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“Why’d you need stitches?”
“I was twelve. JD dared me to leap over the stairs in front of our school on my bike. I crashed and hit my chin.”
“And the second time?”
He pauses before replying, “Another accident. Teen boys are prone to that.”
“What happened?”
He turns away dismissively. “It was stupid shit.”
“What kind of stupid shit?”
He doesn’t respond right away.
“I can imagine some pretty stupid shit,” I offer.
He looks a little exasperated but says, “I accidentally shot myself with a gun.”
My eyes widen. “What were you doing with a gun?”
“It wasn’t mine. It belonged to a bodyguard.”
“You had a bodyguard?”
“My father was paranoid that year. But my mom had the bodyguard fired after what happened.”
I’m curious to know what prompted his father’s paranoia, but that might be a sensitive subject, so I ask, “Were you hurt badly?”
“Bullet went into my leg.”
“How did that happen?”
“The safety wasn’t on the gun. I was fooling around, the gun fell to the ground and went off.”
I gasp. “You were lucky the bullet didn’t land anyplace worse.”
H grins. “There was a moment when my mom lit into me that I wished the bullet had hit me in a worse place.”
“I can see that about your mom. She’s a tough lady. I like her.”
I’m not entirely sure Sharon Lee returns the sentiment, however. She was nice to me after the brawl and accompanied me and Darren to the clinic where I got my stitches, but I’ve caught her looking at me oddly a few times, like I’m some strange zoo creature.
“You ready?” Darren asks me. “Our bags are in the car already.”
“Our bags?” I echo. “Aren’t you staying an extra week?”
“Why would I want to? Mok left, so I can’t break his nose a second time.”
I grab my purse and we walk out of the cabin. “You were able to change your flight?”
“It was easy.”
“Well, we’ll be flying in separate parts of the plane. I had Cheryl downgrade my flight to economy.”
“You think my manager wouldn’t have told me that?”
“Hope you like it in coach then.”
