Page 30 of Harnessed in Gold

“You have a G-12 right there.” I point on his sheet. After he daubs it in yellow, we bend our heads over the brochure. Inside are diagrams for all the possible bingo patterns. When wefindpicnic table, I giggle. An X, topped with a solid line? That’s a stretch. Rime looks at me blankly. Maybe they don’t have picnic tables in Nàdar.

Next, we play for a plus sign, and after that, four corners. Rime gets only one daub away from winning the former, and one of the frat boys wins the latter. To anemic applause, he claims his prize: $100 that he’ll blow on a week’s worth of beer. I can tell by his walk he’s a Braden. All swagger and charm. He winks at someone as he returns to his seat. God help us if it’s Topaz.

“Fancy a snack?” Rime asks me as the emcee calls for a break.

“Uh, sure.”

“What would you like?”

I shrug, my mind on Linda and Barbara. How can I subtly get them back on the subject of ghosts?

“A ghrá.” Rime takes me by the chin. “What can I get you?”

His touch rattles me. “Oh, um, a Coke and some pretzels?”

“Alright.” He winks. "I’ll be back in a moment.”

I try to turn my attention to my new friends, but he holds me firmly, leaning down to plant a slow kiss on my temple.

It’s everything I can do not to gasp. Boyfriend. He’s supposed to be my boyfriend.

He winks again before his gaze shifts out into the room. I follow it and find myself looking directly at Leo. He’s halfway to standing, hands in fists and murder in his eyes.

Rime frowns as he rounds his chair.

I sigh, heat spreading to the tips of my ears. Whatever is going on between those two, I don’t want any part of it. I’m done being treated like a pawn.

When Leo sits down, I turn back to the table and fuss with the curling painter’s tape on the top corner of my sheet.

“Humph,” cackles Barbara, her eyes following Rime, or rather Rime’s backside. “He’s trouble, that one.”

I mumble, “Tell me about it.” No doubt, both she and Linda have women’s wisdom they could share with me. And I’m half tempted to ask them how they’ve handled the men in their lives, particularly theones who were possessive, liars, or overly-competitive. But I’m not here at Bingo to help myself.

And I need to get down to business.

I look back up at Barbara. “Remember before, when we were talking about ghosts? You said there was a crossroads. What does that mean?”

“You don’t know about crossroads?”

I shake my head. “Do you mean, like, literal roads?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. All sorts of strange happenings at the crossroads.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Linda jumps in, “It’s where you can meet the devil.”

I gulp. “Really?”

“So they say.”

Wide-eyed, I ask, “Have you?”

“Oh Lord, no.” Linda presses a hand to her chest. “I’ve been washed clean. I’m just tellin’ you what I hear.”

“Where are they?” I ask. “The crossroads, I mean.”

“Anywhere two roads cross. But the haunted one was somewhere up at the college, I’m thinking.”