Page 47 of The Score

“Sorry. What?”

“I was asking about your play. Rehearsals started this week, didn’t they? How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” I answer in an absent tone. I can’t tell if Dean is typing something else. I hope not. “The guy who’s playing my dead husband is fun to work with. How’s yours going?”

“Shitty.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, hon.” I know Meg isn’t happy with the playwright she’d been paired with, and I don’t blame her, because he happens to be the most pompous asshole in the drama department.Everything he writes is pretentious and brimming with over-the-top angst. He thinks he’s the reincarnation of Arthur Miller.

“‘Slade’ likes to rewrite entire scenes during rehearsal.” She puts quotation marks around his name, which makes Fitzy chuckle.

“I don’t think you know how to use air quotes,” he informs her.

“No, I do. ‘Slade’ isn’t his real name. It’s actually Joshua Sandeski.” She snorts derisively. “This ass is so full of himself I’m surprised he doesn’t poop out little brown replicas of his smug face.”

The guys hoot at the disgusting image she’s painted.

“First day of classes, we all had to sit around in a circle and introduce ourselves to our fellow actors.” She glances at me. “Remember that?”

“Oh, I remember,” I say dryly.

“Anyway,” she tells Fitzy, “this jerk stands up and says, ‘I’m Joshua Sandeski, but I go by Slade. Refer to me as anything else and I will not respond.’ And he wasn’t kidding. Any time the teacher slipped up and called him Sandeski, he would flat-out ignore her.”

“That’s the douchiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dean remarks.

Shit, his arm is moving again.

“I think it’s ballsy,” Hollis disagrees. “You know what? Fuck it. I’m pulling a Slade and giving myself a solo name. From now on, you guys can only refer to me as Thunder.”

I discreetly peek at the latest message, and my breath hitches.

Him: My dick is so hard right now. I’m dying to be inside you.

I don’t indulge him this time. If I don’t respond, he’ll eventually stop, right?

Wrong.

The messages keep popping up, each one filthier than the last.

Gonna take it slow next time. Savor every single second.

So fucking slow, baby. Just slide in and out of your tight pussy…

Until you’re begging for more.

I grab my glass and choke down some water. I’m aware of Dean’s soft chuckle, audible even with the music blasting in the bar.

I won’t give you what you want, tho. I’ll keep feeding you my cock, inch by inch.

And then I’ll take it away again.

Every time you beg me to pound into you, I’ll go even slower.

Gonna torment that sweet pussy all night, baby.

All. Fucking. Night.

I shoot to my feet like someone lit a fire under my ass. “I need to use the ladies’ room,” I blurt out.

---