Page 48 of Kings Have No Mercy
“Or how about that zombie in the background?” I sit up as I point at the screen. “He’slaughing. Great professional acting right there.”
“Told you. It’s so bad it’s good.”
We spend the next half hour laughing at all the bad things in the film. Our criticisms range from zombies forgetting they’re the undead and can’t talk to a shot where a sound stage guy is briefly caught on camera, then scurries off out of the picture. Probably worst of all is the main couple deciding it’s the perfect time to have sex in the woods when they’re on the run from a horde of zombies, only to get caught and then eaten in graphic detail.
Mason and I bust out laughing as the guy dies with his dick out and pants around his ankles. The girl scrambles, trying to get away, running topless with such dramatic flair that I declare her the best actor in the entire film.
“You smoking something?” Mason asks, raising a brow.
I bite away my next laugh. “C’mon, she was pretty good! You give her some training, she’ll be Oscar-nominated in no time!”
“She’s good at screaming and running with her tits out. That’s about it.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t know talent when you see it.”
“I do. I mentioned the tits.”
Our pizza arrives toward the end of the third act. Mason gets up and answers the door.
It’s as I’m left alone on the couch that I remember the circumstances for the first time in a while—another crack of thunder sounds, and I flinch as if it’s a threat waged against me.
My heart starts racing again. I sit still and urge myself to chill.
Calm the hell down, Syd. You’re fine.
Mason returns with the pizza box and wings in hand. He’s also grabbed some beer. He sets everything down on the coffee table in front of us and reclaims his cushion next to mine.
At first, I assume he’ll return his attention to the film—the girl with the nice titties has finally found a shirt and is hitchhiking to safety as the sole survivor—but I’m wrong.
Mason flips open the large pizza box and grabs a slice. “So what’s your problem with thunderstorms?”
I’ve reached for a slice of pizza too, though I freeze as he asks. “There’s no problem. I… I just don’t like bad weather.”
“You know I just saw you flinch, right? Something bad happen to you during a thunderstorm?”
Yes…
I swallow hard. “They just make me uncomfortable.”
“And you hide under blankets?” he says slowly, chewing on his pizza. He takes several swigs of beer in between.
“I was trying to go to sleep.” I finish grabbing my slice of pizza and force myself to take a bite despite the fact that I feel like I’m chewing on greasy cardboard. I’m exposed and defenseless, two of the worst things to be in the presence of Mason Cutler.
“Bullshit, Syd.”
I choke on my bite of cheesy, grease-soaked cardboard. “Bullshit… what?”
“You werehidingunder those covers. I saw you.”
“Why do you care to know? So you can make fun of me for it? You want to hear about how I’m so pathetic I hide when I hear thunder and heavy rain? I guess it’s another chance to humiliate me.”
“When did I say that?”
“When have you ever not made me feel that way?”
We fall silent to a beat of tension between us. I can feel the shake in my voice, dangerous territory considering it means I’m emotional. Mason sits leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his pizza slice in hand. He takes another bite and then sets it down inside the open box.
“Look, I’ve been an asshole,” he admits. “I’m not denying it. You’re not my favorite person, and I’m willing to bet, I’m not yours. Pretty sure if either of us could get away with it, we’d run the other off a cliff. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna see you in a rough spot and use it against you.”