Playing Games
Page 46

"He doesn't need to win," Brodie countered. "He's rich."
"So's your partner. You're still trying to win."
"You know I want to win!"
"Yeah, well, I want Liam," I yelled at him. "And you fucking ruined that for me, so thanks a lot."
"Language," one of the cameramen hissed at me. "We're still filming."
I sighed and yanked another piece of dough in my direction, pleased to see that Brodie was still trying to watch me, but my table was shielded. Good. And he was still on his first tray. Double good.
"He's a rock star, Katy," Brodie said, and I recognized the tone of voice. That was his whole 'big brother knows all' voice. The patient, almost too-knowing, too-smug tone of voice that I normally tuned out. Today? It got on my damn nerves. "You know just as well as I do that we won't see him or Tesla again after this race."
"Well, you made sure that was the case, didn't you?" I said bitterly. "Blackmailing me for the Ace was pretty low."
"I don't get why you care so much," he said, and for a moment he sounded genuinely confused. "You said you just wanted the money. You'll still get the same amount for second place as you would for last."
"Would you give up on the money?" I bellowed. "It's not about that for me. Not anymore." I was getting a throbbing headache just trying to reason with Brodie. Why was I even trying? "You know what? Never mind, Brodie. Just never mind."
Summer rushed in a moment later, her eyes wide. She grinned happily at the sight of us. "I could hear you two yelling down the block. Led me right to this place."
"Only one of us is yelling," Brodie said in a sulky voice.
"Fuck off, Brodie," I said in my sweetest voice, and stuffed another pretzel in the tray.
“Language,” the cameraman said again, and we fell quiet.
Everyone twisted in silence for a while, the tension in the room utterly palpable. I couldn't help but notice that once Summer got set up with her table, Brodie propped up a few trays and made his own fort so she couldn't copy his hand motions. I peeked over at Brodie, and was discouraged to find that he'd started moving quite a bit faster than I'd hoped. If his pretzels looked halfway decent, he was going to make up a lot of time.
I finished the tray I was on and counted pretzels. Ten more. I got nervous at that, my hands shaking as I rapidly twisted and squished the pretzels into the proper shape. And then I was done. I leapt up, waving for the judge.
She strolled over to my table as if in slow motion and I twisted my doughy, flour-covered hands so I wouldn't reach out and shove her toward my table. As I hovered, she counted, and then nodded. "That's two hundred."
I hopped with excitement. "Now I do a delivery?"
She nodded and moved back to the mat. A large box of hot pretzels was waiting, painted black for my team color. It was about the size of a large ice-chest, and I hoisted it up, frowning. It was bulky and awkward to hold.
"You need to wear a delivery hat and apron," she told me cheerfully, and produced a boat-shaped hat with a big plastic pretzel on the front, and a plastic apron.
I set back down the pretzels, took the clothing from her, slapped the hat on and tied the apron around my waist. "Address?"
"Independence Hall," the woman said in a sweet voice. "Good luck."
"No street?" I didn't know where that was. This was Philadelphia — what if there were four different Independence Halls? "No directions at all?"
"No." Her smile remained in place.
"And I can't take a cab?"
"You have to walk."
Figured. I hefted the box and headed for the exit, trying not to panic. And here I'd thought twisting pretzels would be a challenge. I should have done the stinking flag task - Liam had been out of there within moments. Me, I'd spent the last hour twisting dough into knots and now had to hike across town with an enormous box of pretzels.
As soon as I emerged from the pretzel shop, I was greeted with polite clapping. "Good job, Katy," Polly called, and Tesla clapped her hands.
"Thanks," I said, touched by their encouragement. I squinted into the bright squinting sunlight and glancing over at my partner. Liam leaned against a wall, his pose utterly casual. But he was clapping, his hands slowly moving together, his gaze on me.
Did he hear me arguing with Brodie?
Our eyes locked for a long moment. Liam didn't speak.
Guess not. Feeling awkward, I hefted the box. "I have to deliver this before I get the next set of instructions."
"Good luck," Liam called as I turned to leave.
I glanced back at him, then hurried down the street. The hall surely couldn't be that far away. I just had to find it, and I had a lead on the others.
I'd been mistaken about one thing, though - the hall wasn't close. And all too soon, the Katy-curse came back to haunt me. I went down a few streets, asked for directions, followed the directions I'd been given, and twenty minutes later, was hopelessly lost. Downtown Philadelphia was kind of crazy. There was an enormous amount of buildings all clustered together, and I had no idea where I was going. Not only that, but the box was getting heavier by the moment. Why on earth did the five foot tall, direction-challenged girl get the task that involved delivering a heavy box?
Frustrated, I grimly hefted the getting-heavier-by-the-minute box onto my shoulder and kept walking, only to realize I'd passed by the same tree twice now.
I was lost.
And this was the final leg.
And Liam was going to think that I was doing this on purpose so Brodie could win.
I admit, I panicked. I ran to the nearest building. I'd just ask for fricking directions, if that was what it took.
There was a small coffee shop nearby, and I hefted the box under my arm, pulling the heavy glass door open. Someone was coming out at the same time as I was going in, though, and nudged my box. It fell to the ground, pretzels spilling everywhere.
I gave a small scream of dismay. "No!"
"Sorry," the man in a suit said, holding a cup of coffee. He watched me as I knelt over the pretzels, and then turned away and left, as if it wasn't important to help me. Dick.
I hurriedly scooped pretzels back into my box, trying to place them back the way they'd been neatly stacked. That was a losing battle, though, and by the time the box was full, I still had twenty pretzels sitting on the ground and couldn't close the lid. Frustrated, I mashed pretzels and tried to stuff them back into some semblance of order. Pushing the pretzels back into place took another five minutes of my time, but I couldn't leave any of them behind. Once the lid was back in place, I headed into the deserted coffee-shop. "Do you know where Independence Hall is?"
The guy behind the counter peered at my hat, then stared at the cameraman trailing me. "You on TV?"
"Something like that," I told him, impatient. "Independence Hall?"
He waved a hand. "Back that way several blocks."
"I just came from there," I exclaimed.
"Well then, you're heading in the wrong direction. Go back that way a few blocks. You can't miss it."
Can't miss it? Apparently I had. Heart sinking, I wondered if the delivery location had been closer than I'd thought. I'd gone at least eight blocks by now, maybe more. Hefting my box again, I murmured a thank you and headed out the door.