Page 24 of The Player Penalty
“Are you coming to the race this weekend? It’s like before, all over again.” Dad checks the calendar on his phone. “The big flight is at three, and there’s plenty of room available.”
Julian will be on that flight. Dad is half right; he’s only considering the times we played cribbage or a board game in the trailer. I want to hang out with Julian or maybe even go to one of the parties he’s told me about.
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ve been hearing more about your great work,” he says carefully. Dad’s dream of me working withRMSisn’t gone yet.
“Julian is great to work for,” I say with the same care. The positive feedback is coming directly from Julian, which is pretty funny. I spend my time at school, work, or goofing off with him. He praises me to everyone who will listen, knowing it gets back to my dad. He looks like a great employer doing Pete Webb a solid favor while I avoid a job I don’t want.
My favorite part is that it puts Dad in a bind. He doesn’t like Julian Murphy, which I don’t get, but he also believes working for him is good for me. As long as there’s no hint of impropriety, he won’t act.
“It’s not him, Lily, it’s all you. Boone’s offer is still there, remember? If you decide to stay on, there’s a job waiting for you.”
“I appreciate it, Dad, but I want to be a teacher. It’s fun, you know? I’m taking a class on child psychology this semester, and it’s fascinating. Plus, another one about childhood development.”
“Your future classroom is lucky to have you.” Dad pats my hand and returns to eating.
He’s worried I’ll fail and doesn’t want to say it outright. I suppose it’s a comfort to know I can take a job atRMSone day, but it’s not what I want. Besides, my friendship with Julian isn’t enough reason to stay there forever. One day, he’ll find a woman worth more than one night and then forget about me. Planning a career around our friendship is a horrible idea.
“Don’t forget your medicine,” he says while we’re cleaning the kitchen.
“Taking it now. Thanks for the reminder.”
∞∞∞
My morning medication is wearing off, and the house is quiet—a dangerous combination. My eyes wander from the computer screen to a stack of books to read and then to a new skein of yarn.I started a scarf before putting the project down and forgetting about it.
I rub my temples and tell myself to focus.
Dr. Lambert asked me about boyfriends today.
Focus.
Boyfriend.
Focus.
It doesn’t work like that.
My phone rings, and I jump. “Julian. It’s late.” I glance at my computer monitor. “It’s eight at night.”
“That’s not late. Eight is barely even nighttime. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I snap the laptop shut. If there was a possibility of work, it’s gone now. “You want to game?”
“I have a better idea. Check this out.”
“Check what out?” I ask, and then I hear the faint tink-tink on my bedroom window. “Are you trying to rob me?” I hiss into the phone.
“I’m here to deliver you an evening of fun. Open the damn window. Your neighbors are going to call the cops on me soon. Luckily, I’m wearing a sign that explains that I’m not an actual burglar.”
“You’re a fake one,” I say, and pull up my blinds to find Julian, clad in one of his perfectly fitting white tshirts, waving at me. “It’s good my dad is already in bed.”
Julian whistles into the phone. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard in my life. Now, open this,” he says and hangs up.
His sudden appearance might be the most rebellious act of my life, and I’m a grown woman. How sad is that?
“You’re lucky there isn’t an alarm system,” I say as he slides through my window.
