Page 21 of Play Me
“Fancy.”
“Yeah, I wish.” My body tenses as I acquiesce to my new reality. I might as well think about it now and try to get used to it. After all, there doesn’t seem to be a way out of it. Not easily, anyway. “She’s essentially a fucking babysitter.”
The line grows quiet, and I’m sure Hartley’s trying to figure out what to say. I save him the trouble.
“She’s fucking miserable,” I say, my jaw pulsing as Astrid’s little smirk shoves its way through my mind. “She’s a know-it-all with delusions of grandeur. I don’t know if everyone in her life rolls over for her or what, but she’s obviously not used to not getting her way.”
Hartley hums. “I bet that goes over really well with you, doesn’t it?”
“If you’re imagining us squared up, you’re spot on.”
“What’s her problem?”
“Fuck if I know.” I shrug helplessly. “She has a superiority complex that I can’t get around. Her mind is made up about me—and her conclusions aren’t great.”No thanks to Renn, it seems. “She’s determined to lord over me for the next couple of months, so she doesn’t lose her Employee of the Month title or whatever the hell is going on. And I’m not about to back down and lose the bonus I got for agreeing to this mess.”
My mouth hardens as her admission rattles through my head.“I was tasked with keeping you in line.”
That’s the line I can’t forget—the one I can’t let go.
“Got any advice for me?” I ask, reading an alert that pops across the screen.
Reminder: Payment due in 3 days
I clear my throat and dismiss the message. By the time I tune back in to Hartley’s voice, his tone has changed.
“Hey, Gray, I’m sorry but I gotta go. I need to check this ewe. Bobby already took off, so it’s just me here.”
“Yeah, go. Don’t let me keep you.”
“Let me know if you can grab some free time. I’d love to see you.”
I run a hand down my face. “Yeah. For sure. Let me get my feet on the ground and I’ll be there.”
“Good deal. Talk to you later.”
“See ya.”
“Bye, Gray.”
The call ends abruptly as he rushes off to tend to his animals, and I’m left standing in my empty apartment.
There’s a hollowness in the middle of my chest that has nothing to do with hunger pains. I hate acknowledging its presence, not because of the sensation.Because of what it represents.
My life is lonely but admitting that—even to myself—makes me feel like a little bitch. How can I possibly complain about anything when I’m doing exactly what I want? I’m alive and healthy. I’m getting paid very well to play a fucking game for a living. Things could be so much worse.
Maybe I’ll never quite have it all. But maybe I don’t deserve it, either.
I force a swallow and place a hand on my rumbling stomach. Before I can decide whether to grab a shower or order a sandwich to be delivered, my phone buzzes again. I glance down, expecting to see a picture of a baby animal in Hartley’s barn. Instead, I’m accosted by a series of texts hitting the screen in rapid succession.
Unknown: An email has been sent to the address on file with a list of people, phone numbers, addresses, and other pertinent information you need going forward. Please review ASAP.
Unknown: We’ll go over this week’s schedule in full tomorrow. Here’s a breakdown for your convenience.
Unknown: Monday:
Unknown: 10:00 a.m.: meet me at the training facility for a tour and introductions
Unknown: 11:00 a.m.: appointment with strength coaches
