Page 132 of Silent Damage

“You trained at the Kitty Cat Club?” I ask.

Jason nods. “Yeah, we had to get through the maze in the dark while HellCats shot paintballs at us.”

“Paintballs?” I ask.

“Yeah, you know…just in case,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

In case he gets ambushed on a job…

I push that thought out of my mind and say, “Paintballs hurt like hell. I got hit in the ass once and couldn’t sit for a week.”

“A whole week?” he asks. “I’m shocked. Your ass can handle a lot from what I’ve experienced.” He grips my butt hard, making me yelp.

Well, that was embarrassing.

Together, we stroll to the entrance to buy tickets. “I got this,” he says. “Tobias gave us a little cash as an advance.”

He pays for the tickets, and I fight to ignore the light and fizzy feeling bubbling inside me.

We enter the carnival, and the place is wild. The creepy music is deafening, and kids dart past us in all directions.

It’s a lot, to be honest, and just as I’m about to suggest we grab a soda and sit, Jason yells. “BUMPER CARS!” He points at them in total disbelief. “They didn’t have these when we were kids,” he shrieks.

“No, they must be new.”

“Let’s go!” Jason literally runs to the bumper cars, faster than the kids who are at least ten years younger than him. He leaps over the divide and sprints to a red car. “Gabe! Get your ass in here!”

I rush over, laughing at the way he’s acting, and choose a black car.

The attendant closes the gate, an alarm rings, and the cars come to life.

Before I can even move, someone smashes into me, and I look back to see Jason smirking. “Asshole,” I scream.

He rams into me again.

Then again.

Soon, my car is wedged against the wall. “What the hell?” I holler at him

“You should be used to me ramming you from behind,” he says with a wink.

I manage to back the car up and push him away, giving me the space I need to escape. “Be careful, hotshot,” I say tauntingly. “I push back with a vengeance.” Then I soar to the opposite side of the floor.

The chase is on, the two of us treating this like it’s a battle for the ages, weaving around literal children while we scream ten times louder than they do.

Just as Jason’s about to smash into me again, the cars shut down, and the steady hum from the floor vanishes. “I could have had you,” he complains while slamming his fist on the steering wheel.

“Coulda, woulda, shoulda. You didn’t!”

“I’m gonna get you!” Jason snaps, jumping out of his car, but I leap out of mine faster, scale the divider surrounding the bumper cars, and take off.

He manages to catch up with me and gives me noogies. “Stop it,” I yell, laughing as he does it.

We playfully scuffle about the road that weaves through the dingy rides and fried food stands.

Everything feels better now that Jason is back. Colors are more vibrant, smells hit me harder, and even the macabre music of this weird carnival sounds a little more cheerful.

Jason finally relents and smiles in a way that makes my whole body ignite. Our chests heave as we catch our breaths and walk side by side in silence—our arms touching while the world passes by in a haze of lights and chatter.