The Never Game

It was occupied by few possessions; her big desktop computer — a twenty-something-inch monitor dominating the table it sat on. On either side of the big Dell were cardboard cartons serving as end tables; they held books and magazines, DVDs and boxes of video game cartridges. An office chair rested before it. Surrounding the workstation were shopping bags from computer companies — giveaways, he guessed, from the conference.

A mountain bike, well-used, sat in the corner. The brand was SANTA CRUZ. Shaw didn’t bike but when hiking or climbing he came across bikers often. He knew this make could go for nine thousand dollars. Also, there were free weights — twenty-five-pounders — and some elastic exercise contraption.

In the bedroom, to the right, was a double-sized mattress and box spring, sitting on the floor. The sheets were atop it, untucked and swirled like a lazy hurricane.

In the living room an unfortunate beige couch rested before a coffee table that made Frank Mulliner’s limb-fractured model look classy. The laminated dark wood top of Maddie’s was curling upward at the ends.

The kitchen was empty of furniture and appliances other than those built in: a range, a fridge, an oven and a microwave. On the counter was a box of cornflakes and two bottles of white wine, a six-pack of Corona beer.

Shaw dated the huge house around the 1930s. It was sorely in need of paint and repair. Water damage was prevalent and the plaster walls cracked in a dozen places.

“Out of The Addams Family, right?” Maddie said, laughing.

“True.”

Last Halloween, Shaw had taken his nieces to an amusement park; it had featured a haunted house that looked a lot like this.

She went on to explain that she’d found it through an Airbnb kind of service. It was available only because its days were numbered; next month it was being demolished, thanks to Siliconville. The stained wallpaper was of tiny, dark flowers on a pale blue background. The dotted effect was oddly disconcerting.

“Wine?”

“Corona.”

She got a cold bottle from the refrigerator and poured herself a tall glass of wine, returned to the couch, handed him the beer and curled up. He sat too; their shoulders touched.

“So...?” From her.

“This is where you ask if there’s anybody in my life.”

“Good-looking and a mind reader.”

“Wouldn’t be here if there was.”

Clinking glasses. “Lot of men say that but I believe you.”

He kissed her hard, his hand around the back of her neck once more, surprised that the tangles of her rust-shaded hair were so soft. He thought they’d be more fibrous. She leaned in and kissed back, her lips playful.

She took a large sip of wine. A splash hit the couch.

“Oops. Good-bye, security deposit.”

He started to take the glass from her. She had one more hit and then relinquished it. The glass and his beer ended up on the wavy coffee table. They were kissing harder yet. Her legs straightened from their near-lotus fold and she eased back onto the cushions. His right hand descended from her hair to her ear to her cheek to her neck.

“Bedroom?” Shaw whispered.

A nod, a smile.

They rose and walked inside. Just past the threshold Shaw kicked off his shoes. Maddie lagged, diverting momentarily, shutting out the living room and kitchen lights. He sat on the bed and tugged his socks off.

“Got something that might be fun,” her voice whispered seductively from the dark space on the other side of the doorway.

“Sure,” he said.

When Maddie appeared in the doorway, she was wearing the Hong-Sung Immersion goggles.

“Lord, Colter, I got what I think is the first smile out of you in two days.”

She pulled them off and set them on the floor.

Shaw reached out a hand and tugged her to him. He kissed her lips, the tattoo, her throat, her breasts. He started to pull her into the bed. She said in a soft voice, “I’m a lights-out girl. You okay with that?”

Not his preference but under the circumstances perfectly fine.

He rolled across the bed and clicked the cheap lamp off and, when he turned back, she was on him and their hands began undoing buttons and zippers.

Naturally, it was played as a competitive game.

This one ended in a tie.

48

Nearly midnight.

Colter Shaw rose and walked into the bathroom. He turned the light on and in his peripheral vision he saw Maddie scrambling, urgently, to pull a sheet up to her neck.

Which explained the lights out. And explained the cover-up clothing of sweats and hoodies; many of the women at C3 wore tank tops and short-sleeved T’s.

He’d gotten a glimpse of three or four scars on Maddie’s body.

He recalled now that, earlier, as his hands and mouth roamed, she would subtly direct him away from certain places on her belly and shoulder and thigh.

He guessed an accident.

As they’d driven from the Quick Byte Café, she’d done so carelessly, speeding sometimes twenty over the limit, then slowed to let him catch up. Maybe she’d been in a car crash or biking mishap.