Page 66 of Adorkable

We didn’t talk much on the way to Mercedes’s. Becks kept looking at my outfit and shaking his head, but I was still high off that last comment. When we finally got to her street, the house was unmistakable. She’d decorated it in green and white streamers, and the line of cars looped around the block. CHS had won, of course. Even with Becks out, they’d played well, and Ash had led them to a three to one victory.

“Lucky,” Becks called it now, walking up the steps to the giant two-story. The door was gaping, so you could hear music all the way out here. “If Stryker had been paying attention, they would’ve never scored in the first place.”

“I thought you said he did good.”

“Good,” he repeated. “Not great. Now, are you and Hooker really going to do this? Again?”

I stopped, turned to face him. “We haven’t even done it for almost two years.”

“I know, but why?”

“Why not?” I countered. Stepping back, I held out my arms. “How do I look?”

Grinning, he reached up and tugged the Stetson more securely onto my head. “You look great and you know it, Sal.”

Compliment number two. This night was going a whole lot better than I’d predicted.

As we entered, Becks was greeted in the usual way. Everyone wanted to say hi and give him pats on the back. Though he’d had to sit out, everyone knew the team wouldn’t have gotten where they were without Becks—and he’d be back in for the next game.

“Oh my gosh!” Mercedes appeared, long hair waving in an unseen breeze, wearing a tight green dress that looked painted on. “I’m so glad you guys could come. Having Bally here is going to make it so much more epic.”

Having Bally call it quits, I corrected mentally.

Before I could get too down, the music cut off abruptly, and I heard a voice behind me.

“Well,” she drawled, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Slowly, I turned, delivering the line like I said it every day.

“I’m your Huckleberry.”

Hooker grimaced, eyes widening comically.

I grinned.

Her reaction was perfect. The dusty black coat, the red sash next to the gun at her hip, the mustache, her accent, everything was flawless. We were in the zone, both of us wanting to knock this last one out of the park. Mercedes had been wrong. Bally wasn’t what was going to make this party epic. Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo were here to have a duel to the death, and they were about to steal the show.

CHAPTER 12

Hooker had never died better.

As she went down choking and groaning, she made sure to fall at Mercedes’s feet, nearly pulling the other girl down in the process. Our hostess looked as if she might faint. When it was done—after Johnny Ringo (Hooker) had taken his last breath, and Doc Holliday (Me) delivered that last line about him being “no daisy”—there was a moment of silence. Hooker and I didn’t care. We took a bow, and half the room burst into applause, the other half still looking like “What the heck?”Tombstonewas on TV all the time now, but most of them hadn’t seen it.

“Man, I loveTombstone.” Trent Zuckerman was one of the few who had. “It was like the best movie ever. You did great, Lillian.”

“Thanks,” Hooker said, pulling off her ‘stache.

“I meanreallygreat,” Trent gushed then tried for a thick Southern accent. “‘I am your Huckleberry.’ Man, that’s awesome. You two are like legends.”

Hooker and I looked at each other. He’d sounded more like a Cali boy on crack, and he hadn’t even gotten the line right.

“I’ve got to go find Cicero,” Hooker laughed, turning to walk away. “Nice job, Doc.”

I smiled. Cicero was Hooker’s latest boy toy, a Greek transfer student. “You too, Ringo.”

Trent moved to follow, calling, “Hey, Lil, hold up!”

It looked like Zuckerman had a crush. I wondered if it was the facial hair or Hooker’s drawl that did it.

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