Page 30 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

“Mack?” I guessed.

“Mom,” he corrected. “Barbecue and birthday cake are waiting for us. Seriously, Bro? You had to shoot me?”

“I couldn’t sleep well otherwise.” I somehow managed to say this with a straight face.

“Some brother you are.”

“Just wait until you see my birthday present for you. All will be forgiven.”

Brandon eyed me sidelong. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“When the hell have I ever spoiled a surprise?”

“Figures.”

There was a raucous cheer and a lot of groans. Oh, sounded like the game just finished. I popped my head back around the fence to see for myself. It only took a glance because Eli was once again all smiles, gremlin that she was, and everyone else looked at her with varying levels of frustration. Those apple green eyes of hers were sparkling with laughter, and she kept patting her metal arm like it was the key to all success in life.

“Eli won again?” How was it the smallest person here was the hardest one to defeat? Or maybe it was because of her small size that she was harder to hit.

Skylar shook a finger at her. “There will be a revenge match.”

Not at all threatened, Eli waggled her eyebrows in return. “Bring it.”

I had a feeling paintball games were going to be a tradition for this group. There were worse ways to bond with people than shooting them, right? Right.

Brandon called out, “Air conditioning, barbecue, and cake await us! Everyone head to my parents’ house!”

The summons instantly put people into a better mood, and we all headed for our vehicles. I’d driven my truck today since Jon had the Power Wagon. I tried not to feel sad about him driving his own vehicle, but I loved that thing. I might have to sell my truck and find one for myself.

With it being a Saturday, traffic was crazy, but not crazy-crazy like it was during the week. I made it to my parents’ house without too much trouble, finding Jon and Mack already there. They’d bowed out of paintball, as it wasn’t their thing, which was fine. I also suspected Mack was up to something. He and Jon had been co-conspirators for weeks leading up to this.

As usual, with Jon over, my parents had set up everything on the back deck. It was easier for all parties involved if he wasn’t in the house.

And it was quite the setup. We had not one, but two grills going, with corn on one and all sorts of tender meat on the other. Mom had gone the extra mile on the cake, making two triple-layer cakes to accommodate all the guests, although only one of the cakes had candles. Shame, that. I would have loved to see Brandon try to blow out two groups of candles at the same time.

I’d ditched my paintball gear before coming but still had dirt and paint smudges on me, so I was careful when I greeted Jon with a kiss so I didn’t ruffle him. “Hi, babe. Now do I get to hear what you and Mack have been plotting?”

“Not yet.” He grinned, immensely pleased with himself. And Brandon hadn’t even seen the gifts yet.

I shrugged, went inside the house to wash the worst of the dirt off in the kitchen sink, then came back out to find everyone had arrived in the two minutes I’d been gone.

“Everyone here?” Mom called. “Oh good. All right, Brandon, happy birthday!”

We sang “Happy Birthday,” Brandon acting like a conductor to a grand orchestra as we did so, ending in the traditionalCheeeee hoooo! Well, the mainlanders didn’t think it was traditional, but I had grown up doing it, so…anyway.

Brandon laughed, blew out the candles, then straightened up like a kid expecting prezzies. “Presents! I’m dying here. Mack’s been snickering and plotting behind my back for weeks.”

Mack solemnly pulled out a very large rectangular present wrapped in cartoon ghost wrapping paper. No idea where he even found that. The box was long enough for a gun, or something along those lines, so I was very curious what it was.

Tearing into it, Brandon sent paper flying everywhere, then popped open the Prime box. Only to stop abruptly, face lighting up with unfettered delight.

“This is the best super soakerever,” he breathed.

I leaned over his shoulder to get a better look. It was indeed a super soaker, but only in the strictest meaning of the word. I’d never seen something like it. It had a long barrel, but it wasn’t made of plastic, with dual tanks sitting on top, painted a dark grey color that was still transparent enough to see water levels. The whole thing had steampunk vibes and honestly had Booker’s fingerprints all over it.

“Booker made it custom order,” Mack announced, chest puffed out. He was pleased with himself and rightly so. “This one is guaranteed not to leak.”

“It damn well better not,” Booker muttered at the end of the table. “Brandon, I made most of it from resin, so it’s sturdy enough that if you drop it, no harm. There’s a switch so you can go back and forth between the tanks, and we had a cross engraved onto the gun itself, so whatever water you put into the gun is automatically holy water. Plus—Jon?”

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