Falter Kingdom by Michael J Seidlinger Page A

it’s okay, but it’s also so absurd that this is happening.
    That this is all happening.
    After the group finishes, Jon-Jon sits down and asks me in that way he always does: “How much money do you think you made in the last hour, on a scale of one to ten, ten being raking it in like a fiend? What do you think?”
    It’s hopefully enough to stop. I tell him, “Eight?”
    Jon-Jon laughs, hands me a beer—not keg beer, but an actual bottle of IPA, some craft beer I don’t know. “You’re off the hook, friend.”
    I stare at him. “So... I made money then?”
    Jon-Jon tells me, “You’re off the hook. Debt paid. Next thing we do, you’ll be raking it in. But I got to take everything I’d give you as repayment and handling fees.”
    â€œThat’s bullshit.” Shouldn’t have said it but...
    It’s okay because Jon-Jon just laughs it off. He must have made a lot. He’s happy. I haven’t really seen him like this before, all mellow and laughing, not playing up that crime lord crap.
    I stand up and ask, “So I can go now?”
    â€œDon’t forget your beer.” Jon-Jon hands me the bottle.
    â€œYeah, okay. Yeah,” I say. I sound drunk even though I’m not.
    So I walk around the room once, determined to leave now, totally not digging this atmosphere; everyone’s trying so hard, you know? It just feels... wrong to be at a party like this, where everyone’s all about being amazing and dressed up and trying to get laid. It’s somuch effort, for me it kind of takes it out of caring. I usually care. I’m here, aren’t I? I cared enough to make sure that they still notice me. Now I feel empty.
    I really feel empty.
    I just want to...
    Oh.
    â€œHey,” I say, forgetting the concept of pickup lines.
    Nikki Dillon walks up to me and hugs me like we’re dear old friends.
    Of course Nikki Dillon is at a party like this. Of course.
    â€œHunter, so great to see you!”
    It sounds so genuine it makes me blush. Probably doesn’t look like I’m blushing though, in this dark light, which is good, because I feel really nervous all of a sudden.
    All of a sudden, it’s happening, what I could never bring myself to doing... talking to Nikki Dillon. No secret to anyone and I really don’t need to say it now, but here it goes: it’s no secret that she’s a longtime crush. I think she knows it as well, because in the past we’ve had too many encounters where we cross paths and exchange glances, do that thing that is everything about saying you’re interested but without actually putting yourself out there.
    We do that stuff.
    But now it’s finally happening.
    She’s talking to me, doing all the work, and I don’t know what to say.
    I don’t have to say anything.
    I grin and forget everything.
    She tells me, “You’re a hit.”
    â€œI’m a... what?” Too nervous, and stupid, to think.
    â€œEveryone loves you.” Nikki raises her eyebrows in a cute way as she brushes a strand of hair from her face. She does that so perfectly. I bet she practices these kinds of gestures in the mirror for hours.
    â€œI guess so, yeah.” I laugh all nervously.
    Stupid, so stupid.
    Then she says something that I think she lifted from a romance film, or a spy thriller, or maybe I’m just thinking that she did.
    â€œWe keep trading looks. I feel like it’s time we trade numbers.”
    That was so smooth I can die happy now.
    And then we do. I trade numbers with Nikki Dillon.
    Nikki hugs me again, plants a kiss on my right cheek, and says, “Call me.”
    This party’s not so bad after all. But it’s peaked, it’s over.
    I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I showed up. I’m not going to think about how she’s into me maybe just because of the demon.
    She’s always liked me.
    That’s what I choose to