Playing the Player

by Lisa Brown Roberts

He whipped his head toward me, eyes wide, then turned back to the road. It was amusing to watch him blush, for once.

  “They said that?” His hands clenched the steering wheel. “Crap,” he muttered, glancing at me quickly, then focusing back on the road.

  “Your mom did. She said the last girl was someone named, um…Kristen? Kristy?”

  His blush deepened and I smiled to myself. It was sort of fun making him squirm.

  “So, uh,” he practically stammered, “I guess they don’t turn off their prying eyes at home.” He shrugged an apology, his smile hesitant. “Sorry. Next time I’ll make sure they’re at one of their lame cooking classes or concerts or something.”

  Next time? My heart jackhammered. There couldn’t be a next time, not with the weirdness between his mom and me.

  But what if he wanted there to be a next time?

  I tried to banish my worries. “I hope this place is casual. Maybe I should have gone home to shower and change, too.”

  He glanced at me, taking me in from my toes to the top of my head. “You look…you always look…” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry.”

  I shivered under his gaze. Maybe it was the air conditioning blowing on me full blast.

  In the restaurant’s lobby, we stood close together as we waited for a table. Shimmering, wispy fabric draped in undulating waves from the ceiling. The soft light from candlelit tables illuminated happy people leaning toward each other, laughing and talking, giving off that vibe of blissed out coupleness that made a single person feel pathetic. I stared at my purple toenails and shivered again.

  Slade draped an arm around my shoulders. “Cold?”

  Heat from his touch flooded every nerve ending in my body. I swallowed nervously, meeting his hot gaze, which drifted down to my lips, then back to my eyes.

  “A little,” I said. “I’ll be fine. Maybe some tea…” My voice trailed away as a beautiful hostess rocking a green silk dress and pouty red lips gestured to us.

  “Table for two? Follow me.”

  Even though I wore flip-flops, I felt like I wobbled on five-inch heels. Gratefully, I sank into my chair and focused on the menu placed into my hands.

  Slade settled himself across from me. “Green tea, please,” he told the waitress. She nodded and disappeared.

  I glanced at the prices. Not like I couldn’t afford it, what with the laundered secret money and all. I squeezed my eyes shut. Damn damn damn.

  “Trina? You all right?”

  My eyes flew open to find Slade watching me intently.

  Why did his mom think he needed mentoring? So maybe he wasn’t ever going to be organized like me, but he had all these other amazing qualities, like calming down freaking out kids, and reassuring freaking out nannies.

  I clenched my hands. I could not fall for someone whose mom was paying me. As soon as this dinner was over, I was not spending an extra non-work-related minute with him.

  “Yeah, just, you know, tired. From moving all that stuff.” Which was stupid, since he and Alex had moved all the heavy items. I sipped some tea, letting the grassy flavor fill my mouth. I hoped it had magical conversational inducing properties. Otherwise, we were doomed to a night of staring at the ceiling and grunting over our food.

  “You should order,” I said, pointing to his menu.

  He frowned. “You in a hurry, BB?”

  I swallowed and shook my head. “No. I just thought…you know, all that heavy lifting. Makes a person hungry.” A shiver racked my body, raising goose bumps on my arms. Why were restaurants always so cold?

  The corner of his mouth lifted as he refilled my tea cup. “This should warm you up.” He slid the cup across the red tablecloth toward me. I wrapped my hands around the jade green ceramic, grateful for the burn that grounded me back in reality.

  “Thanks.”

  He gestured to his menu, still on the table. “The food here is great. What sounds good to you?” He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a lazy grin. He seemed more relaxed now that we’d escaped his house. At least one of us was.

  I sipped more tea. “Maybe just soup. I’m not very hungry.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not one of those girls who’s always dieting. I’ve shared enough lunches with you and the kids to know that.”

  I laughed, feeling a little bit of tension ease away. “True. It’s just, um—”

  “I’m paying for dinner, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “What? No way. That wasn’t the deal.”

