Page 69 of Work It Out
The animal was shaped like a pig but so fuzzy it was comical, complete with a wild mop of wiry hair atop its head. The legs and body were reminiscent of a wiener dog—a morbidly obese wiener dog. Then there were the spines. Long spikes formed a collar around its neck and a cuff around each chubby ankle, as well as a line of thick needles down the center of its back.
“It looks like a punk rock pig,” Rayah whispered. “A really hairy one.”
Blaine’s shoulders shook silently. Under his breath, he added, “You ought to be able to find them easy enough, you being so low to the ground.”
She glared, but his smile was such a welcome sight she couldn’t hold on to her mad. “In that case, you’re screwed, Gigantor. You may as well stay home.”
“Now,” Zandar continued, “there’s a few things you ought to know about spinies. They’re mostly docile creatures, but they can be cantankerous when they feel threatened. You can only kill them with a shovel, so no one’s carrying one of those into the Hunt. Not that you’d need one anyway. Law says you can only dig real shallow-like for crystals, and you’ve got to make sure you put the dirt back when you’re done. A garden trowel and a hand rake should do the trick. But most importantly,” he said, his voice grave, “never—and I mean never,ever—stomp your feet at a spiny.”
Rayah blinked. “Why would anyone do that?” Then, from the front pew, a teenage girl asked what everyone else was probably wondering. “What happens if you stomp your feet?”
“They charge,” Zandar announced in the same tone one would use to warn of a stampeding herd of rhinos. “I know they don’t seem intimidating. They’re only about the size of a toy poodle, after all. But it only takes a scratch from one of those spines, and it’s good night, Gracie.”
From the row in front of Rayah, Grace groaned. Blaine snorted. Grace turned a glare on him that only made him laugh harder and drew the attention of Jared and Nate, who’d been hanging back against the wall. They didn’t bother to ask Grace to move down. Nate plopped himself next to her and started scooting. Rayah could’ve sworn she heard the other woman snarl as she slid down for the guys.
“This year’s prize,” Zandar continued, “is a special one. Now, I’m not gonna tell you what it is, so don’t ask.” He grinned behind his thick mustache. “You’ll have to share it with your partner, though, so play nice during the Hunt. Winning this one could make you happy for the next twenty years. But even if you don’t take home that prize, you might hit the real jackpot: true love.” He located his wife in the front pew and winked. “Some lucky pair will be back in this church before next year’s Hunt. Good luck, and let the lottery begin.”
A low rumble started on the stage, building to a rattling whirr as Quin cranked the handle of the massive drum, tumbling the scraps of paper inside. Jean stood beside with a tablet, ready to record the pairings.
Pierce appeared in the aisle and shooed Rayah and Blaine over so he could slide in on her other side. “Did I miss anything good?”
Rayah shook her head. “They haven’t drawn any names yet.”
Pierce rubbed his hands together. “Let the catfights begin.”
Rayah thought he was crazy until it happened, and it didn’t take long. Trouble struck with the third set of names. First came Carlos, owner of Bigbone’s only grocery store. But the second name was barely out of Quin’s mouth when the woman next to Carlos, who had to be his wife, jumped up, screeching at a woman across the aisle that she’d drown the heifer in the creek before she let her hike the mountains with her husband.
“Told you,” Pierce said over the din. “Peggy’s Carlos’s ex. They were dating last year when he was paired with Gina. This year, Gina’s his wife, and he’s supposed to go on the Hunt with Peggy.” He cackled. “Soap operas have nothing on this shit.”
Rayah whacked his arm. “Shame on you.”
Quin let fly one of those piercing whistles some people magically make by putting two fingers in their mouth. Rayah had never been able to master it, but then she hadn’t tried too hard. Putting unwashed hands in her mouth grossed her out. The microphone picked up Quin’s whistle, and Rayah’s hearing would never be the same.
“That’s enough.” Quin’s best Zen therapist tone juxtaposed horribly from that whistle. “You know the rules: no trading partners. But there’s nothing saying teams can’t work together. In the end, only one team can win, but I suspect you can work that part out for yourselves.” He reached his hand into the barrel and pulled out two more names. “Jared Coleman and,” he fumbled with the slips of paper, “Samuel Higgins.”
A low groan sounded from the pew in front of her. “Ah, hell,” Jared muttered.
Nate thumped him on the back. “At least you don’t have to worry about the curse.” Grace slapped him upside the head. “I mean the legend, the really awesome legend ofluuurve.” Nate rubbed his head. “Damn, woman. That hurt.”
Rayah peeked back at the lobby. Samuel stood exactly where she’d left him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d caught Jared’s reaction or Nate’s comment. It could be hard to tell with him. Sometimes he picked up on stuff like that, sometimes he didn’t. Even when he did notice, there was no guarantee he’d be hurt or offended. He didn’t seem to care either way at the moment. He’d turned to leave when the next name was called.
“Victoria Miller.” Quin smiled, then squinted at the second slip. He gulped.
Samuel went tense and focused, like whatever came out of Quin’s mouth next could wreck his world or put it to rights.
“Pierce Sullivan,” Quin announced.
Beside her, Pierce threw a quiet celebration ofhell yeses. Meanwhile, Samuel looked like he’d murder Pierce with his bare hands as soon as he finished throwing up. He didn’t do either, however. He simply glared at the back of Pierce’s head, turned, and charged through the doors to the parking lot.
“That’s interesting,” Blaine murmured for Rayah’s ears only.
“Yeah, interesting.”
More names were called, but Rayah only tuned in when it was someone she knew, which was more often than she would’ve thought. Her mind was stuck on the look on Vicky’s face as she’d fled the hallway and the worry that Samuel was about to have his heart shattered.
“Hey, cupcake. What did I miss?” Tingles danced across Rayah’s spine when Jake leaned over the back of the pew and kissed the top of her head.
Rayah felt more than saw Blaine stiffen beside her. One second passed. Two. Blaine sighed, carefully maneuvered his oversize frame to a standing position, and scooted out of the pew. He only banged his knees twice. “You can have my seat, Newman. I’m going to grab something to eat. Rayah wouldn’t let me steal your chips.”
