Page 118 of Rough

He clapped his hands together. “Any questions?”

We looked at each other, shrugged simultaneously, and both said “no” at the same time.

As we walked out of the office, Brad looked at me and laughed. “I can’t believe that asshole is making me fix your car.”

I chuckled. “I can’t believe he’s giving you your BB gun back.”

“I can,” he said. “He knows I’m a man now.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“It’s a secret,” he said. “Between him and me.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Pee Bee

She laughed until I thought she was going to pee her pants. After catching her breath, she looked up. “Really?”

I flipped her my middle finger. “It’s a fucking word.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You went to college, right?”

“Fuck off, kid,”

“P-I-G,” she said. “Six points.”

“A word’s a word. And six points is six points.”

“We’re playing for stakes. And, they’re high. Don’t you want to win?”

I didn’t. I really didn’t. “I’m trying babe. I really am.”

But, I wasn’t.

“Okay,” she said.

She studied the tiles on her rack, twisted her mouth to the side, and then burst out laughing.

Using an existing U, she spelled a word using all her letters. After she placed the tiles down on the board, I looked at her in disbelief. “What the fuck is that?”

“That, my dear, is a word worth enough to seal my win, I’m afraid. And, it’s nothing short of a miracle that I had those letters. Truth be told, it sends chills down my spine to spell it.”

I stared at it. M-U-Z-J-I-K. It made no sense. “You’re making shit up, now. You’ve been challenged.”

“A muzjik,” she said “Is a Russian peasant.”

“And if it isn’t in the dictionary, you’re going to be an American peasant.”

I grabbed the dictionary, flipped through the pages, and found the word. She was right, a muzjik was a Russian peasant. Aggravated, I considered throwing the dictionary down – just to be a shit - but remembered it was fifty years old.

I placed it in the box carefully, then stood. I took a bow. “Turn relinquished, my dear.”

“Thank you, honorable sir.”

In ten minutes, the game was over. After tallying up the points, she declared the score. “502-312”

“Ouch,” I said. “That bad?”