  His lips quirked into their customary smirk. “I’m changing the deal. The muscle man’s prerogative. You got to use my body, I get to buy dinner.”

  My pulse raced. Was he turning this into an actual date? “But I wanted to thank you.”

  His smile faded. “You did thank me. So did Sharon. I wasn’t expecting any sort of payment, BB. You may be a pro at saving the world, but I can help, too.”

  I took a breath to calm myself. I didn’t want to argue with him. Suddenly I was ravenous. Okay, I was officially a basket case. I picked up my menu. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Do you like spicy?”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded as if I’d passed some secret test. “Red curry. Extra hot. And we’ll get some mee krob to balance it out. We’re sharing, family style. Cool with you?”

  We are so not family, I wanted to say. Warmth coursed through me, and I reached for my water glass.

  After the waitress took our order, we sat in silence. He didn’t seem bothered; he seemed content to sit there, watching the other patrons, sipping his tea.

  “So your parents…” I said. “They seem really…interested in what you’re doing.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. Curse of the only child.” He nodded at me. “You know how it is.” As soon as he said the words, his face paled. “Oh God, Trina. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…” He closed his eyes, looking like he was in physical pain.

  My stomach clenched as a wave of nausea snaked through me. “It’s okay.”

  He opened his eyes and took a breath. “No, it’s not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m such an idiot.” His fingers drummed nervously on the table.

  “Look, I just told you about Brian yesterday. And it’s not like you and I are…”

  His hand stopped drumming the table. “Are what?”

  “Um, you know. Friends. Or whatever.”

  His whole body seemed to stiffen. “You don’t think we’re friends?”

  Crap. I was going to need a very tall ladder to get out of the hole I’d just dug for myself. “I guess…” I shrugged, unable to look him in the eye.

  Why had I offered to take him to dinner? Even Gillian would’ve had more poise than me right now.

  He took a sip of tea and pushed his hair behind his ears. “I think we are. Friends.” His eyes latched on mine. “We’re definitely more than just…coworkers.”

  I reached for my glass of water because I needed to do something with my mouth, since I was incapable of forming words.

  His phone buzzed on the table, and he picked it up. He smiled at the screen then glanced at me. “You want to swing by Josh’s party after dinner? His parents are out of town. It should be crazy.”

  I swallowed. “No thanks.” I wasn’t even sure which Josh we were talking about. There were over three thousand students at our school; Slade probably knew all of them. I knew maybe fifty.

  “Do you ever go to parties, BB? Ever cut loose?” I knew he was teasing me, but it pissed me off.

  “You’d know, wouldn’t you? Have you ever missed a party?”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Touchy topic, eh?” He shrugged. “It’s not like I live at parties. I’ve been known to stay home once in a while.”

  “Those must’ve been the nights I was out—the nights you stayed home.” I shot him a taunting smile and he shifted in his chair, looking almost embarrassed.

  “Too bad,” I said, recklessly deciding to see if there wa
s any truth to Desi’s crazy theory. I leaned toward him and whispered in a breathy voice. “You missed my table top dance. Somebody ended up with my bra.”

  I heard a snap, and he glanced into his lap, startled. He set a broken chopstick on the table as a blush crept up his neck. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

  Had I rattled the notorious playboy? Me, who didn’t even know how to flirt? The thought was thrilling and a little bit terrifying. Our waitress arrived, to my relief, placing steaming plates of food between us.

  “Awesome.” Slade rubbed his hands. He filled my plate and slid it toward me. “Okay, risk taker, let’s see if I can give you something too hot to handle.” The suggestive tone of his voice made my toes curl.

  I was clearly the amateur flirt, but the light dancing in his eyes made me feel surprisingly playful. “You underestimate me,” I told him, and then I took a bite. The flavors exploded on my tongue. It was spicy, but not overwhelming. “I’m disappointed, Edmunds.” I looked him right in the eye. “I was expecting something much hotter from you.”

