Playing the Player(9)

“Shh,” she whispered. “I’m dead.”

My stomach clenched. “Don’t joke about that, Gillian.” I stretched out my arm and tugged on a tiny sequined shoe. Spike licked my hand. “Come on. Max is waiting for you.”

She wriggled out from her hiding spot, and I grabbed shorts and a shirt from a messy pile on the floor. “Here.” I handed her the clothes. “Get dressed. Now.” I tried out a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was hard to stay mad at her. She was like a sprite put on earth to make people laugh.

My phone pinged with a text. No worries, mate.

Worries? Slade didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Gillian dropped the clothes I’d given her and rummaged in the pile, yanking out a one-piece swimsuit and tugging it on. “Ta da!” She twirled around. “I’m dressed. Let’s go see Max.”

I frowned. I hadn’t endured this clothing battle before. “Remember what your mom said. You have to wear clothes in public.”

She pointed to her princess swimsuit. “This is clothes.”

I sighed and sank onto her bed. “Not really.” I pointed to my clothes. “These are clothes.”

She climbed onto the bed, leaning against me, smelling like milk and Lucky Charms. “You could wear your swimsuit, too. We could be twins.”

Show up in my swimsuit to meet Slade? My whole body blushed at the thought.

“Gillian, we’re already late. The longer you argue with me, the less time you’ll have with Max.” I tickled her, and she fell back on her mattress, giggling. Spike jumped on the bed and licked her face, eliciting more giggles.

“Okay, okay!” She slid off the bed and tugged her clothes on over her swimsuit, then put her hands on her hips. “I’m only wearing these cuz the car is public.”

I stared at her. “You realize the museum is a public place, too, right?”

She frowned and kicked at the floor with her sequined shoe. “The whole museum?” She peeked at me from under her bangs.

“Yes. The whole museum.”

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. I followed, laughing to myself and sniffing my wrist.



We arrived at Max’s house at 9:33. Knots twisted in my stomach. I hated being late, even if it was only Slade and Max.

Max opened the front door, his serious eyes traveling from Gillian to me then back. He wore Spiderman underwear, nothing else.

“Yippee!” Gillian screamed, tearing off her clothes as she pushed past him into the house. “Naked day!”

“Gillian!” I yelled after her, but it was too late. She’d already shed her shirt and shorts and ran up the staircase in her swimsuit, Max close behind her.

Slade emerged from the kitchen, looking sleepy and tousled. The unexpected adrenaline rush I felt when I saw him surprised me. He glanced toward the kids charging up the staircase, shrugged, then grinned at me. Immune, I told myself. You are immune to his wily charms.

“Howdy, partner. Want some coffee?” He lifted the mug in his hand and tilted his head in a question. He desperately needed to cut his messy surfer boy hair. He was in his usual slacker mode, wearing a Chase Rice concert T-shirt and faded khaki shorts. Of course he was barefoot.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Coffee would be great.” I’d need all the energy I could muster to keep up with Gillian today. Not to mention, the whole pretending-to-be-partners-but-really-secretly mentoring-Slade charade.

I followed him into the kitchen, where a small TV blasted cartoons. Slade reached over and switched it off. He poured me a cup of coffee, then glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar? Milk?”

“Um, sugar,” I said, surprised he’d thought to ask. “I can do it. Where’s the bowl?” I stepped toward the counter, and he slid a sugar bowl toward me. Standing so close to him made me jittery, which was completely irrational. I dumped a spoonful into my mug and stirred, not looking at him.

What did I talk about with someone I had nothing in common with? Someone I was supposed to be secretly supervising? Someone who smelled like pine trees and sunshine?

Crap. What was wrong with me?

I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder and pulled out my binder, tossing it with a satisfying thunk onto the table. Slade muttered something under his breath.

“What?” I turned to look at him, and he widened his infamous eyes, looking innocent.

“Nothing.” He watched me over the rim of his mug.

I rubbed my hands together. “So, we have a lot to discuss. I’ve already mapped out this week for us. I think I’ve come up with a good balance of educational activities and character-building exercises.”

Slade sank into the chair across from me, pulled a foil packet of chocolate Pop Tarts from a box, and started eating one.

“Aren’t you going to toast that?” I asked him, frowning.

He shook his head, still chewing.

I sighed. “Anyway, I’ve also made copies of a few articles for you to read.”

He stared at me like I was an exhibit in a traveling freak show. “Articles? What about?”

“Child development. Child safety. Important stuff.”

I thought I saw him shudder, but I must have been imagining things.

“In fact…” I reached into my backpack and pulled out a red binder. “I made you your own binder.”