Page 2 of The Player Penalty
I pull my hair and take out a few strands by mistake.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Not yet.” I pull a hairband off my left wrist and put half my hair in a loose braid before doing the same on the other side. The style makes me look young, but at least it stops the hair-pulling.
Julian hands me the controller back. “You look nice. That looks cute on you.”
“Thanks.” Cute is a word reserved for ten-year-olds. It’s a faint praise compliment. I drop into one of the office chairs in front of his television set. I cross my legs and then cross them again. “Shall we start?”
My favorite tennis skirt was a great idea this morning, and now I feel exposed.
“You’re uncomfortable,” Julian says, and I meet his eyes. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” He glances at the floor before visibly steeling himself. “This is in the wrong order. I owe you an apology for last year.”
“That was a year ago.” Apologies are always tricky because the other person never means them, and then I’m obligated to accept it. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“Yeah, I think we do. I said something rude, and you heard me. Weird can be a compliment when you say it to a friend, but not to a stranger. You heard me, and I’m sorry. If it helps, I’m not usually such a big ass.”
“You didn’t call me weird.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Your memory is flawed.” Either that or mine is incredible. We were introduced, and I studied him while trying not to be noticed. I thought his aquiline nose perfectly matched his square jaw. His brow arched at random times when he talked. “You spoke to my father and then told your boss I wasn’t what you expected.”
The lightbulb over his head clicks on and then dials itself up to the maximum setting. “Oh, hell. After that, I said you weren’t a surprise at all.”
“You didn’t think I heard, but I did.” My initial reaction was to assume I looked different from my father, but that was wrong. Julian Murphy meant I looked like a freak. “It’s fine.”
I want to go home.
“I am sorry. That was an incredibly dickish thing to say, and if you give me a second chance, you’ll grow to like me. Everyone does around here.”
His boss doesn’t. My father has spent most of his career working for the Rivers family. He says Boone Rivers considers Julian unprofessional, lacking self-discipline, and a Lothario. He’s kept around because of his driving skills but would be replaced if another, better driver came along.
“Thank you for your apology. Shall we play?” It’s true that I rarely play video games, but I have played this one, and I want to beat him—badly and for the pettiest of reasons.
Three races and a long silence later, he pauses the game. “You’re unnaturally talented for someone who’s never played.”
“I learn quickly.”
“Well, that’s bullshit. You enjoyed beating me.” Julian uses his fingers to draw a smile between us. “That’s good because I deserved it, even if it was only a few rounds of Mario Kart. If we keep going, you’ll keep kicking my ass.”
“Yes, I will.”
“You also think I’m an insensitive jerk, and that’s deserved, but I’m asking for that second chance, anyway.” Julian extends his hand. I stare and do nothing. He probably has one of those electric shock buttons hidden in his palm. “We’re going to become friends, and you’ll see I’m nice. Please.”
It doesn’t matter if I want to be here because my father wants me here. That means I’m stuck with Julian Murphy and stuck in this job. I extend my hand. Julian grabs and shakes it with enough violence that my arm tingles.
“Does this mean we’re done?” I ask.
“You want to keep kicking my ass, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He laughs, but I didn’t mean it as a joke.
“How about I tell you the latest office gossip instead? Let’s start with the best one. You already met Sarah, but did you know she’s Boone Rivers’ younger sister?”
“That’s not gossip.”
