Chapter 6
Chapter six
A Game of Fetch
My fingers tighten around my phone, unable to listen to anything being said to me. Even though I mentioned I am at work a few times, Aidan is still rambling at lighting speed.
I’ve somehow managed to get myself into Holden’s house and I’ve barely scratched the surface on how Blackburn Press would be a good fit for him.
Other competing agencies were probably jumping at the chance to snag him as a client. If we pulled off his comeback, we would be talked about for ages as the go- to public relations firm.
With my cellphone attached to my ear, I pace outside of the room where Holden has snuck away to. Aidan’s spirals are becoming more frequent. Increasingly erratic after every family function and phone call producing this anxiety-ridden version of himself.
“I am not even sure what set him off this time. Every networking event they need me at, I am there.”
His rapid breathing only gets worse as the call continues. I’m barely able to get a word in.
“He just wants you to pick a lane—” I murmur, peeking my head into Holden’s library where he is seated, focused on a piece of paper.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
With the paper in one hand and a fork in another, Holden bends his neck down slightly to grab a bite of his food. Spinning his fork in the lo mein before catching my eyes staring at him through the doorframe.
I quickly pop my head out of the frame, returning my attention to the call, catching the tail end of Aidan’s rant.
“Charlotte, are you even listening?”
“Sorry, I am a bit distracted at work. I want to listen to you. I’m just…”
Aidan gasps for a breath. “Now my mother is asking me to be a part of the board she is a part of. A group of old ladies, drinking tea in the afternoon. Just take my balls at that point.”
“They probably just want you to join the company instead of venturing out on your own,” I quickly say before biting my bottom lip to stifle my laugh about his last comment.
“I would just end up like my father if I did that.”
I can practically see him turning bright red behind the phone. Anytime his dad and mom are brought into the mix, he becomes the most shaken version of himself.
Back when we first met, he had the kind of magnetism you crave to be around, because being around him, he made you feel like you could have a taste of what he had naturally.
“They are giving me two years now…”
Translation: Figure out your shit or no money for you.
“Seems pointless to make it until you’re twenty-eight instead of thirty.”
“Right. None of it makes sense.”
The thought of only living together, two years from now, under this circumstance, leaves a sharp pang in my chest.
With every failed board meeting, attempting to be successful in their eyes had been a complete bust. The pitches we prepared together withered away in a folder on my computer, never to be touched again because they were deemed “not polished” or a “bad investment.”
“The only thing he seems to care about is acquiring this oil rig company,” Aidan yells.
“Why don’t you get that guy in the same room as your dad and orchestrate the deal? I’m sure that would impress him…”
“Yes! The garden party. Why didn’t I think about that?”
Just the mention of the party makes me wince.
“This is brilliant. I got to start working on this! Love you.”
“Love—”
My voice cuts off, catching Holden looking up at me again. Before I can explain myself, he sets his food and script down on the table next to him.
“I wanna show you something.” He trails out of the room. I bite my cheek harder, speechless. I’m clearly failing. It’s been an hour since my foot has stepped over his threshold and I’ve accomplished nothing.
I trail behind him, noticing another door that is cracked open. Tiptoeing, I slowly push it open to see a blank canvas of a room that he is standing in.
The walls are unpainted and the room is unfurnished. He is rummaging through a box to the left of me when I detect a box labeled “miscellaneous” in the back.
My curiosity for what Holden is thinking is replaced with what is inside of this box. A box that looks to have been collecting dust for years. I gently blow on the box, letting the dust fall away.
Pulling the flaps apart until the seam splits open, my eyes laser in on what’s inside.
At the top of the miscellaneous items, I catch the All or Nothing five-season box set, their autographs scrawled above their photos—Holden as Logan, Graham as Billy and Sloane as Allison.
Holden and Graham are on the front, with their backs against each other on a basketball court. The irony of this cover, remembering all the news articles after the show ended.
I started reading the description: “Over five unforgettable seasons follow the misfit basketball team at Macintosh High as they find their way back to being a winning team. With a fiery coach, a school-wide scandal and two rival brothers, enjoy this teen drama about how winning means more than just the game.”
I must’ve been reading it out loud, because Holden creeps out of nowhere to snatch it out of my hands.
“Give me that.”
His face is no longer playful.
“I am sorry,” I say softly.
He drops the stack of paper he has in his hand on the box next to the one I’ve opened, taking a moment to read the blurb to himself. I can see his gaze shift from angry to dissociated, reminiscing at his blast from the past.
“I am going to get a beer,” he says in a huff, dropping the box set and leaving the room.
When he walks away, I am able to see a new script titled “Ageless” with words underlined in red everywhere between the pages.
“Are you coming?” he yells from the stairs. I drop the stack of papers and glide back down the steps.
I find him back in the kitchen as he is pulling out two Coronas from the fridge. He leaves one on the counter for me to have before he walks to the back patio, a few feet away from me, whistling loudly.
“Jack. Charlie.”
Two golden retrievers zoom by. Both dogs, half the size of me, almost take my legs out. I grip the counter to hold my balance before stumbling in their direction.
Holden is lying on the chair, already sipping his beer, when I greet him outside.
“So, what were those papers you were trying to show me?” I say, bringing the beer quickly to my face, gulping.
He says nothing.
We sip and watch the dogs roam around the yard in chilling silence. When Holden leaves to go get a second beer, I can hear the chant starting up again.
“A luz sabe.”
“A luz sabe.”
“A luz sabe.”
The sconces flicker on and off rapidly, daring me to do something. The sliding glass door opens up slowly and Holden pops through it. The simple act of him walking back out stops the lights from malfunctioning.