Page 48 of Thrown into the Mob

Conrad looked up from the thriller that he'd picked up at the secondhand store downstairs. He'd been frowning at it for two hours and mumbling, “That’s not right,” and “That would never work,” and “Ridiculous. I could write a better book than this.”

“Out where?”

"The movies."

He closed the book and marked the page with a scrap of paper. “A cinema.” He said it as if going to a movie theater was a unique experience, which gave me a hint that he’d never been to one.

“Let me guess. This would be your first time.”

“And you would be right.”

I was enjoying experiencing all his firsts, though they came with a tinge of sadness because my mate hadn’t participated in so many activities that I thought of as everyday experiences.

“Get your shoes on.”

He didn't move immediately, and I didn’t need to ask what he was thinking. Pinging in his head would be the enclosed space, limited exits, and a dark room full of strangers.

Ranger would do it and scoff that we weren’t putting ourselves in danger. Hunter would go without thinking, and Flint would shrug and say, “Go at your own risk.”

“What's showing?”

“I have no idea, but that’s part of the experience. You get there, look at what's on, and pick one.”

Conrad tilted his head. “It’d be more efficient to check what’s on before we go.”

I tugged at my pockets. “If we go out and grab a ‘what’s on around town’ leaflet, we may as well go to the movie theater.”

The cinema was six blocks away, and we weren’t in a hurry to get there as we had no idea of the screening times. We peered in a clothing shop window because while Conrad was happy to wash and wear the same clothes, I needed a change. But I left that for another day.

When we reached the corner, I made to walk across the road, but my mate pulled me back, saying I didn’t check both ways. Both of us had shifter reflexes, so I was certain I could have jumped out of the way of a car that was fifty yards away.

When we reached the movie theater, I experienced a thrill. Going to the movies in the middle of the day was something people like me did if they took a sick day. And I liked it.

There was a yawning teenager behind the ticket counter. There were two screens, neither of them showing anything I recognized. One was a subtitled drama about a fisherman and the other was an action film with a poster featuring a man holding a gun sideways.

Conrad studied the poster. “That grip is wrong. He'd break his wrist.”

“We're seeing the fisherman movie because if we watch the action film you'll spend two hours pointing out errors and I'll lose my mind.”

He made a face but eventually nodded which I guessed meant I was right.

I bought the tickets and steered him to the concessions counter where a woman was scrolling on her phone. The popcorn machine was churning behind her, and the smell of it reminded me of when Grandpa visited us when I was a kid. He loved the cinema, and he’d take me and Treyton on the weekend.

My wolf wasn’t fussed about buttery popped corn kernels, but Conrad's dragon must have been intrigued because my mate’s nostrils flared and a tiny wisp of smoke escaped. I hustled him away before going back for the popcorn, otherwise the fire alarm would go off and our movie date would be ruined.

I asked for two medium-sized popcorn, but Conrad mouthed, “One large because we can share.”

Those words slammed into me, and I didn’t understand why. I was getting sentimental over shared popcorn, and I blinked away tears while ordering drinks.

The theater was almost empty which wasn’t surprising because it was a weekday afternoon. There was a couple near the front, an older man on his own near the middle, and us. Conrad chose seats at the back against the wall. We needed to be able to see the exits. I looked at the other people and wondered what it would be like not having to do that, just going where and when we wanted.

The seats creaked when we sat down as the screen showed ads for a local dentist, car wash, and a pizza place.

“The laundromat should advertise and say something like, ‘Offer me pots of money and I’ll get out of your way for an hour. You can fold laundry to your heart's desire.’” There was nothing about Conrad’s tone that suggested he was joking, but he was smirking.

I sniggered, and the older man turned around and shushed us.

My mate leaned toward me and placed his lips on my ear. “The dentist that’s advertising appears to have a very aggressive approach to whitening.”