It’s crowded tonight and I search the room for a place to sit. The door opens behind me.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Finn groans.
“Oh, I see a spot.” I point to an open place at a table and hurry across the room. “Come on, Finnley,” I shout.
Another groan comes from behind me and I snicker. This should be entertaining to say the least. Finn’s surly arse and bingo, I imagine it’s about as contradictory as the Pope at a strip club. Chapter Twelve
Finn
"I-77..."
Fuck this.
Iroll my eyes as I sink down in the metal chair. There's all these old-fucking-people sitting around us. The man next to meis slouched in his chair, head thrown back, mouth open.I stare at him for a minute thinking he's dead and then he snorts, waking himself. He sits up and wipes thedrool from his chin beforesmiling at me.I nod and look away.
This entire place smells like moth balls andpotpourriand cheap wine.Hope's hoveringover her fifteen bingo boards she has spread out on the table.
"N-64. N-64." The announcer calls out.
"Bullshit," Hope huffs. "Fucking bullshit,Finnley."
God, I wish she'd stop calling me that.She drops her little stamper thing and bends over to pick it up. I can't help but stare at her arse. That fucking skirt is short and damn—she bends a little lower—fuck my life I can see arse cheek. My cock jumps a little and I adjust in the seat as I drag my eyes away from her.She may be annoying as all fuck, but she has an arse on her. That's for damn sure.
"B-16. B-16."
Hope stamps one of her squares, hissingYes under her breath. I lean over my card, place my elbows on the table, and drag my hands through my hair. Before I know it, Hope's swatting my arm away. "Did you even check your bingo card?" she asks, staring at the crinkled laminate.
"No."
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Fuck's sake," she says with a groan before she stamps three squares. "B-16. N-44. And G-69." She glares at me. "How the fuck are you going to miss G-69?"
I glare at her. How and why in the hell does she even like this shit? Listening to some old croon hacking out some numbers, stamping a little red dot on numbers and for what—
"Bingo!" A woman shouts and Hope throws her head back on a groan.
"Fucking hell." Hope shakes her head as she eyes the old woman shuffling to the front of the room with herwalker. Herlittle bingo card raised in the air like a trophy."I swear, Opal sold her soul to the devil. She always wins."
I watch as the announcer hands the woman one of those plaques with the animatronic fish tacked to it—the one that sings that god awful song.
"Of course, Billy the fucking fish. Of course fucking Opalwouldwin that prize."
I cut my eyes over at Hope. "What would you want withthatshit?"
Hereyeswidenand sheclutches herhand to her chestlike I'vejustbroken herheart. "Thatis art.Why wouldn'tyou want it?"
"Youcan'tbeserious."
Shelifts aneyebrow and grins."I wasgoingto giveit to you."
"Yeah, no thanks."Iswipe myhand over my faceand push back from the table."Can wegonow, have I paid mydues for thelasagne?"
"You're boring, you know it?"
I scowl at her. "You're annoying."
"You know, you're a bit of a dick." Istare down at her and she grins. "All quiet and mysterious and a raging dick."
I can't deal with her. She's loud and fucking brash.I stand up and she scowls at me."Finnley, where do you think you are going?"
