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“How does he like his coffee?”
“Um—” Shit. I scratched my forehead, remembering seeing more than one kind. “Oh, right—it depends. Black when he’s tired, otherwise with milk—oh, and decaf after six.”
Ding!
Holy hell, I hadn’t anticipated my heart pounding like this.
“How many siblings does Roe have?”
“Two biological, plus five cousins he grew up with and refers to as his brothers.”
So far, a ding after every question. I fucking got this.
“What is the one thing Roe is terrified of?”
“Wait, what? He’s afraid of a lot of things. But I guess spiders top the list.”
I even heard Roe’s groaned laughter from inside the booth at that one. Sorry for throwing you under the bus, buddy.
“What country is Roe’s favorite food from?”
“Mexico.” Zero doubt.
“What’s his dream destination for a nature documentary?”
Aw, I had to smile there. “Patagonia.” We’d get there one day. Norway was our close second.
“What was Roe’s first job?”
“Afternoon shift at a bodega,” I replied.
“In the early 1900s, Roe’s ancestors came to America from which country?”
“Scotland.”
“Where in New York did Roe grow up?”
“Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.”
“Has Roe ever been involved in sports? If so, which ones?”
“Nothing organized, but he played a lot of basketball and baseball with his friends.”
“When did—” The buzzer cut Bailey off, and the audience applauded. “That’s sixty seconds! Talk about impressive—Jake got a full score! You can return to your booth, and we will be right back after this!”
Jesus Christ. I blew out a breath and rose from the chair.
Roe was on his way out of the booth when I got there, and we bumped fists.
“You killed it, man. I’m feeling the pressure.”
“Good luck. If you fail once or twice, I won’t be sorry.” That clearly meant I was the better friend.
Roe laughed and headed for the Hot Seat.
I stepped into the booth and got comfortable farthest in. It was a little warmer in here, but the fan above my head should offer some relief. I took a swig of my water and eyed the tools we had to work with. Two notepads, pens, and two small whiteboards. We’d completed a test round earlier, so I knew what kinds of puzzles and questions we could anticipate. The topics varied greatly, from geography and entertainment to science and math, with friendship-focused challenges added to go with the theme.
Yesterday, Roe and I had watched two older episodes too. There’d been a cook-off at one point, so they definitely knew how to mix it up on the show.
As everyone got ready for Roe’s round in the Hot Seat, I rested my forearms on the desk and willed myself to relax. The hardest part was over, I hoped.
“Welcome back to Know Your BFF!” Bailey announced. “It’s Roe’s turn in the Hot Seat, and his buddy Jake sure set the bar high with a top score. Are you ready, Roe?”
“Absolutely,” Roe said. He sat forward a bit and gripped the sides of the chair. With his back to me, I couldn’t read his expression, but I knew what a concentrated and determined Roe Finlay looked like.
“Sixty seconds on the timer!” Bailey requested. “What is Jake’s favorite color?”
“It varies, but he’s a sucker for green,” Roe answered.
Correct.
“What was the first CD he bought?”
“Get a Grip by Aerosmith.”
“Does he play any instruments?”
“Guitar and piano, allegedly.”
I smirked.
“What was his nickname in the Marines?” Bailey asked.
Oh shit. Would Roe rememb—
“The Cameraman—well, it became that in the last two years of his service,” Roe said.
Damn, I was impressed.
“What year did Jake get his first camera?”
“Oh, I know this. He, uh…” He snapped his fingers, presumably racking his brain. “He was nine or—no, yes, nine. Uh, 1992.”
Ding!
“Has Jake ever been involved in sports? If so, which ones?”
“Football—didn’t last long,” Roe responded quickly.
“Briefly describe Jake’s first published work.”
“It was a single photo—a journalist from the BBC picked it up, a picture of a Marine carrying a child to safety.”
“How does Jake take his coffee?”
“Black like his soul.”
I laughed.
Bailey chuckled. “Where’s Jake’s favorite food from?”
My amusement morphed into curiosity, and I pinched my lips together.
“Aw man, he’s more nuanced than me. He loves island food and Mexican. Mexico and, uh…gah. Wait! Puerto Rico! That’s it! Mexico and Puerto Rico.”
Nailed it.
“Has Jake ever dropped out of college?”
“Uhh…”
Come on, buddy.
Roe scratched the side of his head. “I, no…no. No. He doesn’t have a full degree, but he’s taken classes, and no, he did not drop out.”
“How many baseball caps does he own?” Bailey asked.
“Two million—no, I’m kidding. Crap. Uh, maybe thirty?”
Close, but twenty-six.
“Does he collect anything else?”
“Yeah,” Roe laughed. “He saves napkins from local diners when we’re off shooting Nomads.”
I smiled faintly and rubbed the back of my neck.
“Where in Florida does Jake’s grandmother live?”
“Outside Fort Myers.”
The buzzer went off the second the last word had left Roe’s mouth, and I let out a sigh of relief. He’d done well. Nobody could blame him for not knowing how many ball caps I had. Christ.
