Page 12 of Play Hard

Chapter 4

Robert triedto keep his composure as he read the latest email from his primary funder. It wouldn’t do to freak out while riding the Number 60 bus.

To be honest, the results of the latest report are highly concerning. I think we should consider scheduling a meeting early next week to review the project’s goals and objectives. My department will want a report before the end of the month so we can make appropriations decisions going forwards.

Catching sight of his bus stop, Robert composed a hasty reply:

Eager to hear your thoughts. I’m available all day Monday.

He hit send just as the bus creaked to a halt. Then he tucked his phone away and disembarked, as always checking his surroundings before heading down Liam’s street. Even in broad daylight, a bit of situational awareness never went amiss.

The scent of fresh-baked rolls wafted out of the corner café—which, despite its dilapidated-looking state, sold the best panini in the city—and on a strip of grass across the busy street, a homeless woman was screaming at a pair of pigeons in sign language.

Robert found it hard to walk among the people of Glasgow these days without seeing them as test subjects, without calculating values for each of their choices:

Biking to work, +10 Lifespan Points. Och, fish supper with extra chips, -15 LP.

Maybe he needed to be a detached observer in order to help them, the way A&E doctors had to see patients as “Knife Wound in Room 3” and “Cardiac Arrest in Room 7.” Still, it felt wrong.

At least there was one Glaswegian he couldn’t help but see as a fully fleshed human being.

“Prepare yourself, lad!” Liam bowed as he beckoned Robert to enter his flat. “Prepare to be awed by art.”

“That sounds promising.” Robert stepped inside and barely caught his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss before Liam spun away and bounced into the living room.

“I know you telt me not to use words,” Liam said, “but I’m a verbal man, so I made a pictograph.” He lifted the poster board from the coffee table and held it in front of his chest. “What does it say I want most from you?”

Robert eyed the board as he removed his coat. On the left, Liam had pasted a hockey stick lying on its side, with matching footballs above and below it. Round the whole arrangement was a red circle with a line through it. On the right, a row of soldiers were arranged, all facing front, standing rigid and gazing into the near distance.

“So you want me to…not play two sports at once, but instead join the army?”

“You’re being pure literal. Think symbolically.” Liam tapped the stick and balls. “What symbol does that look like, Mister Maths Degree?”

Robert squinted at the arrangement. “A division sign?”

“Well done, you.”

“Cool.” This was even more fun than he’d thought it would be. “So you want me to divide a—”

“Oi!” Liam rapped the red circle.

“Right, you want me not to divide something. Got it.” He stared at the soldiers, who were dressed in the pale-brown battle fatigues used in desert operations. “Is this to do with my views on troops deployment in the Middle East?”

“What? No. Wait, have you even got views on troops deployment?”

“Well…just the basic views.”

Liam shook his head. “As usual, you’re overthinking things. Try again.”

“All right, gonnae be patient with me. I’m not a mind reader.” Robert rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s the uniforms. Maybe you want me to…not divide…or not separate…” He blurted what he knew was the wrong answer. “You want me to dress better by matching my trousers to my shirts.”

“Rab, you’re a smarter dresser than I am. How would I have the brass neck to criticize your clothes?”

Robert sighed. “Gie’s another hint.”

Liam patted the right side of the poster. “What are these soldiers doing?”

“Going to war?”

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