Bone Diggers - Chapter Twenty Six

Loading... Chapter Twenty Six

"You're cheating." Amilia playfully accused as she handed Daniel her cards.

"Just because I'm a thief doesn't mean I'm dishonest," Daniel said as he shuffled the various suits of clubs, coins, cups, and swords. "Here, would you like to cut?"

Amilia smiled. Her hand hovered over the table as if to spoil his masterful plan. The second she committed to reaching down, Daniel pulled the deck back. "No, not that one," he teased.

Her laugh was echoed by the sound of a knock. That's when he knew this it was all over. No more hiding from the rest of the world and playing truc. He got up from the floor to answer the door and was met with a familiar face that surprised him far more than a stranger would have. "Ah, Lance," Daniel said. He blocked the door almost protectively with his body. "Hello."

"Ah, Daniel," Lance said, mocking his tone. Maybe not such a friendly face after all. "What were you thinking, running off with some girl for so long?"

"She isn't some girl."

Lance coughed out a laugh, and glanced away. "There were wanted posters for you all over town. You didn't even ask the guild for help. Didn't even tell me you were leaving. I was worried you were dead. Then, like smoke you appeared to do the guild's bidding."

The fact that Lance's voice wasn't raised made him feel so much worse. Pointing out that it had been Charlie's request, not the guild's, wouldn't make his friend feel any better.

"I'm sorry. I was in a rush."

"I don't want to hear excuses," Lance said, "You let her cloud your vision, and now you have to come with me."

"They sent you to get me?" Daniel swayed back before righting himself. "I'm not a wayward puppy."

"I volunteered," Lance corrected. "Believe me when I say I'm the one you wanted to show up." He paused, looking at Daniel with a funny little expression. "Why are you blocking the door?" Lance took a step forward to come in, and Daniel placed a hand against the doorway to block his path.

"Que cachez-vous?" Lance tilted his head to glance over Daniel's shoulder.

"I'm not hiding a thing," Daniel said purposely in Spanish.

The boys silently stared each other down for a moment before Lance broke the tension by pushing Daniel's arm away and walking inside. His steps ended abruptly when he spotted Amilia sitting on the couch. She lifted her head, and gave him a nervous smile. "My god," Lance said, "So, you're also alive."

"Daniel," Amilia said, hesitantly stealing a glance over to him. He had closed the door, and was awkwardly standing about until she called his name. Daniel sat down, and the simple touch of his hand seemed to reassure her.

Lance's lips parted at the gesture. It seemed like he wanted to ask something, but held a breath and let it pass. "If Daniel is going to play coy, maybe I can ask you," he said. "Why do they want you so bad? And how did you convince that bonehead to go with you?"

She stared at an empty space on the ground for a moment before she spoke. "I'm not sure. I guess they first wanted me for a helping you out, but when Sebastiano became involved, his money might have weighed in and made me more desired."

"That isn't—" Lance waved his hand. "That doesn't matter. No one seems to care whatever personal squabble is going on. All anyone seems to care about is a shield. Did you guys steal it?"

"No?" She didn't mean to seem unsure about it. But what could be so special about a shield?

Lance glanced from her to Daniel and back. Daniel's expression was slightly less confused, but it was clear neither of them really knew much about it. "You guys don't talk business much, do you?"

Daniel shrugged, and lifted a single hand up. He had been so busy with making sure they lived until the next day that the 'bigger picture' had fallen to the side of the road.

"What do you guys talk about?" Lance asked, completely derailed.

Daniel looked to Amilia. What did they talk about? While they traveled the only thing they could do was talk. "Uh, ourselves?"

Lance exhaled a small huh that summed up all his feelings. "That is so sweet I might vomit."

***

If the dozen of one-word texts weren't making it obvious that something was wrong, the fact Owen hadn't seen Andreah in over a week did. Not even for deliveries, since by the time he got downstairs she had already dropped the whatever off at the front desk. He leaned back in his desk chair at home, scrolling back and forth through his latest messages before deciding to make another attempt.

To Andreah:

So Michael totally got fired today. You should have seen it, this whole big scandal with this model. So much film everywhere.

It took a while, but he eventually got a reply.

To Owen:

Really? What happened?

To Andreah:

Nothing actually

This time the reply was almost immediate. Either she hadn't been up to anything or he had finally caught her full attention.

To Owen:

Wow...

He sighed, feeling things slip between his fingers once again.

To Andreah:

I'd really like to see you. I don't know how else to say that

He had a small feeling she would take her sweet time to reply, if at all. He put his head down, learning to accept defeat when the sudden noise of a new text gave him a start. Andreah invited him to come over to her place, which was a first. Any time he had asked about seeing it, she said her apartment was a mess and liked how quiet his was in comparison. She sent along the address before Owen assured he'd be there in no more than half an hour.

Owen decided to walk, using the time to think about everything; about what he would say, about what he did, which was still a matter of debate in his head. By time he made it to Andreah's apartment building, his thoughts were less clear than when he left.

The combination of being on a busier street, and on a lower floor, explained Andreah's comment about it being louder here. It wasn't obnoxiously so, actually endearing if you enjoyed the city. He exhaled sharply before he knocked on the door. There was no doubt Andreah would open up, but despite this, butterflies found their way into his stomach.

"Hey, come in," Andreah said in a single breath as she held the door open for him.

The plan was to open up into this big thing about how he didn't mean to offend her for whatever he did, and confess the accidental thoughtlessness, but the strange charm of her apartment silenced him. It was like a shrine to half-completed to-do lists. Folded clothes were piled onto an armchair, and another, older pile on the couch had started to lean in towards the side. In the living room alone he spotted two empty coffee mugs. One on the main table, and another on a banister that separated them from the kitchen.