  He held my gaze. “Oh, I’m sure I can find something hot enough to rattle you, BB.”

  I flushed under his heated stare. Why did I even try teasing him? He was a pro, and I was still using training wheels. I took a bite of the mee krob, the crispy noodles with their sweet sauce cooling my tongue. I wished I had something to cool down the rest of me.

  “So what do you think Max will be doing twenty years from now?” Slade asked, scooping a second pile of rice onto his plate.

  His question surprised me, but I was relieved he’d toned down the spicy talk, since I was out of ammo. I leaned back in my chair. “I have no idea. Something serious. Crime scene specialist?”

  Slade laughed. “Too gross for him. I’m picturing him as a professor. The genius kind, who spends all his time holed up in his office researching wormholes or something.”

  “How about Gilly?” I took another bite of curry, welcoming the heat on my tongue.

  “Easy.” He paused to swallow a sip of water. “Teen actress. In and out of jail. Crazy talented, but a total train wreck.”

  I shook my head, laughing. “Maybe she’ll find a Hollywood agent who can keep her out of trouble.”

  His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Gilly not in trouble? No way.”

  “I know!” I pointed my fork at him, excited by my vision. “Max will be the super serious boyfriend. He’ll be DiMaggio to her Marilyn Monroe.”

  Slade blinked. “Her what to her who?”

  I shook my head. “I thought you liked movies. You do know who Marilyn Monroe was, right?”

  “Not a total moron, BB.” He tapped the side of his head. “Room in here for a few pop culture facts next to the sports stats.”

  That made me laugh out loud, and his answering laugh warmed me more than the food or the tea.

  “Okay. So, Marilyn was like a lost girl, you know? She was way more talented than people gave her credit for. Not just another beautiful blonde. Actually, she was a brunette once upon a time.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know why guys think only blondes are hot.”

  His eyes flicked to my hair, then he gave me a lazy grin. “Agreed. Why limit the options?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, you know Joe DiMaggio? Baseball legend?”

  Slade tapped the side of his head again. “Yankees. Got it.”

  “So he loved her desperately. He wanted to take care of her, when everyone else just wanted to use her.”

  Slade lifted the teapot, then paused mid-pour. “And then?”

  I sighed. “He was insanely jealous. You know that famous picture with her dress blowing up around her legs?”

  Slade nodded, his eyes never moving from my face even as he refilled his tea cup.

  I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed about my rambling. “He sort of flipped out about that. He pushed her around after the photo shoot, so she left him.”

  Slade set down the teapot. “Wow. Intense.” He sipped some tea. “So that’s Max and Gilly’s future, huh? That’s bleak, BB, even for you.”

  I was hardly making this a romantic dinner by telling depressing stories. “Yeah, I guess it is.” I’d always been weirdly fascinated by old Hollywood actresses. The more tragic the story, the better. But I was killing the mood, which was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Maybe Gilly will be the genius professor, and Max will rock the X Games.”

  Slade pushed his empty plate away and grinned. “Man, I’d love to see that.”

  “Me, too. That’d be hilarious. We could wear ‘Team Max’ shirts and cheer him on.”

  Slade’s eyes hooked on mine. “They’d interview us for one of those human interest segments. You’d be the nanny who helped him believe in himself. He’d have his own brand of lavender oil that all the girls would buy.”

  We laughed together, and for a few moments it felt like we were like the other couples in the restaurant, on our own tiny island of happiness and private connection.

  Slade’s phone buzzed again while the waitress cleared away the plates. He glanced at it, frowning.

  “So, you probably want to get to that party, right?” I tried to hide my disappointment. “You can just drop me off and—”

  “No.”

  We stared at each other across the table.

  “No?” I sounded like a brainless echo.

  He shrugged. “Not in a party mood. How about a walk?”

  “A…walk? In the dark?”

