she sighed. “Of course you are.”
“Yeah, a few months now,” Kane remarked, picking up one of the long rifles attached by a cable to the booth’s main counter. “Rules are the same, Mick. I shoot a few rounds, maybe get something tiny and ugly, and you ooh and aah over it.”
“How ugly?” Miki studied the plastic-wrapped stuffed animals clipped to the booth’s inner posts. “Because some of those are so scary.”
“Tradition,” Kane insisted, hefting the rifle, then doing something Morgan-ish by looking down its length. “Usually you end up spending more money playing the game than the prize is worth.”
“True,” the booth girl said loudly, raising her voice to be heard over the increasing noise. “Here’s a hint. Aim to the left a bit. After that, it’s all on you.”
“Here, hold my water,” Kane said, wiping his damp hand on his jeans. “And give me a kiss for good luck. These games suck.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I’d be a shitty husband if I didn’t at least try,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss from Miki’s lips. “You’ve seen that ugly pink dog thing my mom has tucked into her china cabinet? Da won that for her when they were first stepping out. It’s one of the things you do. Like sharing french fries or walking on a pier together. You eat hot dogs, almost throw up in a garbage can, and one of you wins something hideous from a booth and you keep it forever because… you just do.”
“Well, try to win me something less ugly than what Brigid’s got.” Miki stepped back, shaking his head. “Because that thing she’s got gives me nightmares. I thought it was some kind of demon-summoning doll she picked up at an Irish witch shop and she just hasn’t figured out who to use it on yet.”
He tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but something in Kane’s eagerness tickled Miki. His cop wanted to do this, wanted to give Miki an experience he’d probably had countless times before and still was as entranced by the whole fair atmosphere as he’d been when he was a kid. Kane’s happiness was infectious, a freefall of delight Miki rarely let himself delve into. Standing in a surging sea of cotton candy perfume and crackling noise, it was easy to be caught up in the sheer brightness of it all, and for once, Miki simply let himself go, slipping into Kane’s normally difficult world with a surprising ease.
It was nice.
More than nice.
Outside of the band, Miki never felt like he belonged. Yet standing in front of a booth of stuffed animals, clanging ducks, and flashing lights with the guy he made room in his heart for, life felt really damned fucking good. It was a music he’d never heard before. Not really. It didn’t peel off layers of his skin or scratch an itch in his blood, but still there was something satisfying about just being with Kane and watching duck after duck squeal and squawk as they flipped back from being shot.
“How many do you have to shoot to win something?” Miki was careful not to lean in too close. It seemed like the gun was shooting large red BBs, and he picked one up from the small cup Kane had in front of him. “And how many did you get?”
“Fifty bucks worth,” Kane answered, pulling the trigger without glancing at Miki. A duck died with a prolonged quack, and he grinned, his eyes bright with excitement. “Want to try?”
“Nope. I’ll end up shooting my foot or something. Win me something cool. Or better yet, win me something wicked looking.”
“I’m going for that one over there. The brown thing with the heart on its T-shirt.” He nodded toward a swaddled plush animal stapled to the back of the booth. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s the same color as Dude. Figured it had that going for it.”
Kane drew a crowd with each chiming bell and squeaking duck he hit. Pressed into the corner, the booth attendant harangued and cajoled the passing stream of people to try their luck and earn a prize. Miki lost count of the score as Kane worked to earn the bagged plush, but the glittered-up girl did not, calling out periodically to Kane from where she stood. The night cooled a bit, and with a final red BB, Kane flattened his last water fowl and set the rifle down.
“The brown one, right?” She pulled out what looked