Page 156 of Men in Shorts

Katie

Did you see what that douchebag said about us?

Liam tapped her link, which led to a thread on an amateur-football forum. The new striker for this weekend’s opponents had asked about the Warriors’ defensive capabilities.

Gerry Mitchell: From what I can tell, their back line is comprised of a dyke, a fatty, and a pair of mutually sodomising CBs.

Liam snorted at Mitchell’s description of him and Robert. He scanned a few of the responses, all of which praised the Warriors defense—especially Robert and Liam’s center-back pairing—though none called out Mitchell’s offensive language.

Jamie had already replied to Katie, Robert, and him:

Jamie

If Mitchell’s shots are as poor as his patter we’ve got no worries

Katie

Right? He doesn’t even know ‘comprised of’ should be ‘composed of’

At least he’d learned something today, Liam thought as he set his phone down. It buzzed immediately.

Katie

Also you’re not fat

Liam clenched his teeth. This would never end.

Jamie

Not for want of trying. My mouth was never empty over the holidays

Liam switched off his phone. He loved electronic communication as much as anyone, but now that he was trying to focus his thoughts on something important, the interruptions were driving him round the bend. If only?—

His breath caught in his throat.That’s it.He knew exactly what he most wanted from Robert.

Liam spread out the poster board to begin his very final draft.

Chapter4

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.

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