Playing the Game Read Online Free

proper age.”
    Well, that answered that. Her neighbors were so totally a couple.
    Henry raised his voice to a normal volume. “You might have taken the time to dry your hair, Jay. The skewers will be another minute.”
    “Oh.” Jay flopped on a chaise and sighed, an overdramatic gust. “I’ll rest until the food’s ready, then. I worked extra-hard moving those boxes. Not that I couldn’t handle it. My stamina is massive.”
    God, if he weren’t taken, she’d be all over that, tickling his ribs and straddling his thighs.
    Alice flushed the instant she caught Henry watching her.
    He tipped his head toward Jay, returned her uncertain smile with a tiny nod, and clapped his hands once.
    “Let’s get some food on the table, shall we?”
    They ate with hands reaching and elbows bumping and Jay stealing pieces from both of their plates. She learned Henry was a well-respected oil painter. Jay owned a messenger service but preferred bike runs to paperwork. She described her work as a mechanical engineer, drafting and design in the office with a team.
    Henry, it turned out, was thirty-seven, a little older than she’d thought. Jay was twenty-eight going on twelve, just under eighteen months older than she.
    At least Henry didn’t mind her ogling his boyfriend over lunch. Unless he was trying to set her up with his roommate. Which is it, Henry, boyfriend or wingman?
    * * * *
    She drove with an abundance of caution to avoid losing Henry and to control the unfamiliar beast that was Duffy’s van. They’d left Jay after lunch with her apartment key, the building’s hand truck, and his assurances he’d get the chosen furniture out of storage with no problem.
    Well, that and Henry’s promise he’d stop for ice cream in Coolidge Corner and bring Jay back “something good.”
    Fortune smiled on her with a parking space in front of her old building. She fed the meter while Henry slipped into a space down the block. The length in his stride and the breadth of his chest quickened her pulse as he approached.
    “This won’t take a minute. I just need to run in.”
    “It’s no trouble, Alice. Please, take your time.” He scanned the street, no doubt noting the differences she had when she’d hunted for a new apartment.
    Goodbye, litter. Goodbye, bars with heavy foot traffic in the middle of the afternoon. Goodbye, flickering neon sex-shop sign.
    He turned back to her with a neutral expression. “I’ll escort you inside.”
    She was tempted to ask whether he worried for her safety or his own. She wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to stand on this street, but inviting him in made her stomach squirm. His apartment with Jay screamed pristine elegance. Not even a throw pillow out of place. Her old place…well.
    “Hey, it’s your funeral. Just, uh, watch where you step and try not to touch anything. For your own safety.” She forced a smile and opened the outer door.
    The mailbox vestibule smelled of cat urine. Probably cat urine. Hopefully cat urine.
    “You might want to hold your breath, too.”
    Henry kept his silence as she unlocked the inner door. He held the door for her and followed her down the hall without commenting about the peeling paint or the burned-out bulbs. She almost wished he would, even if his words were scathing.
    She unlocked the apartment’s three locks and shoved hard with her shoulder. “The door sticks sometimes.” Why did she feel she needed to apologize to Henry?
    Her foot struck a beer can. She looked toward the sounds of gunfire. “Hey, Miles.”
    The man on the couch grunted, staring at the oversize television set. Soldiers in camouflage crouched behind objects on the screen, periodically popping out to fire. “Yeah, hey, Al.”
    “Winning?”
    “Fuck no.” His voice raised. “ Some people can’t get their asses in gear and take out that fucking bunker.”
    He was talking into the headset to his gaming squad. Typical. No point in introducing Henry. “Karen or Duffy