Fifty Million Reasons by Heather Wardell

Author:Heather Wardell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Due to the whole 'someone's trying to kill me' thing, I hadn't been able to get to John's hockey game the previous Sunday, but I made up for it by hanging out with Zack this week as his dad raced around the ice with the other guys.

John seemed a bit slower than his teammates but since he hadn't been able to play for a few months that made sense. They were between periods at the moment, down in their dressing rooms, so Zack and I were chatting to pass the time.

"It's good you missed last week," Zack said through his last mouthful of the hot dog I'd bought him with the money John had given me before the cops showed up the week before.

"How come?"

He laughed, sending bun crumbs everywhere.

I shook my head. "Disgusting beast."

He brushed off his shirt and swallowed. "Sorry. But Dad kind of suc-- he wasn't very good last week. He's better now."

"He hadn't played for ages, so no wonder. Did he have fun, though?"

Zack nodded. "But he was sore after. Hey, can we play that airport game again?"

Zack's Christmas present from Tiff had been the same phone I'd bought myself, and we'd found a game we could play head-to-head. "Sure."

As I went to start the game, though, I thought of something else. "Did you put my phone number in that thing?"

He looked up from his phone. "Nope. Dad said I'd better not in case someone figured out it was you and tried to get money from you."

John was so sweet. "Good point. But what if something bad happens? You know you can call me any time, right?"

"Yeah. The number's on our home phone."

"Won't help if you can't get to that phone." I looked out over the small crowd watching the game and noticed a gray-haired man wearing a "Williams" jersey. "What about using a fake name? Put me in as Forrest Williams or something."

Zack laughed. "You think that'd stop my friends from trying to call you?"

I smiled. "Guess not. What would?"

He tapped something into his phone then held it up to show me.

"Grandma? Yeah, that'd do it."

Offering me the phone, he said, "Give me your number, Grandma."

I raised my hand in mock threat. "I'll give you something but it won't be my number."

He laughed. "Bring it on, Grandma."

"Shut your trap, knucklehead." I took the phone and entered my cell number. "There. And do call me if you need me, okay?"

He took the phone back. "If I need someone to beat at Call of Duty, I'll let you know."

"Good luck with that, punk."

He chuckled while tapping away at his phone, then the phone began playing the theme from our favorite of the "Call of Duty" games and he burst out laughing. "Yeah, perfect. That's your ringtone."

I patted his arm, trying to look wildly sympathetic. "It doesn't bother you to hear it knowing that I always beat you?"

He jerked his arm away with a dramatic head toss and we laughed.

"What ringtone did you use for me?"

"Same as your dad's.

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