Forgotten Lyrics

“That’s the second shot you missed!”

Zaron scowled and shrugged his stiff left shoulder as the ‘9’ billiard ball rebounded off the edge of the pocket. “Must’ve used all my luck up last night.”

Ginger scoffed, giving him a cocky smile as she leveled her pool cue to take her shot. “You know, most guys use their ‘luck’ up on girls, not card games.”

“Who says I need luck for that?”

Ginger laughed and the billiard balls CRACKed from a solid shot.

Across the bar Zaron caught a table of tribal youths eyeing his — Zaron flexed his jaw. He’d have to reign in any harmless thoughts about what ‘his’ was before it spilled carelessly out. Nevertheless, it bothered him, how their vitals spiked as she leaned over the pool table. Stepping around to obstruct their view of Ginger as she obliterated him for the fifth game in a row, Zaron took a long, slow drink from the beer he held, meeting every one of their now sheepish, irritated, and fearful gazes.

“And that’s game!”

Zaron blinked and turned to Ginger and her smug grin. “You gotta be shittin’ me, Red.”

She shrugged humbly and plucked the bottle from his hand. “I don’t pull punches when it comes to winning.”

He pretended not to notice the wink she shot past him at the teenagers, then thought twice and nudged her. “They’re boys,” he murmured seriously.

Ginger took his pool cue from him with a charmed sort of look, as if he’d said something endearing. “The youngest of them is eighteen. They’ve all had their manhood ceremonies, or they wouldn’t be allowed in here.”

Zaron watched her clean up, maintaining his stubborn vigil between her and the rest of the bar patrons. “You know a lot about the Salish-Shidhe.”

She leisurely went about collecting the billiards. “I know about a lot of things,” Ginger mused with a mysterious wink just for him.

His head listed to one side, eyes narrowed from a curious smirk. “What do you know about me?”

Ginger pursed her lips in smile and meandered back over, sipping from their shared drink before returning it to him. “I thought we weren’t going to share about ourselves.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you about me, but you’re too smart to not look into a stranger sharing the back of your bike.”

She grinned. Sitting back on the edge of the pool table she up-nodded. “You’re right. But I won tonight, so you first, hot shot. Who am I?”

Zaron swirled the beer in the bottle as he watched her. “You go by ‘Ginger’.”

“Go by?”

“That’s right. Not ‘Thumper’ or ‘Airwave’ trashy bull people get named today. I get the feeling you’re a full Goverment name kind of gal, just can’t find it. No registered family. You’re the head mechanic for the battle racing arena’s top drivers, even though your records at unregulated tracks beat theirs. You favor dark chocolate cappuccinos, and switch from a ponytail to a messy bun when you’re flustered.”

Pink crept into her cheeks, and Zaron grinned wide as she stopped herself from putting up the long red hair spilling around her shoulders.

“Your turn, Red.”

Ginger met his gaze, and her clear blue eyes made him feel like the boys at the other side of the bar.

“You’re none other than Zaron Ward. Bodyguard and hitman for the Koshari. In spite of your height, downtown you have quite a few cute nicknames.”

Zaron groaned. “Can we please not with the nicknames.”

“Sure.” There was mischief in her eyes, and he had a sinking feeling this wouldn’t be the end of it. “Your only registered family is your brother. Completed three years of Criminology at Gonzaga. You like your coffee black, the whole left side of your body is bionic, and you have terrible taste in music.”

The last comment surprised him, distracting him from how her gaze seemed to linger on his sore shoulder. Zaron huffed in amusement. “This is classic music, I’ll have you know.”

Ginger laughed as he gestured proudly to the jukebox he’d paid two hours worth of songs on. “It’s all a hundred years old!”

Zaron felt the fluttering in his gut again. The mention of his cybernetics had made him wary by default, but he was two days overdue for his nanite injections and the pain of withdrawl completely vanished when she was close. For all he could tell she was a normal human, but to feel like he did? It was one question he couldn’t bring himself to ask.”

“… So you don’t know any of these?”

“I didn’t say that!”

He gave a lopsided smirk. “Okay then, ‘Champ’.”

Ginger stuck her tongue out at him.

“Mature. What’s this song?”

She glanced up at the old ceiling speakers and hummed a few chords.

“Hm-hmm hm — stop us toniiiight. My Amore -“

Zaron barked a laugh. “That’s not it at all!”

“It is too! The song’s name is ‘My Amore’.”

Still laughing, he set their now empty drink bottle aside. “It’s ‘Bailamos’, Red.”

“Oh, so you’re a Spanish expert now, are you, ‘Crusher’?” she challenged as she grinned.

He wagged a threatening finger playfully, and it only made her smile more. “I am, actually. An expert at Spanish and dancing.” He offered a hand out to her as he nodded to the dance floor.

“Nooo, no,” she refused quickly. “I don’t dance.”

“Don’t know how?” He stepped towards her, assessing her body language for any red flags. There were none.

“Won’t,” she responded with resolve. “Dancing is too personal — Hey!”

A hand hooking smoothly behind the small of her back, Zaron swept her towards the small dancing crowd before she could stop him.

“W-What are you doing?!”

He spun Ginger around and pulled her close. Zaron guided them in a short rumba turn, and leaned down till their cheeks brushed together. “Making it personal.”