Page 28 of The Sin Eater
Leaping off the ball, Darius runs over to the pile of hoops. He noses through them and comes up with one clamped in his jaw. The kid takes it and a man steps out of the shadows.
“Throw it to me,” the man says and after a moment’s hesitation, the kid does.
“Now catch it.” The man throws it back, and when the hoop is in the air, the dog jumps through it. Right through the middle. From a standstill. The hoop lands near the kid, who grabs it and tosses it back. Another jump. Another bull’s-eye.
This goes on for a while using different-sized hoops, the kid laughing, the crowd applauding, and the dog jumping. He never misses.
The kid goes back to his seat and Darius and the man moved to the balance beam, where Darius does a routine showing speed, agility, and a couple of flips like he’s a four-legged Simone Biles. The man asks if he’s tired and someone—the dog?—growls a “hell no.”
That makes Ezra jerk. “I’m gonna go get... um... “ He scrambles over me and is halfway to the dirt floor before I can respond.
I stand more slowly, apologizing to the other people in our row. Hunching so I’m not quite so tall and don’t block any views, I jog the perimeter till I get to the door. The whole way I’m wondering what I’ll do if Ezra’s not there.
Thank fuck he is. “Are you okay?” Yes, I sound like someone’s parent, and no, I don’t care.
“Yeah, that was... “ His voice trails off. “Let’s walk around some.”
He heads off in the direction of the entrance, though when he starts to veer toward the arch, I gently steer him the otherway. “Let’s get a snack.” I point to one of the kiosks. It’s a small booth strung with a strip of LED lights tacked to the edge of the counter, the rainbow colors running an endless race, with matching rainbow fairy lights flickering behind the young server.
“What can I get you?” they ask.
I keep a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, nervous that he might try and take off like he did in the tent. I wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to go. I just hope he won’t. “Are you hungry?” I ask him.
He peers at the tray of frosted cupcakes on the counter. “Do y’all have any whiskey?”
The server laughs, a friendly sound. “No. Mr. Ame doesn’t let us sell alcohol.”
“Too bad.”
I give his shoulder a squeeze. “We could split a cupcake.”
“We could do a lot of things.” He softens his sharp tone with a small grin. “But we can start with a cupcake.”
They sell coffee too, which is surprisingly good. We take our booty to one of the small tables that dot the area. The hubbub around us—laughing children and braying teen boys most prominently—fades once we’re seated.
“This place is weird as fuck.”
I hand Ezra the cupcake. “Have a bite. I think your blood sugar is low.”
He squints at me. “And you’ve been to medical school when?”
“Just eat.”
Somehow he manages to sneer with chocolate frosting on his lips.
“That dog was cool,” I say, still amazed by the tricks.
He shakes his head. “I knew you’d be a dog person.”
“What do you mean?” Surprised, I shift in my seat. Ezra doesn’t usually make observations like that.
He wipes the frosting away and sucks it off the tip of his finger, managing to be both coy and lewd as fuck. “You’re the kind of guy who’ll end up with a big house and a dog.”
“Someday.” I blink back the image of our crowded apartment, unable to deny his accuracy. “And you’re a cat person, for sure.”
Raising his paper cup of coffee, he laughs. “More like a honey badger.”
We both laugh, tapping our cups together. “We should go find the psychic before the big guy comes back to haunt us. Then we’ll know what your future will really be.”