Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Yeah, you wanted me to set up a casual meeting for your daughter to—”
“I forgot all about that.” He waved dismissively. “But now you’ve got me thinking. Those fairs are open to the public. I’m sure they need outside help…and perhaps funding. I wonder if extra credit is an option.”
“I’d have her check with him directly.”
“Hmm. Right. Thanks for helping out here. This is important, Ezra. We don’t want that grade to affect her transfer to USC.”
We? Huh?
“Sir, I can’t do anything to help her transfer or—”
“But you already have. You’ve given me an idea that might be worth its weight in gold,” Rossman enthused.
“I did?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be compensated. We need to discuss a contract for you. I’ll get Jules on that ASAP. Keep up the good work.” He tapped my desk, then sauntered toward his corner office.
O-kay…I didn’t understand any of that, but my phone buzzed before I could process how I’d magically solved the transfer issue.
“Ryan. What’s up?”
“Hey, little bro, how are ya?”
“Fine. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s great,” he assured me, launching into a quick report of my sister-in-law’s thriving business venture, his five-year-old daughter’s dance classes, and his middle son’s crazy baseball schedule. “Yesterday, I was chauffeuring kids around after work and sat on a bleacher for three hours watching a bunch of pipsqueaks play ball. I don’t know how Dad did it. At least Annie works from home and can help out too.”
“Mom didn’t have that luxury,” I said, unthinking. “Hey, sorry. I’m at work. Can I call you later?”
“Sure. It’s nothing crazy. I just wanted to tell you Gus has a boyfriend.”
“Oh?”
Ryan chuckled softly. “Yeah, and get this…they went to the movies last week—on a date.”
“That’s cool.”
“It is, but I feel like we should get to know this kid. I’m going to suggest having him over for dinner. What do you think?”
I was tempted to look around for the hidden camera. Was he punking me?
“Why are you asking me, Ry? I don’t have kids. I don’t know these things.”
“You’re queer.”
And just like that, I felt exposed all over again.
Out of habit, I scanned the open-style office on the off chance someone had overheard my loudmouthed brother, and was immediately irritated with myself…and Ryan by association.
Why did we have to talk about being bi or gay? Why was this a thing? Why was I making it into a thing? I had one big toe out of the closet, and I wasn’t sure how to move the rest of me or if it mattered.
“Right,” I said after an eon. “Dinner sounds good. Do something easy like spaghetti.”
“Always a winner. Hey, send me Dad’s recipe, will ya? I don’t think this is happening immediately, but I want it for posterity anyway. In fact, copy a few recipes for me. I loved that chocolate cake recipe. And everyone loved his orzo, except for the capers. Dad used to scrape those off our plates, remember that?”
I tilted the phone away from my ear and sighed. Of course, I fucking remembered.
“Yeah. I have to go, Ry. I’ll send it to you later.”
I signed off and shoved my cell into my pocket before turning to stare at the blur of words on my monitor.
This was exactly the kind of mental field trip I’d hoped to avoid. I loved my brother, but I didn’t love his tendency to rewrite history. No, he hadn’t said anything outrageous or asked for the impossible. The hint of some fucking family fairy tale was enough to make my skin crawl. I hated lies and half-truths, and lately, I felt like I was drowning in them.
Note to self: stop answering the phone and talking to people.
When I got home later that night, I fist-bumped Cole and Tommy, then winked at Holden and told him my neck was bugging me. Cole and Tommy shot matching WTF glances at me. Holden scowled.
Good. At least balance was on its way to being restored on one front, I mused.
On to the next chore.
I dumped my computer bag on my desk and stared at my dresser as though it contained a live grenade. It might as well have. I had a shit-ton of studying to do and between Holden in close proximity and my brother’s request, my concentration was in danger of being compromised before I began. I obviously couldn’t do anything about Holden, but I could send Ryan what he asked for and hope like hell he’d quit trying to get chummy with me about queer stuff. Or Dad.
I pushed a pile of discarded clothes aside, kneeled on the floor, and pulled the bottom drawer open.
Nothing crazy happened. The room didn’t light up, angels didn’t sing, and my dad’s ghost didn’t magically appear. It was just a drawer filled with concert tees I wouldn’t wear again but wasn’t ready to part with, a couple of old Loyola sweatshirts, and…a battered blue binder.