“Hang on,” said Jonah, pausing his hand mid-shake. “Royal Spader?”
“Yeah, I know,” said Spader, who shook his head with a snort. With his flannel cut-off, skull-and-bones T-shirt, and long, stringy reddish-orange hair, Jonah thought this boy should be on a tour bus with an alt-rock band, not tucked in an estate in Rome, North Carolina. “I didn't name myself. Blame my Dad. I came along on a night he experienced a windfall with a royal flush that was all in a suit of spades. Ironic, given that my family name is Spader. Dad thought I was a good omen, so there it is. But from what I've heard, the best person to have on your side is you, Jonah Rowe!”
Jonah didn't quite know how to respond to that, so after a generic “Thanks,” he sought out his old friends. Terrence caught up with him and lowe
