Chapter Max Role Play
Max
Role Play
"Hunny, I’m home!" I push through the front door of Sam and Olive’s house, kicking my shoes off.
"Back here!" Sam’s voice floats through the open-concept home.
Making my way toward the back screen door, I notice all the little touches Olive has made.
When Sam bought her this house, Bridget did the decor.
Since then, it’s become a little more lived in, with books scattered on the coffee table, wedding signs leaning against the wall near the fireplace, and about a million pairs of shoes scattered around.
Olive is a clean freak, unless it comes to footwear.
I press my hand to the wood frame, slipping out onto the covered deck. Olive is perched on an iron chair, surrounded by what look to be lists—or maybe schedules—while Sam is sprawled out on a wicker loveseat with a beer in his hand.
"Should I have brought a Franklin Covey?" My brother laughs at my comment, knowing full well I’ve never owned a planner.
Olive huffs, grabbing a stack of the papers and tapping them on their glass tabletop. "Laugh it up, boys." She lays the same stack down on top of another pile. "You’ll both be thanking me when this wedding goes off without a hitch."
Sam sits up, pursing his lips to stifle his laugh. "Babe, everything is going to be perfect." He motions for me to sit while widening his eyes at me. "Isn’t that right, Max?"
I slide into a chair opposite my clearly stressed-out and soon to be sister-in-law. "Of course it is." I reach across the table and pat her hand. My eyes catch sight of her tattoo, one that she now cherishes, and my thoughts immediately go to Sadie. Could she really be cursed?
"Hey Ollie, I have a few questions about the wedding… and one that’s completely unrelated."
Olive settles back further into her chair and grabs a wine glass that’s full of sparkling water to take a sip. The girl has developed a serious addiction to Pellegrino recently—she’s not pregnant, just fancy.
"Wedding first… so then I can stop thinking about it for the rest of the night."
I grin at Sam, wiggling my eyebrows. This may or may not be payback for all his heckling yesterday—or, my whole life. "Okay. So I was thinking about my role, and I’m wondering how Richard is going to take the news."
Her face twists in confusion. "What news?"
"Well, I mean, Sam said I could walk you down the aisle. I’m just wondering what your dad’s going to do during that part."
My brother practically spits out his beer. "I did not say that, and you know it."
"Max, no. You’re not—"
"Ollie, it’s my dream. If I don’t get to do that, then what will I do?" I put on my best impression of Benny, widening my eyes to the point that they water.
"You’re the best man, Max. You’ll be front and center with Sam the whole time." She looks between the two of us like she can’t believe she’s explaining this.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh. "Okay, so I get to make a speech then. Should it be at the rehearsal or during the reception?" I snap my fingers and point one at her. "Or actually, I could do both."
"No shot." Sam stands and moves to the table we’re sitting at as he cuts off my request. It’s brave honestly, the daggers she’s throwing him could make the toughest guy cower. "Xav is making the speech since he doesn’t get to be my best man."
I motion toward my chest, as if I’m pulling a dagger out of it—gutted twice in one night.
"Say it with a little more disdain for your bloodline, would ya.
" I shake my shoulders out. "So no walking you down the aisle, no speeches…
What is the point of my role again? I think we all know this day is about me. I need to be a star, Ollie."
A laugh rips out of my brother’s fiancée. It’s almost maniacal as she straightens her papers once more. Sam glares at me, not finding any of this funny.
"Oh, actually. I have something I need someone to do. It’ll be the perfect job for you." Olive picks through her stacks, stopping once she finds a list titled: Wedding Party. "Do you want the most important job of all?"
"Ollie!" I slam my hand on my heart. "I can’t marry you, sweetheart. But thanks for asking." I place my hand by my mouth, blocking Sam’s view of my lips. "Remember the time we almost kissed? Spoiler alert… I do too!" I whisper shout.
"Shut up, idiot." Sam’s face goes from a glare to downright murderous, while Olive rolls her eyes.
"Very funny, and that’s exactly why you don’t get to make a speech." She sips her drink once more. "I was serious, though. I have a very important question to ask you." Olive places her hand on top of mine. "Will you be one of my flower girls?"
"Do I get the biggest basket of petals?" I ask with zero hesitation.
Olive giggles, chancing a look at Sam, who’s still not finding any of this funny. "Well, Sammy is the other one, and I’m pretty sure she can’t even carry a rattle, so how about you get to carry her and throw all the petals."
"Sold!" I stand, pushing away from the table. "I’m going to grab a drink to celebrate. Does anyone need anything?"
My brother finally laughs but shakes his head no, and Olive points to her mostly full beverage. "Okay, cool. Be right back." I exit the porch, heading directly to the fridge inside, where I know I’ll find a Diet Coke waiting just for me—and maybe a snack.
My fingers wrap around the stainless steel bar as I pull the French-door refrigerator wide open. These two have been shredding for the wedding, or so they say, but I’m pleasantly surprised by the leftover Chinese that greets me.
"Hey, Ollie!" I shout toward the back door, hoping she can hear me.
"Yes, Maxwell?" There’s an edge of amusement in her tone. I’m sure she was expecting me to ask for something to eat once I was given a drink—like that mouse in the storybook my mom used to read to me, I always need something more.
My eyes scan the fridge again. "Is this lo mein old?"
My brother’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder, causing me to jump. "Shit! Give a guy a heart attack, why don’t you." I shake my head. "Not a good look to kill the best man and flower girl before the ceremony."
