The Taste of Home

Chapter 9

Stacks of metal bottles painted to look like hot sauce stood beneath the massive stuffed animals dangling from the ceiling. This was easily Zest Fest's most popular game, with winding lines of people clamoring for their shot. Most managed to knock the top bottle to the ground. A few conquered the second row.

The bottles at the base remained upright no matter how hard the balls smacked against them.

"Now this I have a shot at." Alejandro stretched his arms as they reached the front of the line. Miguel's eyes traced the curve of the muscles pressing against his sleeves. Humans might not be built for hunting, but they were a lot stronger than their short stature made them look. "I'm pretty rusty, but I used to play baseball in high school."

"Anybody can do it if they try hard enough," the booth's owner said. His smile stretched across his face as easily as his hand stretched over the counter. "It's five bucks for three balls."

"I'm in."

Miguel backed out of elbowing range. "You've got this!"

The first ball whistled through the air, sending half the bottles clattering to the ground. Hollow metal rang through the booth as the rest of the middle tier followed suit.

Only the bottom row remained.

Alejandro carefully positioned his fingers around his last ball. Once he was satisfied with his grip, he wound up his arm before snapping it forward.

The ball bounced off the last row as if it had hit a brick wall. Instead of ringing hollowly like the other bottles, these let out a muffled thud.

"Ooh, tough luck!" The booth's owner rummaged around before holding out a bucket full of glow sticks. "Three bottles left means you get one of these."

"Guess my arm isn't what it used to be." Alejandro selected a red glow stick from the bucket.

"Hang on," Miguel said, the spines on his neck bristling. "What's in those bottles? There's no way a throw like that couldn't knock any down."

"Nothing out of the ordinary." The man craned his neck to examine the increasingly anxious line growing behind Miguel. "Either pay up or go suck a goat. I don't have all day."

Alejandro put a calming hand on Miguel's arm. "It's normal for games to be rigged," he muttered.

"I promised I'd win you that bear, and that's what I'm going to do." Miguel slapped a five-dollar bill onto the counter. "Pass me those balls."

What had been just a line of people waiting to take their turn grew into a crowd as Miguel attracted an audience. More than a few of the observers carried cayenne-dusted popcorn, crunching on fistfuls of it as they watched the standoff between the chupacabra and the con artist.

"Alright, but don't get pissy if you don't win." The man patted the walkie-talkie hanging from his shorts. "Security knows how to deal with rowdy customers."

"I'll keep that in mind," Miguel hissed as he brought himself into a hunter's crouch.

The first ball was as cool as an egg in his hand. He stared down his target, pulled back his arm, and threw.

Bang! The ball smacked the back of the booth, leaving the bottles untouched.

"Nice aim, hotshot. Try not to rip a hole, okay?"

Miguel swallowed a growl.

"You have to guide it a little more," Alejandro said. "Like this."

Alejandro's skin was warm and soft on Miguel's scales as he guided his arm through the motions. "It works best if you can shift your weight from your back foot to your front. That puts your whole body into the throw, not just your arm."

"Not sure if I can do that." Miguel nodded toward his bad leg. "I'd probably knock myself over instead of the bottles."

"We'll stick with just your arm, then." Alejandro leaned over his shoulder, so close Miguel couldn't smell anything but his familiar lavender scent. "You'll want to aim at the smallest target you can. Not a whole bottle, but a scratch or a dent."

Miguel fixed his gaze on a speck of silver peeking through one of the bottles' flaking paint. "Got it."

He thrummed with pleasure as Alejandro guided his arm through the motions one last time, only to let out a startled snort. Why did it feel so right to have a human touching him? A human he wanted to make happy so that moonbeam smile would shine on him again.

"Focus," Miguel hissed under his breath. He could sort out whatever he was feeling later.

Right now, he had to win that bear.

Miguel held the ball close to his chest before bringing his arm back and throwing it with all his might. A thunderous roar ripped through the booth as most of the stack fell, leaving only one bottle remaining.

"Shit, how the hell—!" The man sucked in a breath, forcing his scowl into a twitchy grin. "Still one left."

Miguel steadied his breathing as if he was sneaking up on an unsuspecting rabbit. He slowly shifted his arm into position, muscles twitching as he stared at his target.

Just as he started to bring his arm forward, the man coughed.

Miguel's hand lashed out like a rattlesnake striking its prey. The ball struck the neck of the bottle so hard the metal slammed against the platform with a resounding crack before coming to rest on its side.

The crowd gathered around the tent gave Miguel a round of applause, but the man tsked. "Too bad. You were so close."

"What are you talking about? I knocked them all over!"

"Yeah, but you have to knock them off the platform."

"Since when?" Miguel's claws dug into the counter. He'd earned that bear fair and square, yet here this man was pulling a rule out of thin air. That wasn't new, at least not in his experience with humans.

So why was it getting him so stiff-spined now?

"Since always." The man thrust the bucket of glow sticks toward Miguel. His other hand crept toward the walkie-talkie. "Take your prize and leave. We wouldn't want any problems now, would we?"

"He won," Alejandro said firmly. "And there won't be any problems if you just—"

"It's fine," Miguel said through gritted teeth. He grabbed a glow stick with far more force than he needed to, letting his claws scrape the bucket's flimsy plastic on the way out as his gaze drifted to the bear. He'd find another way to get one for Alejandro. He had to.