her and not because I want to hold her hand. Sure. “It’s cute.”
“It’ll come off, right?”
“In the next wash or two, yeah.” Paintball ammo is water-based; she’s gotta know that.
I ease my hands back, but she snatches my left wrist. Her eyes skate over the pink and white paint spatter covering my palm, and my eyes skate over her face—the pull of her brows, the frayed hair spilling from her Troublemakers cap, and that damn freckle.
A lump forms in my throat, and I force a swallow around it.
“You’ll probably need ten washes,” she teases, releasing my hand… and me from whatever trance that was.
“Good thing pink is my color.”
She knocks my shoulder with hers, and a round of screams sound through the Zombie Zone. I lift my eyes to the screens hanging above the theater entrance. They’ve gotten to the big boss zombie. I hop from my stool and get ready to let them out while Candace preps the next group.
We’ve got a good groove going here. Candace and I have worked with each other enough to know who’s best where, and since she’s a stickler for the rules, she’s got the introduction to the theater rules memorized, while I usually wing it and forget something important. I’m much better with letting them in and out, announcing the high-score and giving the winner a ticket for a free ice cream at the snack shop.
We weren’t even supposed to work together today… or any day this week minus tomorrow. But she switched her schedule around so we’ve spent every day together since Wednesday. I’ve been pulling doubles to keep some of my weekend open for her lessons, so I’m pretty much dead on my feet.
But the six hours I get with her on the clock haven’t been so bad. Entertaining at the very least, and hilarious at the very most.
The red light that indicates zombie killing is a go flashes, telling me that it’s time to pop in and get the theater cleared out. I pull my mic back into place.
“Good job, survivalists,” I say, my enhanced voice booming over all the laughter and chatter. Smiles adorn most of the faces, including the high-scorer—a preteen girl the size of Demi with a grin just as large. “You defeated the big bad Zombie Santa before he could deliver a gruesome Christmas. Yeah!”
I high-five a kid in the front row, and cheers and laughter fill the room. It’s a good group.
“Should we see who our top scorer is?” I say, taking a few steps back from the screen. The reel plays back the last thirty seconds of the game. When the zombie crashes to the ground, a snapshot of the girl fills the screen.
A few defeated groans echo around me, but they are cut short with the booming cheers from the girl’s friends—or from what it looks like, siblings. An older brother and sister, leaning over their seats to wrap her up in a hug. Shock and excitement fill her big eyes, and I’m a damn softy, wishing suddenly I had Demi and Mad in here, too.
“Congratulations, survivor,” I say, walking to the second row, second seat in. I reach over her brother and hand the free ice cream ticket, and with the look on her face, it’s like I handed her the key to the city. “Enjoy the spoils.”
Her brother squeezes her tight—he’s gotta be fifteen, sixteen at the most. I finish addressing the group as a whole, instructing them on how to holster their guns and how to exit in an orderly fashion out the left side of the theater. But my brain is on the winner and her siblings, and I wonder if they’ve got good parents out there waiting for them. If maybe their parents paid for them to be here. If they don’t have to worry about holiday presents, rent, bills, groceries…
The slam of the door shakes me from my head, and I blink a few times. I quickly sanitize the seats while Candace preps the new group just outside the entrance. Huh… her voice is a bit off—a little shaky… and high-pitched. I snort when I hear her mispronounce the word “Santa,” calling him “Sinta.”
I flick on the go ahead light when I’ve sprayed the last seat down, and the door on the right opens. A group of varied ages enters one by one, filing in to fill the seats. I don’t pay too much attention, my feet eager to get out of here and make fun