Mateo
The arcade is a blast from the past with a carpet full of colorful geometric shapes and a smell like dirty socks and fake cheese sauce.
A young girl with a gem on her front tooth sells me some tokens, and I split them up between me and Cooper.
"Which one first?" he asks.
"Definitely that one," I say, pointing to Metal Slug.
After several rounds where we take turns beating each other, we let another couple guys take over the game. I don't know the last time I had this much fun. Maybe I'll try to drag Addie here next week. Back when I was a rookie, I used to come home in the off-season for a few weeks. I'd always take her to a wing place that had Skee-Ball and pinball machines. She'd beat me at Skee-Ball every time. I bet she still could. I wonder if she remembers? She was so young.
We play a few rounds and I beat Coop. Okay, I let him win twice. When the Mortal Kombat machine is finally free, we beeline for it.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I hold up a finger for him to give me a minute. Coop puts all but the last token needed in the game and waits.
I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Storm Cloud calling scrolls across the screen.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Eyes open," Jade says.
"Hello?" I say again.
"He didn't," says Addie.
"Hello-o?"
"Swear to God, but I still think your mama's boy from last year takes the win for weird. I still can't believe he thought that would work."
Addie laughs, "I totally forgot about him. Who brings their mom on a date?"
It's a fucking butt dial. I should hang up, but I'm far too curious.
"Fucking boys," Jade says.
"Right, who needs 'em? Fuck them," Addie adds.
"I agree. Boys suck."
There's some shuffling, and then the line goes dead.
I tap out a text.
Boys do suck, try a man instead|
I delete it and try again.
Boys aren't worth your energy, give it to me|
Nope. Delete. One more time.
If you ever want to stop playing with boys, you knowwhere to find me|
"Let's go, Gramps," Cooper says, pulling my attention from my phone.
"You're going down punk," I say and place my phone face down between our joysticks. Maybe by the time we're done kicking each other's asses, I'll have thought of a way to woo his mother. Or royally piss her off. It could go either way.
