Page 66 of The Game
On Tuesday, I went looking for her, but whenever I arrived at the PR department, she would be “out.”
Part of me thinks the others were covering for her, but then again, she would have had to tell them about us, which I highly doubt she’s done, except for Samantha.
She’s been looking extra smug this week, probably watching us like her own little reality show.
On Wednesday, she was out of the office and did not check in.
I even double-checked with Clarissa at the front desk.
Stalker much?
Yes, but I’m feeling desperate.
Just as I get back to my apartment, my brother calls me.
I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but I decide against it. What if it is something important.
“Hey, Lil bro,” I greet him.
“Hey, how is everything in Chicago?” Braden asks me.
He’s the closest to me, two years younger than me, and 2 years older than our baby-brother Cameron.
“All good, would be nice if my brothers came to visit me sometimes though,” I tell him, a teasing tone in my voice.
Braden lives in New York, and Cameron is in Florida.
Our parents hate that we live so far apart, but then they have all the more reason to travel to visit their dear children.
Whenever I play a game in one of their cities, I make sure to see them, and they try to make a trip to Chicago when they can, but life can be hectic.
“Same goes for you, big bro,”
Braden tells me he’s planning to visit in a few weeks and asks if the apartment is all ready, which thankfully it is.
My family usually stays at my place because I have enough bedrooms available.
We discuss our team’s progress and whether we will be moving into the play-offs. The big looming question we’re all thinking about.
If we don’t manage to turn this around, we might lose our shot at the playoffs this year.
“Everything going good, Alexander? You sound a little tense,” I hesitate.
Christ.
First, my coach; now my brother can hear my frustration over a freaking phone call.
I really need to hunt down Sarah, like yesterday.
My head is a mess.
She may be scared and running from this, but I’m sure as hell am not.
“You have no idea, Braden. I’m dealing with women trouble,” I say, blowing out a breath, and he chuckles on the other end.
“Women? Like plural?”
“Christ, no. Only one, she’s more than enough,” I tell him.
