
“Congrats on the patch,” I called back.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Priest said tersely as I gathered my winnings.
“Well, now that Pyro is gone and Mindy left, there isn’t a person here I’m not at least friendly with. Those two were the only ones immune to my charms. Well, and you, but you came to your senses eventually. Should I not be Turner’s friend?”
“Of course you should. Forget I said anything,” Priest said awkwardly. He was being weird. Maybe his blood sugar was low?
“Want a lollipop? Or a slightly grubby Oreo? Turner was really gunning for my cookies. He won most of them off me in our first game, but I have a few left that I won back.” I picked through my pile of loot looking for cookies.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Priest plucked a lollipop from my stack. He unwrapped it and took Turner’s place at the bar. “So what kind of game did you invent and how can I get in on the action?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.
I shuffled the cards with a smirk. “Be careful, Priest. They don’t call me the two-time Go Fish Hold ’Em champ for nothing.”
“Shut up and deal, angel,” Priest said with a grin. “I’m gonna win that title and all those lollipops off you before the night’s over.”
“Buckle up, Growly Gus.” I grinned back, dealing the cards between us. Victory was sweet, and sometimes Priest kind of was, too.