Page 248 of ClickBack

I laugh quietly and set the frame back where it was.

Giselle comes downstairs in dark jeans and a wine-colored top. She has put on the gold earrings from San Antonio. I watch them move when she turns to get her bag.

“What?” she asks.

“Come here.”

“After you tell me whether these shoes will do.”

I glance at her sneakers. “They’ll do.”

She walks over, and I touch one earring with my fingertip. “These, too.”

“I thought so.”

I kiss her below it. She smells like the lotion she keeps beside her dresser, and I have to remind myself we have somewhere to go.

She guesses twice on the drive. Bowling, then dinner at a place whose name she can’t remember but whose parking arrangements have apparently offended her before.

“You can tell me if I need cash for a valet.”

“You’re not paying a valet.”

“I like to be prepared.”

“I have money, Zel.”

“So do I. That wasn’t my question.”

I take her hand from the console and kiss it. She watches me with a smile she is trying to keep small, then turns toward the window. When Replay Social comes into view, she sits forward.

“You brought me back.”

“Figured you’d been talking about that win long enough.”

She looks at me. “You booked a flight over one point?”

“I booked a flight over you. Still want my rematch.”

Graves has arranged the last session on the game floor for us. The manager meets us at the side entrance and takes us past the dining area, where a couple of employees are clearing tables. Giselle thanks him, then waits until he is out of earshot to turn toward me.

“You rented the place.”

“Part of it.”

“Jarrett.”

“I wanted a night with you.”

Her gaze moves across the empty lanes. The machines are lit, waiting. She slips her bag off her shoulder and hands it to me.

“Then you can carry this while I embarrass you.”

Skee-ball goes exactly the way she predicted. She starts with a couple of bad rolls, gets the next one in the corner, then puts together a score I spend my whole turn failing to catch. She leans against the divider with her arms folded and lets me finish.

“You’ve been practicing,” I tell her.

“In my secret arcade.”