"Owen," Andreah said. He didn't turn towards her as he continued to glance around her place. "We need to talk."

Those four words, however, caught his attention. His arms fell to his sides as he focused in on her, wondering if anything good ever followed that statement. "About what?" She sunk to sit on the arm of the couch. Owen tried to give her a moment to speak, but they just stared at each other, both too afraid. "Is this about me playing while you were over?" Owen blurted out. "Because I asked you if it was okay."

"It's not that." Andreah started, "It's just, when I saw you with Lance, I realized..."

Owen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Realized what?"

"It's just that..." Andreah picked at an imaginary thread, before she met his worried and almost annoyed blue eyes. "I realized you play a lot. Far more than I imagined."

"Are you joking?" Owen glanced around the room, like he was looking for an exit this time, before settling back on Andreah with as much accusation as she gave. "You ignore me and then only invite me over for an intervention?"

Her head jerked to the side, before falling very still. "If it's not a problem..."

"It isn't!"

"Good," she said, her tone fully committed now. "Then it won't hurt to see others who do. We could go to one of those meetings."

"Like a zoo? Let's go watch the addicts be spooky animals?" Andreah was right about one thing. It was too loud in this apartment. Distant sirens and stray horns of annoyed drivers grinded against Owen's nerves.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Whatever, I'm going home." Owen moved towards the door, but was quickly intercepted by Andreah jumping up off the couch.

"Please, don't go." Her breath seemed held captive in her chest, enough to give him pause. "Just...believe me when I say I'm worried about you."

Owen rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at her for a long moment, deciding if he wanted to challenge her further or just agree to be done with this conversation. "Fine."

Andreah lit up like she was given a second chance. "Really?"

He shook his head, wanting to back out of this whole situation, this whole day. Now he was the one who wanted to separate himself by sitting down. "I said fine."

"There is a group that meets a few blocks over."

Owen's jaw tightened at the mention. He knew that one, been there plenty of times for bone digging gigs. "But I'll only go if we can pretend like we don't know each other. Pretend we are meeting for the first time."

"What? No!" Andreah threw her hands in the air, confused as to where she lost her victory. "This isn't a game."

"Apparently everything is a game to me. Isn't that the problem?"

Andreah shook her head slowly like she wanted to cuss at him. "Fine," she said, with a bite as if it was some other four letter word. "You win."

"Sort of the point of games, right?" Owen moved past Andreah, being careful not to crowd her as he moved to the door. He paused with his hand on the door handle. "I'm going home. You can text me when you want to do this stupid thing."

It took two days, but that text came. He sat in a meeting watching a young woman with earrings longer than her short hair talk at the podium. "They told me success was just over the horizon," she said, pulling nervously on her collar before she went on. "As if the horizon wasn't an imaginary line that recedes as you approach it. But that's what is different in game, right? You can set a marker and reach it. You can chase, and catch, that horizon."

Owen was sitting in silence as he listened. He hadn't caught the name, but something about her made him smile. Maybe it was the near poetic way she tried to explain her problems. Movement caught Owen's eye, and he turned his head to see a brunette sit a few seats down. Lean, athletic build, and 100% gorgeous.

When the speaker stepped down, the seatmate glanced around before she leaned over on one of the chairs between them. "Are you going to speak tonight?"

"Why?"

He expected her to say something else, but they shared a glance that lingered far too long for strangers in a silent challenge. She edged forward on her seat as if she wanted to speak up, but in the end just listened.

Owen got up between speakers to get some coffee that tasted like it had been filtered through a sock. Why he had agreed to come was beyond him right now. He didn't see a problem, or have anything to share with the group. This game wasn't even fun, if she was only going to push for something he didn't understand.

She stood up and booked it out of the room. Owen raised a brow, and gave it a moment before he tossed his drink and followed her out. She turned, lit cigarette perched between her fingers. He might have said going outside to smoke was the polite thing to do, but that wasn't a word he'd ever used for her.

"Can I have one?" Owen asked.

She blew out smoke, looking as bored as he felt, before she held out the pack. Without word, he pulled one out, and handed it back in favor of his own lighter. What was meant to be fun got him thinking. Everyone was racing, all betting on what addiction would kill them first. Neither of them had money on lung cancer. Owen leaned against the wall and took a drag. He closed his eyes, enjoying it far more than the ten cent coffee.

"My name is Andreah," she said, her shoulder just turned enough to him. Andreah's tight expression made it look like she was pulling teeth, or maybe that hers had just been pulled.

"Owen."

"Is that a first or a last name, Owen?"

He cocked his head to the question. An amusement tugged at his face that he only barely could control. It was such a rare question, most assumed it was the first. "That would spoil the anonymity of this whole thing, don't you think?"

A smirk tinted that tough exterior. So she could still smile. Andreah shook her head like she didn't care, but the slight hitch in her shoulders suggested otherwise. "Maybe I just wanted to know what name I'd be screaming later."

Owen choked mid-drag like someone who had never smoked in their life. "Wow, what a cliché line."

"Are you telling me you aren't into it?"

"I didn't say that," Owen said. He looked up to the small patch of dark sky that wasn't hidden by tall buildings and street lights. Owen smiled to himself, and by time he shook his head he was laughing. "I can't believe we've slept together, and you don't even remember my full name."

"It isn't like we are Facebook official or anything." Andreah tried to defend, but lacked anything substantial since she should have known by now. "I bet you don't even know my full name either."

"Andreah Bourne," Owen said, "Birthday, August 30th. Your favorite thing to eat is a burger, the really fat and juicy sort."

"How do you know that?"

Owen put out his cigarette in the ashtray attached to the trash. He tried not to roll his eyes, but only managed to turn away before he did. "It's called listening, Andreah. Can we go? I think it's about to rain."