Page 10 of Power Play

Casey’s twin, Caleb, squeals when I pull up outside of his apartment building. I should be embarrassed that I have no other dating prospects than a man who bats for the other team, but Caleb is honestly one of the sweetest people I know. Plus, he’s aware of the Plan.

Step One: Go on a date with Gwen and Duke.

Step Two: Somehow lure Duke into private conversation, in which I propose that he give me an interview forThe Tribune.

Step Three: Gain recognition as a successful sports journalist.

Step Four: I have no Step Four. I deliberated about it in the shower this morning and, honestly, I’d be ecstatic just tointerviewthe guy. Even if he has been sucking on the ice in recent seasons, and even if I do think he should promptly retire.

I somehow convinced my boss to let the feature on Duke slide, as I told him that I had plans for something better. He didn’t ask me what those plans were. I’m half-terrified that I’m about to get the can.

“Get in, get in,” I tell Caleb, unlocking the passenger’s side door so he can jump in.

When he sees me, he gives a little howl of pleasure. “You look delectable,” he says enthusiastically. “That dress? Where did you get it?”

“Target.” I edge my car across two lanes, bypassing at least three angry drivers who honk their horns and visibly roll down their windows to shout obscenities at me. “In the sales section.”

“Really?” Caleb peers closer like he doesn’t believe me. “How much?”

“Eleven dollars. I’m on a budget.”

The Cambridge Tribunedoesn’t exactly pay well. In the past, I’ve picked up freelancing gigs on the side, using them to balance out my income into something a little more substantial. Lately, however, there just hasn’t been enough time. I think Josh is feeling the pressure of subscriptions dropping and local advertisers pulling out, and Casey and I have had to pick up extra hours creating ads with absolutely no graphic design background.

I would say that it’s been a fun experience, but that would be a bald-faced lie.

“Hmm,” Caleb murmurs. He runs a hand through his neatly trimmed brown hair. “It’s nice, though. If I were straight, I’d tap that.”

“If you were straight,” I say with a laugh, “you’d be tapping someone much better looking than me.” With a free hand, I tug at the hem of the dress, which has inched up my thighs. “Okay. Let’s go over this again. Gwen is who?”

“The evil witch of the west,” he deadpans. “Girl, we’ll be fine. Unless she actually starts melting in front of me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Actually, there iseverythingto worry about. What if Duke Harrison sees straight through me? What if he takes one look at me and turns the other way? What if Gwen attempts to slaughter me at the table, à laGame of Thrones’Red Wedding? These are all probable outcomes, and my brain has been stuck on repeat for two days now, overthinking every last one of them.

By the time we roll up to the restaurant, we’re right on time. My nerves turn my palms into shallow pools of sweat and I carelessly run them down the length of my new dress. I spare a quick glance downward. I suppose the red sheath numberispretty. In an understated, simple sort of way.

We give the host our name and then wait off to the side for the other half of our party. I turn to Caleb, panic lining my voice when I ask, “What if they don’t show?”

Caleb plucks my hand off his arm and gives it a quick squeeze. “We eat, drink champagne, and go home to our separate beds. It’ll be the best date we’ve both ever had.”

He may be kidding about himself, but his assumption is still relatively accurate on my end. I don’t recall the last time I had a proper date. If I can’t remember, then it has obviously been way too long.

Glancing down at my wristwatch, I check the time. They’re late. By a minute. Jenny would be climbing up a wall right now. I settle my nerves by imagining my future desk atThe Boston Globe. This will work. I just need a little faith, that’s all.

“Oh, my God, don’t you just look soprecious,Charlie!”

I’m struck by both the relief that we haven’t been stood up by the power couple, as well as a heavy dose of annoyance that Gwen has made me feel like a toddler trying on my mother’s clothes.

I twist around, forcing a strained smile to my face. My smile falters a little when I catch sight of Gwen. She is also wearing a red dress, though hers is at least two times more revealing. The front cuts down between her breasts and the hem cuts short just below her crotch. I can’t help but wonder if she’s cold. I’d be cold; my crotch would be cold. It’s thirty degrees outside and the weather forecast this morning called for flurries.

She’s either stupidly brave or asking for a case of strep throat.

Possibly both.

She holds out her hands, gathering me in for a hug like a long-lost friend. I’m not fooled in the slightest, and gingerly pull back from the witch’s claws. “It’s good to see you,” I say, looking from Gwen too Duke.

He stares back at me. His blue gaze is furious, and I busy myself with drawing Caleb forward and making introductions.

Stick to the plan.

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