Page 68 of His to Burn
I slept for five hours.
I really was getting soft.
I stretched, went into the attached bath, and then finally back into the basement.
I didn’t speak immediately, instead taking in the room.
It was a huge space with a big-screen TV, a couple of vintage video games, ample seating, and bowling trophies for decoration.
When I glanced at Asia, it struck me how much this could be a regular day. Maybe a game night with the cool wife making snacks for the guys.
The kind of life that wasn’t made for people like me.
“You got some rest, huh?” she said.
She didn’t look back at me, but I wasn’t surprised she knew I was there.
I got the sense that not much got past her.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” I responded.
“You obviously needed it. And besides, I figured you’d say something like ‘best to take advantage while you have the opportunity,’” she said.
“Yeah, you’re right about?—”
My words were quieted by another grumble in my stomach.
“I think I have a solution for that,” Asia said with a smile. She turned, a tray in her hands.
“You didn’t open any of the MREs?” I asked.
“No. The judge still has stuff here, so it makes more sense to use that. We have Vienna sausages—which is disgusting—some cheese, salami, crackers, and fresh fruit,” she said.
“Definitely a feast,” I responded, following her to where she gestured.
There was a leather and felt game tablewhere Asia placed the platter containing food. Once everything was arranged to her satisfaction, she said, “There’s also wine, liquor, beer.”
“No. Nothing for me,” I said.
She sobered, her expression dropping. “I agree. God, the judge has this rosé that is out of this world, but drinking isn’t going to help me,” she said.
“No, and if anything, it’ll only slow you down. Make you reactive. Which makes you vulnerable. Best to keep a clear head.”
She smiled, then grabbed one of the squares of cheese off the platter.
“I could easily imagine that was something you were going to say. Just think, less than twelve hours and your voice is already in my head,” she said.
“Sorry about that,” I responded for lack of anything else to say.
She grabbed a cracker, and after she chewed and swallowed, she said, “Don’t be. I’m not.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, studying her as I ate my own food.
She was right. The Vienna sausages were disgusting. I got them down in two bites,knowing that the protein was worth it, but wondering who on earth would spend money on those things.
“I mean, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I had been stuck in that elevator with anyone else, or even by myself,” she said.
“You’d have figured it out,” I responded.
