Page 8 of The Charlie Method

Colson is quick to answer. “Pass,” he says, blanching. “I’d rather be poor.”

“You answered that too fast,” Trager chides him. “I have follow-up questions.”

“There aren’t enough follow-up questions on the planet that can convince me to watch my folks fuck.”

“Lindley,” Trager calls to Shane. “Is it in a dark room so they’re boning in the shadows?”

“Brightly lit room,” Shane calls back.

“Do they come?”

“Both of them. Her multiple times.”

“Do they make noise when they come?”

“They’re very loud.”

After a long moment of consideration, Trager sighs. “I’d do it. I can’t turn down free money.”

Grinning, Shane glances at me. “Beck?”

I face the spray to rinse the soap off my bruised, aching body. “Nah,” I finally answer. “I feel like I’m capable of earning twelve grand a year without having to hear my parents loudly orgasm. I’ll invest in myself.”

Ryder snickers.

As Trager throws out his own thought experiment, I shut off the faucet and grab my towel from the hook, wrapping it around my waist. I head back to the locker room with Shane and Ryder on my heels. At the locker beside mine, I find Will Larsen still in full uniform, frowning at his phone.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

Even without the frown, I would know something’s bothering him. Larsen and I are just that attuned to each other. That’s what happens when you share enough women in bed. Which sounds sleazier than it is. We worship women. That’s why they keep coming back.

Will grumbles under his breath. “Fine. My dad being his usual jackass self.”

He tosses me the phone. I can’t help but laugh when I read the email on the screen.

From: Alessia Mason-Bybee

To: Will Larsen

Subject: Meeting Request

Hi Will,

Your father would like to schedule a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. Please let me know your availability this week.

Best,

Alessia

“He gets his assistant to schedule visits?” I marvel.

“Of course.” Will’s voice is sarcastic. “I’m just another business meeting.”

“Bro, that’s intense,” Shane says, offering a sympathetic look.

Shrugging, Will sets his phone on the top shelf of his stall and starts undressing, tossing his jersey on the bench. “Whatever. It’s always been like this. Can’t even remember the last time we talked without a formal agenda. Alessia emails that too beforehand.”

Ryder grunts out a laugh. “Shit. I mean, as someone who doesn’t have parents, I can’t exactly attest to this, but I don’t think that’s how parent-child relationships are supposed to work.”

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