Four Play: A Collection of Novellas

by Silver, Amalie

  “It’s magic-hands Michael. The guy from this morning,” Monica quipped.

  Lauren’s innocent giggle rang in the background, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Oh! Did he bring my dress? I want to wear it to the bar tonight!”

  “You two are going to the bar in the lobby, right?” I asked.

  Monica nodded and took the plastic bag from my hand. “We are. Will you be there?”

  “For a while.” I let my eyes rake over her body and I shoved my thumbs into my belt loops—not knowing whether shoving my thumbs in my belt loops made me look lame like Wham! or if it made me look cool.

  “Hey, Michael. You didn’t need to bring my…” Lauren came into view, opening the door farther. She wore a sundress with orange flowers on it, and a wide smile. But the moment she saw me, she stopped speaking and a blush rose to her cheeks.

  “I wanted to make sure you got it,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if I’d run into you at the bar.” I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Monica, who bit her lip.

  Lauren’s body language shifted and her smile faded. “Oh,” she said, disappointedly. Clearing her throat, she fiddled with a hairbrush in her hand. “No problem. Thanks.” She took the dry cleaning and walked slowly back into the room. The sway in her hips was hard not to notice, and her long, wet hair swished over her slender back.

  Monica caught me staring, and not so subtly cleared her throat. I snapped out of it and gave her my full attention again.

  Because Lauren wasn’t going to get me the Seattle job. Monica was.

  I cleared my throat and nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you at the bar?”

  Monica smirked, biting her lip.

  Turning, I gave her one last look and strutted down the hallway like I owned it.

  Then I tripped. I fell forward and had to brace myself against the wall so I wouldn’t fall face first on the floor.

  Awesome, Mike. Way to work that swagger.

  With my face flaming red in embarrassment I turned back, hoping and praying Monica didn’t just witness my monumental humiliation.

  And the universe officially hates me.

  Of course she was still standing there in the doorway watching me. She lifted her fingers and wiggled them in a wave and I awkwardly waved back, discreetly rubbing my elbow, which had slammed against the wall in my failed attempt at coolness.

  The façade was going to be a lot harder to keep up than I’d thought.

  ***

  I needed a game plan. If I was going to get a woman like Monica into my bed, I would need to figure out what kind of man she wanted.

  From the way she’d gawked at me upstairs, I’d say she’d already considered my sexual potential. I just hoped my personality wouldn’t be a letdown. Then again, I didn’t know how much of my personality she was hoping to get to know. That was exactly why I needed to be someone else for the weekend.

  There was no way I’d be charming enough just by being me.

  I had to think. If I was building a character in a story, who would Monica choose to fall for? The Knight: chivalrous, undaunted, and rough around the edges? What about the Detective: brainy, inconspicuous, observant? Maybe she wanted the Scorned Billionaire: a man who cared about his business and his money, but used women like two-cent whores on Bourbon Street.

  Who was I kidding? I’d never been to New Orleans.

  I’d never been anywhere.

  Whatever Monica wanted, I had to think of something quickly, because she and Lauren would be on their way to the bar any minute.

  “What are you thinking about, Mike?” Duncan asked, ordering another round from the bartender.

  “Nothing.” I sighed. “That’s a lie. Let’s say I decided to go through with Jack’s bet,” I said quietly, with my knee bouncing under the table. “What am I supposed to say to her?”

  Duncan laughed. “You’re asking us?” He raised an eyebrow. “We couldn’t get laid in a brothel.” He laughed at his own words. “Not that I’m looking to get laid,” he backtracked, gesturing the sign of the cross over his chest.

  Martin removed one earbud and stopped his scribbling momentarily to listen in on our conversation.

  “If I knew what hot chicks wanted, I would’ve become that guy a long time ago. I don’t know what I was thinking taking this bet,” I said, irritated.

  “You can always back out. Why bother giving Jack the satisfaction of seeing you make an ass of yourself? I’d say screw it before it goes any further,” Duncan suggested.