  He grinned at me. “You’ve heard of moonlit strolls, right? I bet Marilyn and Joe did it all the time, up in the Hollywood Hills.”

  My heart ricocheted in my chest. Was he playing me? Maybe I’d call his bluff. I answered his shrug with my own. “Okay, as long as I don’t have to climb any trees in the dark.”

  He chuckled as he reached for the bill that I hadn’t even noticed, peeking out of its fake leather folder. “We can stay on the ground tonight.”

  I put a hand out for the check. “If you won’t let me treat, let’s split it, okay?”

  He glanced at the receipt, then up at me. “Why can’t you just let me buy?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we’re both stubborn.”

  I nodded. “I think we’ve established that.”

  His easy grin returned. “Okay, we’ll split it tonight. But next time it’s on me.”

  Next time? That was twice tonight he’d said that, but I shrugged like it was no biggie. “Deal,” I said lightly, even though my heart rate ratcheted up beyond what could possibly be safe for a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Slade

  June 20, Thursday

  I’d never done the moonlit stroll thing before. Alex probably had, with a gourmet picnic basket and a blanket. I tried not to think about other after-dark activities as Trina and I navigated the gravel canal path. I especially tried not to think about how she’d looked at me when she’d joked about doing a tabletop dance.

  I dodged a pile of dog crap, nearly hidden in the darkness. “So what did Sharon mean today, when she asked about picture books and you said you’d check with the library?”

  Trina’s feet scuffed next to mine, kicking pebbles along the path. “Sharon likes the kids to take a book with them when they move out of the shelter, and we keep a supply on hand for nightly reading. So I check with the library for old books they’re planning to sell at their annual book sales. Sometimes I check thrift stores, too.”

  I thought of the box of old picture books in our basement. “I might be able to donate some. Probably a few classics in there. Dr. Seuss. Thomas the Train.”

  “No Disney princess books?”

  I heard the teasing smile in her voice. “Nope,” I said. “But I’m keeping the fairy tales. I have a thing for fairies. Pixies in particular.”

  “That’s original,” she picked up the pace a little. “Maybe you could give Disney some tips.
They’re going to run out of princess ideas one of these days.”

  I matched her pace. “All those princesses look alike. Boring. They should make movies about ninja fairies.”

  “Fierce Firestorm,” she said. “The fighting anime fairies. You should check it out.”

  “Does Gilly know about this? Sounds like her kind of show.” I edged closer to her on the path, catching a whiff of lavender on the breeze.

  She laughed softly next to me. “I think Gilly was their inspiration.”

  We walked in silence, our feet kicking up clouds of dust barely visible in the light of the new moon. I considered the possible outcomes of kissing her.

  One: Disgusted slap to the face.

  Two: Willing compliance. No slapping. Just open lips and me finally finding out if she tasted as incredible as I imagined, and then—

  “—so does that sound okay? Or do you think they’ll be bored?”

  Uh oh. What had she been talking about? She’d stopped walking, waiting for an answer.

  “Uh…I’m not…sure?” I offered lamely.

  Light spilled from the houses that backed the canal trail, and cast a dim glow over her face.

  “You’re probably right.” She sighed. “My ideas aren’t very exciting. You’re better at planning stuff the kids like.”

  Kids? She must’ve been talking about a nannying activity. “No, I’m not,” I said quickly. “I was just…distracted. It’s a great idea. Really.” Whatever the hell her idea was, I was committed now.

  Her face lit up with a smile that made my insides do a weird dance.

  “You think so?” She sounded hopeful.

  I couldn’t risk losing her smile by admitting I had no idea what she’d said. “Yeah, absolutely.”

  “We can take light rail—I think the kids would like that. Can you pick me up at eight? Then we’ll get the kids.”

  Light rail? At some point I was going to have to confess my ignorance. Or maybe not. I could probably play it off the same way I managed to pass classes where I barely paid attention.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the small, glowing screen. “Oh, wow. It’s later than I realized. I should get going. My mom will be home soon.”