Bad Company

Speculation

Daniel and I had stepped off to the side of the parking lot where we were stationed on the hood of my truck, watching Colt and Dusty argue. Daniel had suggested it after the pain in my ribs seemingly began matching the intensity of the conversation between the two men, so I eagerly agreed to the change of location.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between us, but Daniel's last question had my teeth nibbling at my upper lip and anxiousness zipping through my nerves. "Only one?" I asked for the third time.

Daniel's probing gaze held mine, and he nodded solemnly. "Only one."

I opened my lips and released the air being held captive in my lungs. "I can't believe you're making me answer this."

Daniel shrugged, unbothered by it. "What's your answer?"

"Well, I guess..." My hands flittered to my mouth where I crossed my fingers over my lips. I hummed softly before lowering them and deciding on an answer. "Apple pie."

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Over red velvet cake? Seriously?"

I shrugged my shoulders and tossed my hands in front of me helplessly. "What? You said I could only pick one! At least with apple pie you can heat it up and melt ice cream on top. Besides, red velvet cake is just over-glorified chocolate cake with some red food dye."

"Alright, but it's delicious over-glorified chocolate cake," Daniel argued. He dug the heel of his shoe into the ground and kicked at the small hole it carved. "What a disappointment."

"I know you are, but what am I?" I retorted sassily, reaching far back into my youth for, what used to be, the ultimate comeback.

Daniel slid his gaze disappointedly over to me, arching an eyebrow. "Really? That's what you come up with?"

I shrugged and lightly poked at his side. "Don't hate the player; hate the game."

"Oh, dear God," he mumbled under his breath, standing up from his leaning position and taking a few steps away. As an afterthought, he glanced over his shoulder and questioned, "Do you want a drink? I'm heading in to grab one while we wait for those two to finish their...conversation."

"I'll take a water. Thanks." I offered a smile as he sauntered off towards the bar whose door was splintered and scattered across the floor. Colt had wasted no thought on preserving the door when he fought to reach me.

Hardly ten seconds passed after Daniel walked off before my phone rang from inside the cab of the truck where I had left it earlier that day. Defeat weighed heavily on my bones as realization struck that I would have to scoot down from my comfortable perch to answer the call. With a deep groan, I slipped down the hood and landed with a sharp inhale. My ribs screamed in protest, and my fingers automatically latched onto the truck for support as the pain ebbed, but it didn't linger.

I slowly made my way around to Sam's driver side and opened the door. As I read the caller I.D., I hurriedly snapped up the phone and answered. "Hey. What's the update?"

"Greg's being carted into surgery now. One of the nurses I spoke to told me that he was really lucky. The bullet managed to miss any major organs or arteries," Dannie half-sobbed, half-laughed out of sheer relief. I could tell simply by her tone of voice that her guilt had lightened.