Rules of Play (The Script Club 2)

3

George

The comfy leather chair tucked into the corner near the fireplace was my favorite reading spot in the house. It was far enough from the bright-red sectional anchoring the space that it was possible to read while my roommates were watching television or hanging out nearby.

Confession…I was a lurker. Not the creepy kind. I was the type who liked being around my chosen people without being required to interact. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to my friends. It was more a matter of not wanting to make excuses when my social meter ran out. Which it invariably did.

Tonight, I had the living room to myself. Asher was upstairs working on a new Star Wars puzzle, Holden and Tommy were at school, and Topher was most likely somewhere with Simon. Perfect. After another wacky day, I relished the quiet.

Buzz. Buzz.

My cell vibrated on the end table with an incoming message.

From Aiden.

Just seeing his name on my cell made my palms clammy. I’d kissed Aiden Baker for no apparent reason. Beer hadn’t happened. That had been all me.

I’d replayed the walk from the bar to his truck over and over in my head…partly because it was hot as hell, but it was confusing too. A quick, drunken peck with a coworker was nothing compared to sucking face with your brother’s best friend. I obviously had a problem.

I chalked up my sudden heart palpitations to post-kiss nerves as I set my book aside to read the text.

I have an estimate for you. If you’re cool with it, I’ll tow your SUV to Simon’s place and start on it after work tomorrow. Lmk.

Simon’s place?

I frowned at the message and immediately pressed Call.

“What do you mean ‘Simon’s place’?” I asked in greeting.

“Genius George? Is that you?”

“You know it’s me,” I growled. “You agreed not to involve Simon in this, Aiden. You said you wouldn’t—”

“Whoa. Relax,” he commanded in a deep, soothing tone. “I had to sort out some possible logistics, but I wouldn’t do anything without your okay. I promise.”

“What kind of logistics?”

Aiden sighed. “I need space to work on your transmission and—”

“My transmission,” I repeated, slumping in my chair. “That sounds menacing.”

“It’s not the end of the world, G. And you have options.”

“Such as?”

“You can get a brand-spanking-new one for about a grand or…I can rebuild yours, which literally cuts the price to approximately three hundred. Maybe less.”

“That’s a no-brainer. I vote for a rebuild. I need Willy to survive at least till September.”

“That won’t be a problem, but there is one issue.” He waited a beat. “My uncle is going to charge for my time if I do the repairs at his garage, so I can either do this as a side job and only charge you for parts or…I can help you shop around and find a reputable place that won’t rob you blind.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Simon said I can use his driveway to—”

“No, I don’t want to owe Simon anything,” I insisted emphatically. “I’m serious, Aiden. I’ll pay for everything myself or trade analytical services with you or whatever. I don’t want my brothers bailing me out…again.”

“Look, maybe you don’t want your brother’s help, but I’m not too proud to admit I could use a few pointers.” Aiden gave me a brief rundown of a discussion he’d had with my brother involving career opportunities and athletic directors. “This business is all about networking. Simon has connections, I don’t.”

“You’re one of his best friends, Aiden. He’d do it for you even if you didn’t help me,” I grumbled.

“Maybe so, but that’s just how the game is played. A polite exchange of friendly currency is the norm. You do something for me, I do something for you.”

“In this case, you’re scratching each other’s balls for my sake,” I huffed irritably. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m not helpless. I resent my family swooping in to solve my problems like I’m incapable of doing anything practical on my own. And fuck you anyway. We had a deal.”

“We do. I’m shamelessly trading favors with two Murphy brothers to get a leg up in a new profession.”

“Somehow I doubt you need my help.”

“That’s not true,” he insisted. “I’m getting ready to send over three pages of analytics along with the estimate. Look for my email in three, two, one…”

I smiled reluctantly at his rocket launch sound effects as I stared at the ornate molding on the ceiling. “I know without even looking at your report or the estimate that this isn’t a fair exchange.”

“It’s fair if I say so. Quit arguing with me, G. I’ll tow your Bronco to Simon’s place tomorrow morning and—”

“No. You can use my driveway. I’ll clear it with my roommates, but I don’t think they’ll have a problem with it.”

“All right,” Aiden agreed.

“Thank you.”