“I knew you were gonna fit right in!” Athena whooped, and a few seconds later Nasa came in, toting another huge bag and rolling a suitcase behind him.
The sight of the case had Athena bouncing up and down, clapping her hands with all the delight of an eager little girl.
“Ooh! Did you bring up the Galil?”
Nasa's grin split his face from ear to ear. “Yes, I brought it up, you little psycho, and enough ammo to blow a hole the size of Texas through the barn.”
To Dillon, he said, “Do you want to go get your toys or play with mine?”
As innuendo laden an invitation as that was, Dillon couldn't resist. “Show me what you've got.”
And that’s how Dillon wound up standing on a line with the women of Perdition, playing a hilarious game of Texas Shoot'em.
By the time the three of them had set up, picked their weapons, and toed the line of the tactical bay situated behind the barn, all the guys in residence had come out with beer and snacks to take a seat on the back porch and watch.
Ripley arrived not long after the first round—which Dillon won—and as expected, Ripley had on a pretty pink dress with white polka-dots and mile high pink heels.
She looked like a pin-up model on a fashion shoot, and all three of her pistols had pink grips. Somehow, she managed to make shooting an elegant, lady-like sport.
As soon as Ripley lined up with them, Nasa declared they would move on to play Trivial Pur-Shoot, and gave a deck of trivia cards to Ruckus, who shouted the questions loud enough to be heard downtown.
Ruckus hollered out the trivia, and whoever answered correctly got to take a shot at the paper targets. The closer to the red center, the higher the points.
So far, Dillon was tied for first with Ever, and Ruckus kept asking sex-related trivia questions that had all the guys in stitches.
“Lagnoperissia is a fancy name for what sexual condition?” Ruckus bellowed enthusiastically.
“Nymphomania!” Ripley shouted out immediately, eliciting a loud wolf-whistle from her husband.
“Correct! Nail that target!” Ruckus ordered. They all watched Ripley hit the southwest edge of the target center.
Dillon glanced over her shoulder to see the guys in their lawn chairs with binoculars pressed to their eyes.
Top, Damon, and Duke huddled together to confer before writing their scores on the white cards Nasa had provided.
They each gave Ripley a 4.5 for a total of 13.5. Dillon couldn't help but smile when Ripley let out a little squeal, waving at Saint like he hadn't been watching.
Dillon looked to where Nasa sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him, his arm draped over Elka's back.
Elka looked ridiculous with this contraption on her head that was the equivalent of noise canceling headphones, but the big goof looked deliriously happy to be included in the festivities, sitting beside Nasa with her tongue lolling in a Dobie grin.
The headphones? Also, Nasa's doing. He'd whipped the gadget out of his bag and explained Elka wouldn't be uncomfortable with all the noise while wearing the headphones.
Dillon has sarcastically asked him if he just had them lying around, and without missing a beat he had said, “You have no idea how much shit I have 'just lying around.'
"I got a spare pair for Ever's dog, Squatch to keep here. He's terrified of thunderstorms and vacuums and will literally drop turds from one end of the building to the other, runnin’ around hollering like he’s bein’ gutted. Put these on him, and he's good to go.”
“What sort of sexual practice is Lectamia?” Ruckus shouted like a drill sergeant.
Athena bounced up and down, whining like she had to pee, chanting under her breath, “I know that one! It's on the tip of my tongue!”
Dillon waited while Ever and Ripley thought about it for a full minute before answering,
“Cuddling in bed without intercourse.”
“Correct!” Ruckus whooped.
Dillon took aim and hit the heart of the target, taking a moment to appreciate the fun she was having.
Dillon now was in the lead with 150 points, Ever had 145, Athena 120, and Ripley—the least comfortable shooter—was in last with 95.
“Alright, ladies! This one’s a twofer for the final score! Fifty points for answering the question correctly, and another fifty for hitting anywhere in the red. Answer the question and shoot. What is... Jesus, how do you even pronounce this?”
Ruckus tipped his trivia card to Gee, who shrugged and passed it to Nasa.
“Bas-oh-rex-eeah,” Nasa enunciated slowly.
"Right-oh!" Ruckus gave a hard bounce of his head as though giving his factory settings a reset. “Ripley, you're up. What is basorexia? “
Ripley made a face and looked to Saint for help. He gave a shrug of uncertainty. “Um, an STD?”
Ruckus made a buzzer sound, loudly. “Wrong! Shoot!”
Ripley took her shot, hit the red, and put her pistol down with a little pout. Roar walked out then with his daughter strapped to his muscular chest, and his hand fisted in his son's overalls like he was toting around a suitcase.
“What the hell? I go out to get food for everyone, and y'all didn't tell me you were having a contest? That's not fair; you know my wife is the best.”
“Yeah! What da hells?” Lyon echoed in the same disgruntled tone as his father. “Mama! Are you winnin'?”
Ever laughed, full and throaty at her boys. “It's pretty close.”
“We're in the final round of Trivial Pur-Shoot,” Ruckus announced, waving his hand around imperiously. “You're holding up the game, so take a seat and hush. One hundred points are on the line. Athena, what is basorexia?”
“An eating disorder?” Athena offered hopefully, and got the loud buzzer from Ruckus. “Aw, poop.”
Athena hit the target dead on, giving Ripley a high-five to commiserate their half-win.
Ruckus asked Ever next, and Lyon screamed like a howler monkey, still held