  The blond server walked over with a tray carrying two drinks for the three of us. Trying to go unnoticed, Martin slyly leaned to the side to check out her ass.

  “So I won’t do it, then. I’ll wave goodbye to any chances I have with one of the most prestigious copywriting firms on the West Coast because I don’t have the nutsack to pull off a one-night stand with a beautiful woman.”

  Duncan nodded at the server, and Marty slipped her a twenty dollar bill. With a wink, he said, “Keep the change.”

  Dunc took a double-take at Marty’s broken silence, and then focused on our conversation again. “Why do you suppose Jack made the bet to begin with?”

  “It was stupid,” I said. “He was being arrogant, and I decided to call him out on it. He told me that if I was a good writer, I’d be able to become any character I needed to. Getting Monica in the sack would decide whether I succeeded or not. It’s stupid. And messed up. I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this,” I groaned.

  “So he made this offer to you because he thinks he’s a better writer than you?” Dunc raised his eyebrows in question.

  I huffed. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what he thinks.”

  He leaned in close, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the music. “Is he better than you?”

  “I don’t see how me acting like a gigolo is going to prove that I’m a better writer,” I replied.

  “Oh, come on, Mike. You know better than that. Since when did you become so freaking gullible? Jack isn’t doing this to prove that he’s better. He’s doing it to prove that you can’t do it. And to make you look like a dickhead in the process.”

  “Fuck that. He’s a sleaze. All of us see it. He can believe anything he wants, but the bottom line is that if I get this job, we’ll both be on the bottom of the Bolten and Knox totem pole, and he knows it. We’ll be the bottom-feeders of the corporate food chain.”

  Dunc leaned back in his chair. “But it sure would be nice walking in every morning knowing that you undeniably beat him at something, wouldn’t it?”

  “Hello, boys,” Monica said, pulling out a chair at the table parallel to ours. Her red skirt was short—so short that I was pretty sure I got a glimpse of ass cheek as she sat down. She slowly uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs.

  And nope, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  Duncan gave a pathetic wave, and Martin stuck his earphones back into both of his ears.

  “Monica.” I nodded. “Lauren.” I took a double-take at Lauren and found myself more intrigued by the barest glimpse of cleavage I got as she sat down than I was by Monica going commando.

  Monica peered sideways, and Lauren gave us a half-smile. “Where’s what’s-his-face, your friend from last night?” Monica asked, opening a menu.

  “Haven’t seen him for a few hours. He’s M.I.A.,” Dunc said, trying to sound smooth but failing miserably. “Have you met my friend Mike? He’s an awesome guy. Talented, outspoken, gets chicks all the time.”

  I slouched, covering my eyes and shaking my head. “Jesus,” I mumbled.

  Marty’s body shook as he tried to conceal his laughter. It confirmed what I’d suspected for quite some time: he only wore his earbuds so that people wouldn’t speak to him, when in reality he was listening to every word around him. Sly little shit.

  “Does he now?” Monica giggled. She swept her curly dark red hair behind her shoulder and looked down at the menu.

  “No,” I shot back, embarrassed. “He doesn’t.”


  “That’s a lie,” Dunc protested, acting just as awkward as he always had around women. “Mike’s the player in our group. A different chick every weekend. No, every night, I mean! Sometimes even two or three chicks a night. Watch out for this one, ladies. And whatever you do, don’t go falling in love with him,” he said seriously. “A heartbreaker, this one is.”

  I cringed, and laughed into the crook of my elbow, keeping my head down. If I had any chance at winning this stupid thing, Duncan had just blown it for me.

  “A sensible woman doesn’t believe in insta-love, no matter how well the story is told. If she falls in love in less than a weekend, then she’s desperate,” Monica stated with complete conviction. “So if Mike is the manwhore, and the one in the yellow tennis shoes over there is Silent Bob, what does that make you?” she asked Duncan. “Or are you just Mike’s pimp?”

  Jack walked through the bar entrance and gave me a nod, stopping to order a drink while Duncan squirmed.

