I grinned.
Swift pointed at me.“Not a word.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t.”
I lifted both hands.
Across the room, Gramps snorted himself half awake, blinked at nothing, muttered, “I ain’t paying for that,” and immediately fell back asleep.
Everyone froze.
Goldie slowly turned toward him.“What do you think he is dreaming about?”
“No one knows,” Tempi said.
“No one wants to know,” Twister added.
Gramps snored again, louder this time.
Britta raised her glass toward him.“Rest easy, king.”
Hodge laughed so hard he almost dropped his pool cue.
For a little while, the clubhouse felt almost normal.
Less than two days ago, Goldie had been running for her life.Last night, the club had been cleaning up bullet holes.Today, we’d found out The Ledger had been inside her apartment.They’d stolen her things, and she was still holding back the location of a second set of copies from Twister.
We were sitting on a pile of dynamite with a lit match nearby.
And yet, right then, Britta was laughing, Tempi was mixing questionable drinks, Hodge was threatening Podge over pool, Gramps was snoring like heavy machinery, and Goldie was smiling.
Goldie took another sip, then coughed.
Tempi winced.“Okay.That one might be a little strong.”
“A little?”Goldie wheezed.
Britta patted her back.“Welcome to the club.”
“Is this how initiation works?”
“No,” Tempi said.“Initiation involves less vodka and more regrettable dancing.”
Goldie shook her head.“I don’t dance.”
Britta gasped, and Tempi looked personally offended.
“You don’t dance?”Tempi asked.
“No.”
“Ever?”
