Page 42 of Eight Steps to Alpha

“Not since I was in eighth grade.” He laughed, sitting down opposite her at the coffee table.

“Do you remember how to play?” she asked, kneeling up to grab a pillow, then cris-crossed her legs and hugged them to her chest.

“Isn’t it self-explanatory?” he asked, stretching his legs out toward the front door.

“Well yes,” she cleared her throat. “Except if you’re caught in a lie, you have to drink.”

“And if you don’t catch me?” he asked, searching for an error in this plan.

“Then I have to drink.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a pillow from the chair and placing it under one elbow. “You go first.”

“Okay.” She leaned back against the couch, and gazed up to the ceiling. “I was once in a Christian cereal commercial, my favorite color is blue, and I won a Karaoke tournament in seventh grade.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Christian cereal. There’s no such thing, plus I already know your favorite color is blue.”

She refilled his glass. “Wrong! Drink.”

“What?” He picked up his shot glass, and swallowed it in one go. “Then what was the lie?”

She grinned. “I’ve never sang Karaoke, let alone won a contest.”

He frowned. “But you have a beautiful voice…”

She laughed. “Liar.”

He bit his lip. “Should I drink again?” Because in truth, Fe sounded like a drowning turkey when she sang.

“Yes!” she laughed. “Once for being a smart ass, and once because you played out of turn.” But then she grinned, and filled his glass only once.

“Your turn!” she said in a sing song voice, when he set his glass back down on the table.

He rolled onto his back, contemplating the perfect lie. “Okay.” He looked up to the ceiling. “I’ve never owned a dog, even though I’ve always wanted one. Bugs Bunny gives me nightmares, and seven is my lucky number.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Five is your lucky number. Too easy. Drink.”

“God damn it!” He rolled to his side again and tossed back another. “You know me too well.”

“You’ve never had a dog?” she asked then, after refilling his glass.

“Nope. Never.”

“That’s kinda sad, don’t you think?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know.” She toyed with the bottle of Jack between her fingers. “It seems that every kid should grow up with a dog.

Alcohol was started to thin his blood, because his lips suddenly felt looser. “Momma had no time for dogs. She was too busy chasin’ after me and Colton.”

Fe adjusted the position of her pillow and sat straighter, as though this news were a complete shock to her. “And what about your father? I’ve never heard you talk about him.”

He shrugged, not really liking the turn in conversation. “He only had time for Colton.” He turned his attention back to the bottle, unsure why he’d just admitted that fact. It was true, but before tonight, he’d never acknowledge it. Maybe to himself, but not to anyone else.

There was a long, hollow pause in the room, like all of the energy had been sucked out in an instant. He glanced up to Fe, finding her watching him. “Dodger, that’s what I would name my dog, if I had one.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, but she was too damned quiet for his liking. He hated when she was silent, because it only meant one thing. That she was thinking. “Your turn,” he said without looking away.

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