  “I’m uh… I guess I’d be… Well, I’m Duncan.”

  “Just Duncan. No title? Are you Duncan the knight? Duncan the biker guy? Duncan the cowboy? Duncan the detective? Duncan the domineering millionaire?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or are you just Duncan, the comic relief?”

  Jack put his money on the bar, walked toward us, and sat next to Lauren at their table.

  I kept my eye on him, almost forgetting that I should’ve been listening to the conversation at hand, but I didn’t trust Jack. Lauren seemed like too nice of a person to get tangled in his grisly pickup lines.

  Lauren didn’t look comfortable with the seating arrangement. She fidgeted and avoided eye contact while Jack scooted his chair closer to her. He really was a sleaze.

  All the while, Monica and Duncan continued their embarrassing dialogue.

  Beads of sweat gathered on Dunc’s forehead and he wiped them away in annoyance. Monica ate it up, enjoying his discomfort. She seemed like the man-eater sort.

  I could tell that she had the game nailed. I wouldn’t doubt that she’d made Duncan pitch a tent just by looking at him.

  Poor guy.

  “So what did he mean by domineering, Michael?” Monica asked, directing the conversation back toward me again.

  I had to think back to what Duncan said a few minutes earlier.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m the player.” I let the words drip from my lips, honey on my tongue. “A dominating master between the sheets.” I continued, seeing how far I could stretch it before she slapped me. It was also important to save Duncan from a fate worse than humiliating death. “So if you’re asking if you can find out, the answer is yes. But you’ll have to be a good girl tonight and obey me. Otherwise you’ll get a flogging.”

  I had no idea where my sudden courage came from, but I had a feeling there was only one kind of guy who would get an instant reaction from her.

  And I nailed it.

  Monica tried to hide her shock by smoothing her features and chewing the inside of her cheek. Swinging her legs to the side, slowly crossing them and shifting her body to face me, she then leaned in and whispered, “I don’t fuck men I don’t know.”

  Riiiiight. I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “So be it then. ‘Sometimes a loss is the best thing that can happen. It teaches you what you should do the next time.’”

  In my heated conversation, I hadn’t seen how far Jack had taken the whole creepy vibe thing with Lauren at the other end of Monica’s table. Lauren tried finding Monica’s foot to kick under their table and I spotted her nonverbal cry for help. But Lauren was shit out of luck: Monica ignored her. No one was saving her.

  Monica’s eyes bored into mine, and her knuckles turned white gripping the edge of the table. “I know that quote,” she said seductively. “Hemmingway? Eliot?” She shook her head. “No! Vonnegut?”

  I couldn’t focus on Monica, and kept my eye on Jack just over her shoulder. He smoothed back his black hair, and a small dribble gathered on his bottom lip. His stare was intense, giving me the willies, and I immediately stood and walked over.

  “Snoop Dogg,” I muttered back to Monica, barely looking over my shoulder. “Lauren, may I speak with you for a moment?” I interrupted Jack.

  He narrowed his eyes, sucking in through his teeth. But Lauren was happy to oblige; she stood quickly and grabbed her purse, tucking the chair in, and then marched into the lobby. Monica sat stunned in her chair, and I chalked up another point for the win. First rule in playing the asshole: ignore the girl.

  “You okay?” I asked once Lauren stopped. The lobby was empty except for the desk clerk.

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “How are you friends with that guy?”

  I raked my hand through my hair. “I’m not, really. We all graduated from Virginia Tech last month, and this weekend was sort of a going away present from our professor.”

  She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I don’t understand guys like that. I mean, what about the word ‘no’—and the obvious repellent body language—did he not understand?”

  “Jesus, he works fast. You already had to tell him no? He had only been there for like four minutes. What did he do, just walk up to you and ask you to have sex with him?”

  “Pretty much.” She scratched her forehead and dropped her hands to her sides. “Thanks for your help.” She turned away slowly and walked toward the front door.

