Zenon's Game Chapter 106

Suddenly, music came bursting out of the stereo: Magic Mike – Pony

A half-na*k*ed Channing Tatum and his Chippendale crew was the image that came into our minds....

That base hit embarrassment deeper inside of me with each note.

Any romantic moment immediately shattered. I could cringe until my pension kicks in and it still wouldn't be enough.

Zenon swerved the car, and the phone fell out of my lap as I tried to stop the song. I only managed to turn the magic – I mean music ­– up.

"I see where your mind's at," he smirked, having lost control of the car after being so distracted.

Right when he said that, a text came through on my phone:

I changed my mind about backing off. I'm in NYC for the next two weeks but when I come back I want you to get to know me – Jake Albert

"Okayy. That's a message we'll bring up later," I mumbled to myself as I quickly dismissed Jake's text.

A problem for another day.

Along with the blackmailer. This morning I had woken up to a bowl of cornflakes and a side of blackmail. Another letter had been slipped under my front door. It said:

YoU hAvE iGnOrEd My EvErY wArNiNg. NoW cOmE cOnSeQuEnCeS. tHe NeCkLaCe WaS jUsT tHe BeGiNnInG.

My next pitstop after stopping by Axel's home this morning, was the police. Only now, I was with Zenon.

"Hey Zenon, do you think we can stop by the police station first?" I asked.

"Can't wait until after our date?" he asked back, "I know sh*t seems to follow us around, but let's try putting everything on pause. For one afternoon, let's enjoy us."

"You're right," I agreed, saying quietly, "This is something I've really look forward to."

"Me too," he smiled softly, "I haven't been so excited for a date in... ever."

"A GARDEN GNOME!" I yelled, tapping my finger against the glass.

My face pressed against the window and I pointed at the receding garden gnome on the side of the road.

"ZENON! There's a garden gnome on the street!"

"Ok, ok," he said, slowing the car down. He muttered, "We would stop for a garden gnome."

Before the car had come to a full stop, I threw my seat belt off in the most dramatic of fashions and hopped out of the car. Yes, hopped.

"Gnomey!" I yelled, running towards it. This gnome had the exact same yellow hat that my one had. I ran towards it and picked it up from the side of the road, swinging it in my arms, "This looks exactly like my gnome!"

I stared back at Zenon, who was failing to react with as much excitement. He took his time getting out of the car.

I searched for any identifier, anything to suggest where it had come from. A folded note slipped out of its clay hand. Confused, I opened it.

Good things come to gnomes who wait.

I looked up. "Zenon, did you write this?"

I recognized the chicken scratch handwriting.

Zenon's chicken scratch is what confused the camp counselors this summer when they thought we lived in the same house and could therefore live in the same cabin.

I'd never forget that handwriting.

Holding gnomey in my arms, I turned to face him.  "Was this meant to be here? Did you plant this?"

He didn't respond. He stood still a few yards away from me with his blue eyes smoldering into an ocean of colors.  

And that's when I saw a furry animal in the grass beside his feet. I pointed at it.

He didn't move and it didn't move. I walked towards the creature and realized it was a stuffed animal. 

A lemur, to be precise.

I picked it up and read the note hanging off its tail: You can't rush something you want to last.

The zen lemur.

Before I could react, I spotted another animal a little further ahead. I ran towards it, knowing already that it was a stuffed animal Zenon had planted.

A raccoon.

I plucked it out of the grass and read the note: You may be the world's worst driver, but you know how to drive me crazy.

The emotions were bubbling inside of me. The memories of the zen lemur, the raccoon... everything we had been through together.  How it was all just the beginning.  How well he knew me... It was becoming too much.

I saw another object that didn't fit into the natural landscape.

A basketball.