Page 147 of Unleashed

Tansy pulls me to battle her first. We’re allowed some practice throws. We have a referee or overlord who records our score, judges our throws, and sidelines total anarchy from hijacking the game. We’re not complete barbarians. Save that shit for the parking lot.

At first, swinging an axe over my head is weird and my throws bounce off the board and land on the floor, but after I get the hang of it and nail the target instead, I’m addicted. One day, I’ll own a home with axe-throwing targets in my backyard. My arms will scream tomorrow, but it’s stress relief I didn’t know I needed outside of sex, and I’m only getting that from one person.

This round, Tansy beats me, but she’s been playing this for a couple of years. Once I get my footing, I’ll kick ass. Maybe my own, but it’s still an accomplishment.

We go over to a bunch of picnic tables, and I sit at one with Tansy, Lurch Cosby, Dolly Parton Lite, Eiffel Tower, and Tansy’s BFF, Bondo, while Shitter and Dingle battle each other to be Lizzie Borden’s protégé.

I straddle the picnic table bench seat with Tansy sitting next to me. As I bite into a pizza, Tansy leans closer and whispers, “Damn, you smell good. Maybe we’ll leave early and go to my apartment.”

I chew with my mouth closed but mumble, “It’s the pizza.”

She laughs, dragging her fingers along my arm underneath my shirt. “You are so damn funny.” That’s what I’m going for here, as usual.

Bondo drones about school, work, or the nerdery she lives in. I half-listen to everyone. I guess I’m that kind of douche tonight.

For whatever reason, I feel melancholy and empty around new people. It’s not fair to Tansy for me not to be present on a damn date. But I don’t feel a connection with her. Maybe it’ll change, or maybe we need to have sex before I feel anything for her. Is that why other guys fuck around? To find love? That’s even more depressing.

Tansy grabs my forearm as I raise it to drink my beer. “What are these black bracelets?”

I slide my hand beneath Tansy’s, stopping her from picking at them. “They were my sister’s. I took them after she died.”

“Oh. Suicide?”

I frown and narrow my eyes. “No.” I don’t elaborate, but whatever.

Since I don’t explain, Tansy changes the subject. “What is it?”

Everyone at the table appears to wait for my answer, but apparently, I’m on Jeopardy and don’t know the question. “What is what?”

Tansy sighs with a laugh. “Bandie asked what your middle name is.” How fucking strange.

“Richard. Yours?”

“Leonarda.” Somehow, I’m not surprised.

Tansy says, “Mine is Sage.” This is my night? Check, please.

Bondo crosses her arms like my mother when I drank from the milk jug. “What do you do?”

Everyone at the table looks at me, waiting, and I inhale. “I’m a paralegal.”

Tansy plays with her phone as Bondo asks, “Do you like it?”

“Yep.” To be cordial, I ask, “What do you do?”

“I’m a writer for a travel magazine.” This bitch’s charisma is off the charts. There’s no way she’s left Virginia.

As if going from a list in her head, Bondo asks, “Who’s your best friend?”

I pause as I think about that, but go for a safe answer. “Hadley.”

“What’s he like?”

“She’s the best. Thus, BFFs.”

“Your best friend is a woman? Hmm. Tansy, how do you feel about that?”

Tansy shrugs as she looks at her phone. “I’ve met her. Pretty and married.” What the fuck does any of this have to do with shit?

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