Page 22 of Existential
“Surprise you, does it?”
I suck back on my smoke, eyeing her through the clouds I then puff out. “Not in the slightest.”
She seems pleased with my answer, wheeling in silence for a bit more.
“Why the transient lifestyle?”
“Why the interest?” She frowns.
“Call it mutual benefits.”
Her brow pinches harder and she stops walking, placing the barrow on its feet. “What else could I have that you’d need?”
“Separation from my club.”
Realization dawns on her features as her brow smoothes out and her eyes widen. “No. No way. I’m not getting involved in anything you—”
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”
“You don’t have to.” She snatches the barrow up and starts marching at twice the speed as before. “I’m doing this job for you, and then I’m gone.”
“Who’s to say the favor I need is a bad one?” I call after her.
She stills, dumping the barrow again, and spins around. “This whole place does.” Her feet are light as she moves toward me at speed, tapping my one percenter badge when she gets close enough. “As does this. I know what it means.”
“Yeah? What do you think it means, fairy?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Give me a name then.”
Her nose crinkles adorably, making her even more like a wee forest creature. “Ugh. I can’t believe you’re that ignorant that after a week you don’t know it.”
Not ignorant—busy. Still hits me like a sucker punch to the gut that I really am that fucking rude.
I track her back to the barrow, not ready to let up on her yet. The fire’s just started in this petite package; she’s got a while to go yet before it burns out and leaves her hurt. She sucks in a sharp breath as I duck around her and stand between where she stops and the handles of the barrow.
“Hi,” I say, jutting my hand out. “I’m Hooch.”
“But is that your real name?” She folds her arms, head cocked to the side. Funny girl.
“Clearly not.”
“Then, hi, I’m Fairy.” She thrusts her hand in mine.
Got to love her. “Touché, darlin’.”
Her lips quirk up on one side, her eyes alight. “Fair’s fair, Hooch.”
She steps around me, squeezing in to grab the barrow, and starts down the driveway again. I spin around, watching her go, the sass in her step, and fold.
“Josiah. My real name is Josiah.”
She pauses, looks over her shoulder, and smiles. “I can see why you’d adopt another name then.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t quite have that badass ring to it, does it?” I smile as I approach, sure that we’ve passed the first hurdle.
“No. Not really.” She jerks her head toward the gates. “Let’s walk, Josiah.”