Stolen - By Daniel Palmer Page 0,3

sweet as the mint tea tasted on her lips.

“All right, then, let’s go,” I whispered between gentle kisses planted on her freckled cheeks.

“But I need you to quiz me.”

I sat up.

“Quiz you?” I said. “Ruby, it’s after midnight.”

Ruby surprised me by breaking into song. “And we’re gonna let it all hang out,” she sang.

The melody was to the tune of one of our favorite Eric Clapton covers. Ruby held up a finger for me to see. That was her way of marking the musical reference as being worth one point in our long-standing game. A point could be earned if either of us completed a song lyric, tune required, from something the other had said. We didn’t keep a running tally, because it was obvious Ruby possessed an insurmountable lead. Let’s just say if Jeopardy devoted an entire board to trivia about music and bands, she’d clear it without giving the other contestants a chance to buzz.

Ruby got off the sofa to grab her schoolbooks.

As I waited, I ran my hands through my hair, half expecting to feel the long locks I had chopped off after the Labuche Kang tragedy. A lot about my appearance had changed in the aftermath of that day. My face still looked young but had weathered, with newly formed creases and crevices, which Ruby thought made me ruggedly handsome. My eyes had grown deeper set, too, and like mountain river streams, changed color with the day or my mood. Sometimes they were clear like a well-marked path, but at other times they’d cloud over, and Ruby would ask, “What are you thinking?” Ruby was the only person who could see through my haze, burrow into me, to get beyond the surface layers I allowed others to see. After the shock, the therapy sessions, the black depression, it was Ruby who brought me back from the brink. She held the map to my soul.

Ruby returned with backpack in hand.

“You can’t really be serious about wanting me to quiz you,” I said. “How can your brain even function?”

“Remember when I said that I loved how small our place is?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah.”

“I lied.”

“Oh.”

“Well, not entirely. I do like being close to you.”

“We could be closer,” I said with a wink.

“Come on, baby. Just a quick quiz tonight.”

I pretended to have fallen asleep, and Ruby needled me again in the ribs, this time with her fingers.

“I’m up! I’m up!” I said, feigning alertness.

Ruby ruffled through her backpack, looking for her notes, but something else caught her eye. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “I went to the computer lab and made you something today.”

“Moi?”

Ruby removed a single sheet of paper from a folder in her backpack. It was a logo for my online game, One World. I loved the overall design she made, but it was the O in the word One that literally took away my breath.

She had created three concentric circles. The outer circle she rendered to look like wood grain, the next circle was made to look like rock, another like water, and in the center was the earth. It was astoundingly beautiful. “Professional” didn’t do it justice.

“Ruby, I’m speechless. I love it.”

“I’m so glad. It took me a while, but I think it came out great. What’s today’s number?”

“One hundred twenty-three thousand registered players.”

Ruby broke into a smile. “Forget acupuncture. You’re taking us to Beverly Hills, baby!”

“Last I checked, mortgage companies aren’t accepting future potential as a down payment on a mansion. I really need closer to a million registered players before I can start touting my rags-to-riches story.”

“I believe in you, John. I know it’s going to happen.”

I made a “Who knows?” shrug.

With a hundred thousand registered players, I should be rolling in the dough. Only, I didn’t charge people to play. I’d basically built FarmVille meets Minecraft. It’s an eco-conscious game, which takes longer to build a loyal enough following to start charging a fee. Like a lot of game designers, I make my money selling virtual items that enhance the game play. After expenses, I cleared about fifty thousand dollars, most of which got reinvested back into the business. In addition to Ruby’s tuition, we have other expenses to pay as well. Rent. Food. Bills. Insurance. All the usual suspects. Hence, no cable.

“I’m glad you like the logo,” Ruby said.

“I don’t just like it. I love it. It goes live tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m going to get something to drink before we start. Want anything?”

“No,” I said.

I watched her go. Hard not to. I