Sam chuckles, swatting my back a little too hard. "She bought that shit the second I told her you were coming over." He reaches around me, pulling out another beer. "I’ve had nothing but chicken and steamed broccoli for weeks. Can you get a girlfriend so my wife stops taking care of you?"
I grab the carton from the fridge and a fork from the drawer next to it. "No can do. I have everything I need right here."
Sam mumbles something under his breath, but I don’t stick around to listen. Instead, I make my way to the safety that comes with being near Olive, and plop back down at the table outside.
"Ew, you’re not even going to heat it up?" She sucks her teeth, her face turning mildly green. "What took you so long to get over here, anyway? I ordered it at six when I thought you were coming."
"Ewand," I attempt with a mouth full of noodles.
Sam walks past me, taking a spot next to Olive after sliding my drink in front of me. I forgot to grab it, but big brother knows what I like. I pop the tab on the crisp Diet Coke, using it to wash down the noodles.
"I sorta stole Sadie’s car and had to return it."
"You did what?" My brother barks.
"I mean, it wasn’t technically stealing. Howie asked me to take it from Sid and fix her flat tire, so I did." I wave my hand as if to say it’s no big deal.
A smile forms on Olive's face, and now she’s the one wiggling her eyebrows. "Who’s Sadie?"
"Nope." I stop my fork halfway to my mouth. "Don’t look at me like that."
"It’s the cousin. Remember, I told you he ran into her at 1793 and then she beat him up." Sam laughs into his beer.
Olive follows suit, laughing to herself while widening her eyes at me. "Fixing her car seems like a friendly thing to do, and while I know you two"—she points between me and Sam—"have a history of saving stranded women. Why would she think you stole it?"
My mouth is full of lo mein, but I mumble my response at her anyway. "Sha din know."
"Stop!" Olive’s hands fly to her face, covering her eyes. "She didn’t ask for help… you just did it? You’re a stranger, Max. You can’t just take people’s cars without telling them. Oh my God, Ari is going to die when I tell her."
Sam blows out a whirring breath. "Max, don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong." My big brother assumes I just inserted myself—normally, I would. But in this case I was asked.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I pause before delivering my rebuttal. "I didn’t. I already told you that Howie asked me to. Did you really want me to deny him help? After all he’s done for you two?"
"Well, no. Of course not." Olive sips her fancy water. "How did she take it? Is that why you’re late?"
I push the empty lo mein container away from me, leaning back in my chair a little further. "Not great at first. But we talked it out. I think we’re friends now, which is good considering—"
"Considering what?" Sam places both hands on the table, his interest finally piqued.
I roll my lips in, deciding the best way to break the news to them.
Obviously, everyone survived what happened last year—Olive’s probably better for it, to be honest. But that doesn’t mean that either of them likes to discuss Irina or her whereabouts.
It’s sort of become one of those unspoken topics, and we all pretend it didn’t happen most of the time.
"How told me he thinks she’s cursed… like you were." I look at Olive, gauging her reaction before I continue. "Not by Irina, and not with a tattoo. But I guess she has sisters, the ones that own 1793."
Olive’s face twists, and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. "Did he say how she’s cursed? Did she ask for something, or what happened exactly?"
I shrug. "No, he didn’t have any hard evidence.
Said something about a book she has, and when she wrote something, the color of the ink changed.
" I take the final glug of my drink. "I can’t really tell if he’s just being cautious, but she opened up to me tonight about some other stuff.
I’m going to keep an eye on it, but it’s nothing either of you need to worry about. "
I stand, grab my trash, and push my chair in. "I’m going to head out. But please keep that between us until I know more."
Olive nods, her face a mixture of confused and amused—like maybe she’s as curious as I am.
"Yeah, bro. We will. Be careful though, we don’t need you getting mixed up in anything like that.
" Sam’s declaration makes me laugh. He didn’t shy away from Olive when she had something similar going on.
And we don’t even know if there’s anything real to this.
Howie could just be being Howie. He’s na?ve in a lot of ways—it’s not that far-fetched to think he’d jump to conclusions.
I toss my brother a nod, then leave. As I step up to my truck, my phone dings in my pocket.
Unknown
Hey, Friend…
It has to be from Sadie as she’s the only person whose number isn’t stored in my phone. Oh, and the message above it is the formal Hello she sent herself earlier.
New phone, who dis?
I quickly store her number before she responds, adding all the descriptors I can think of.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Max!
Weird, that’s my name too.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
That joke is old. You used it yesterday.
Fair. What’s up? Miss me already?
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
No… but I need help, and if I’m really trying this friend thing out… figured I’d give you a shot. ONE SHOT, to be clear.
Alright, bet… I’m a lot of things, Sade, but a loser ain’t one of them. Do your worst.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Solve this clue, give me one word.
A very useful toolbox: Like a good neighbor.
I don’t hesitate.
Statefarm
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
That’s two words, even if you smash them together and pretend it’s not. Try again.
Thought I only got one chance?
While I wait for her response, I rack my brain for what the answer could be.
I really thought I had it the first time, but overconfidence is a personality trait.
It’s probably something simple, like helpful.
But wouldn’t she have gotten that? I quickly Google synonyms for the word, but then decide to just go with my first instinct.
I mean, that’s what I'm doing here—being helpful to her.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
I’m feeling generous.
Helpful
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Thank you!