Rules of Play (The Script Club 2) - Page 51

You got it. See you then, baby, I typed. I erased “baby” and stared at my screen, added it back, and stared some more.

I glanced up at the building I’d just left and down at my phone. A sudden wave of longing hit me out of the blue.

This was what I wanted. The job I wanted, the man I wanted, the life I wanted. I felt like I’d been given a glimpse at a future that could be mine if my luck held. So I rolled the dice, pushed Send, and drove out of the lot.

“Need a push?”

George flashed a brilliant smile as he dragged his bare feet in the sand and gestured to the empty swing next to him. “No, thanks. I saved you a spot, though. How was your day, dear?”

I shrugged, bending to kiss him before lowering myself onto the plastic swing. Don’t worry, folks, it was safe. There was no one around to witness the kiss or me trying to fit my ass on playground equipment I’d outgrown a couple of decades ago.

“A little good, a little meh. You?”

“Great,” he beamed. “I was invited to enroll in two exoplanet courses at Caltech and…I received an intent to hire notification from my department. I’ll be a full-time NASA employee in September.”

“Congratulations!” I yanked the chain on his swing and pulled him to me. I held his face in my hands and kissed him. “I’m proud of you, G.”

“Thanks. I’m shell-shocked. Helping Newton turned out to be a good thing after all. I told him I didn’t want daily reports on his budding relationship, but I get the impression it’s going well.”

“Hey, you didn’t get that job because of Newton. That’s all you. You’re a smart man. And let’s be honest, Newton didn’t need your advice, he needed a friend.”

“Maybe. Tell me about your day.”

“Don’t we have to leave?”

“Not yet. The traffic across town will be brutal now. And this is nice.”

It was nice. The balmy late-May temps had a pre-summery feel without the excess heat. I could smell a nearby barbecue and voices in the distance. The city built a larger playground in the vicinity with state-of-the-art equipment and sand volleyball courts. There tended to be more activity on that end. No doubt this older section would be razed to make way for something sleeker…and safer, I mused, noting the layer of grime and rust on the steel posts.

I pulled myself back to reality and filled him in on my day. Sort of. I didn’t mention the interview, but I did tell him about my asshole uncle who inexplicably wanted me to cover two shifts this weekend to make up for time I’d taken off for school.

“Has he always been a jerk?”

“Always. Hank’s my mom’s older brother, and he was good friends with my dad. They were drinking buddies.”

“I don’t remember your dad. Were you close?”

I shook my head. “No. Not at all. Dad didn’t notice me unless my team was winning. And those accolades lasted until he needed a fix. The sad part is that he wasn’t a bad guy, but he could have been better, ya know? He got lazy early. He never applied himself or followed through with anything important. That’s what a lifetime of drugs and alcohol does to a body. His heart gave out when he was forty-six. Forty-fucking-six. It’s criminal.”

“What about your mom?”

“She died seven years later…same thing. You’ve probably noticed that I don’t drink anything stronger than beer, and I rarely have more than two. I don’t want to end up like them. Bitter and sad.”

He inclined his head and spoke softly. “That won’t happen, Aiden. You know, I thought about you a lot back then…after your mom died. I was in college and I didn’t see you much after Simon graduated. But I wondered about you. I wish I would have reached out.”

“You were mad at me, remember? You thought I stole your girl,” I teased.

“Not really. I—”

“I’m kidding, G. Be glad you didn’t see much of me. That was a rough time, and I wasn’t at my best. I was twenty-three and renting a room at a dump on Sierra Madre. I went from working part-time at Hank’s garage and talking to a couple of scouts to borrowing money from Hank to bury my mom. His loan came with the caveat that I work for him full-time. I did it ’cause I didn’t think I had any other options.”

“Now you do.”

“I do. Or I will.” I poked at his foot with my shoe and smiled. “I should thank you for being a good role model.”

“My study habits are legendary,” George boasted with a chuckle.

“True, but I always looked up to you, G.”

He stilled his feet and twisted the swing to face me, his brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m younger than you.”

Tags: Lane Hayes The Script Club Romance
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