Page 59 of Hell and High Water

Slamming his glass down, he sets his elbow down on the table, opening his hand.

“Seriously? Arm wrestling?”

“I can't think of anything else to start with. You chicken shit?”

His smile is more than contagious, his brawny energy dragging me in. We clap hands together, flexing our arms like a couple of action movie stars.

I clasp his hand tighter, gripping for purchase and anchoring myself on the side of the table.

“So one, two, three, go?”

“Yeah, that.”

A fleeting thought scampers through my head. I’m going to regret this.

“One. Two. Three. GO!”

I'd like to say I hold out for longer than I do.

Ten seconds of fighting for my life, slowly failing, and he slams the back of my hand into the table, standing and raising his arms in a cheer. “Ha!”

“Fuck!” I shake my hand off, wincing. “Should have expected that…”

At least there’s no broken bones.

“You put up a good fight. You’re strong as hell!”

“Mmhmm, sure. Ask your question.”

“You scouted Hellena to work for you.”

“Yes, but that's not exactly a question.”

“It’s set up. Did you know going into it that you were going to play her? That you were going to use her like a pawn and betray her?”

“That’s two questions.” For a second, my hackles go up.

But he’s not being aggressive or a dick. He’s frank, relaxed.

“Just answer the fucking question, Evan.”

“I only planned to put her to work. Figured she would flunk out at first. I would have called it even and let her off the hook after a few jobs. The order to prepare her for other things came later…”

“After you fell in love with her.” He raises an eyebrow, and I stare right back at him. I could avoid this question. He’s already gotten two.

“Yes, after I fell in love with her.”

“Good! Next contest. Your call.” He paces the room, swinging his massive arms with an excited energy.

“I'm certainly not going to arm wrestle you again. What about…” I’m drunk enough to have a hard time being creative, so I go with something I know I’m good at. “Push ups!”

“Alright, soldier, drop and give me… as many as you can!” He laughs, shouldering me on his way into the living room. “I'll match you one for one.”

We drop down to our hands, staring at each other for a second before I start pumping out one after another.

We pass fifty before either of us shows any signs of slowing. At one hundred, we’re both grunting a bit. At one-fifty, we’re breathing heavy.

That’s when the asshole starts trying to make me laugh.

---