  “Wait, Lauren!” I jogged to her. “Are you okay? I mean, really?”

  “I’m fine,” she laughed. “It’s not like he tried to have sex with me under the table or anything. Although that probably would’ve been next.”

  A glance back at the table in the bar told me they were all awaiting our return. But I was in no hurry to get back. In fact, the thought made me dry heave a bit. “Where are you going?” I asked urgently. “I mean, may I walk with you a while?”

  “Sure. I’m going to the pier. I wanted to do a little sightseeing while I was in the States.”

  “The States?” I asked, following her out the door. “Where are you from?”

  “Well, I’m originally from Winnipeg, but my family vacationed in British Columbia when I was a kid, and I’ve always wanted to return. I just graduated from Trinity Western in Vancouver.” Fighting off a shiver, she wrapped herself in her tiny arms, lost in a hazy smile. In her heavy daze, I saw the mountains and ocean of Vancouver as she daydreamed of them.

  “I’ve never been there. I applied for a job here in Seattle, but I haven’t heard back yet. I’m not holding my breath, either. But Vancouver is within driving distance. If I get the job, maybe we could meet up sometime?”

  She nodded, giving me a small smile and keeping her eyes down on the path beneath our feet.

  We walked through the park, and the night closed in on us. The grass, bright yellow and green in the daylight, had faded to a deep forest green, and the blue-black water shimmered in the cool night air.

  “What kind of job?” she asked, continuing the conversation we had minutes ago.

  “For a large copywriting firm. It’s not the end goal, but it would be a foot in the right door and open up other opportunities.”

  We fell into an easy silence, casually meandering over the walkway. The park was empty and quiet, a stark contrast to the bar inside. The first signs of stars flickered, and the faint odor of fresh rain could be smelled in the distance.

  We crossed a small bridge to get to the shore, and several wooden piers lined the docking area. Each dock had a railing, and I gathered that the area was mostly for tourists. Riverboats, yachts, jet boats, and fishing boats surrounded us.

  A large Ferris wheel lit up across the bay, and we watched as sightseers filed off and on the attraction.

  She stopped, leaning against the railing at the end of the dock. “What’s the end goal?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said that the end goal wasn’t Seattle. What’s the end goal?”

  Staring up at the full moon partially covered by dark cloud
s, I contemplated my answer. After a chuckle, I said, “I guess I haven’t gotten that far yet. I want to write fiction, like horror, action, mystery, suspense… But I know that doesn’t pay the bills unless you’re a big name. I guess I don’t really care what I write, so long as I’m writing something.”

  She nodded and remained silent as we resumed a casual pace, and I kept my hands in my pockets while Lauren folded her arms loosely across her chest.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  I laughed when she shrugged her reply.

  “What about you?” I asked. “What do you plan to be when you grow up?”

  She took a deep breath and pushed it out. “I always thought I wanted to be a journalist, but I’m not too sure anymore. There’s a lot of politics involved. They say blogging is the next big thing, but whenever people hear something like that, they all jump on the bandwagon and it becomes too big of a thing. Then the trend quickly washes away. I don’t want to be a trend.”

  She shivered again, and without thinking I removed my coat and wrapped it around her. “So still undecided then?”

  She nuzzled her face against my jacket, taking a deep sigh. “I guess I’m a hopeless romantic. I’d love to write something that becomes a classic someday.”

  “I’ve always wondered how they did it. The Classics, I mean. Some of those stories are so real, they had to have been mirroring a situation that happened to them in real life. There’s no amount of research that someone can do to write something like that. They have to feel it.”

  She nodded and stared back into the water. “Agreed.” With what little light reflected off the water, Lauren’s eyes sparkled. She brushed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck, and her profile instantly put me at ease.

  She was stunning.

  “So have you met him yet?”

  “Who?” she asked, glancing back at me.

  “The fact that you have to ask tells me you haven’t.” I laughed. “I guess you’re going to have to meet your Prince Charming, princess. Then you’ll have your classic romance to write about.”