Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Carl rocked up to the bunch of dudes in green that Grayson had said would be waiting for him, and got a few gruff hellos in response. “You any good at history? We’re in the finals tonight. One win away from an all-inclusive weekend holiday. Damn, it’s a bad night for Grayson to be late.”
A bell rang through the hoppy-smelling pub and one of the dudes shoved out a bar stool for him to sit. Carl leaned on the sticky table and tried to recall what he learned in school history as questions came flying through a microphone. One of the green team answered all music related Qs. Another, sports. Another, geography. Another, literature. Then came history, and it. Did. Not. Go. Well.
Every question was multiple choice, and each and every one he guessed. Wrong.
The yellow table behind them cheered and trumpeted upon scoring the highest points, and his fellow Green Gruffs muttered under their breaths.
Carl ran a hand through his hair with an apologetic grimace.
“He sends this guy in his place?” someone muttered.
“Shh, he’s right there.”
“We were that close to winning. He only needed to get two right. Two.”
Carl climbed off his stool with all the dignity he could muster and rang out a self-deprecating laugh. “History’s not my area.”
“There’s a fun round in twenty minutes. Trivia—”
A whispered scoff carried down the line of guys to his ears. “Seriously, you’re asking him to stay?”
Carl’s neck and ears were on fire. He forced a smile and waved the offer of another round away. The space across the pub floor to the exit couldn’t have been more than two dozen steps, but they took forever to walk. Each sticky squelch had more eyes glancing his way. Who’s the guy leaving already? Think he’s the one that tanked the Greens. Bless him.
One of the Green Gruffs chased after him and caught up as Carl sucked in the crisp breeze outside. “Sorry about those guys. They don’t wear disappointment well.”
Carl didn’t think his stomach could drop further. Disappointment. Wow, yeah, he elicited that. He shrugged and ducked into the convenience store next door.
“I’ll tell them they should keep their thoughts to themselves.”
Carl found himself dithering in the shop without any clear goal, but he pretended to be in the market for something he hadn’t found yet, and—magazines. He zipped to them and picked up one of his faves, flipping through.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do another round?”
Even if they kept their thoughts to themselves, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t think them—
Green Gruff Number Two entered the convenience store, flagging for his mate. “There you are. Why’d you—” He caught sight of Carl and his expression shifted to disapproval. He grabbed his friend by the arm. “Come on. Leave him to his . . . zodiacs. Explains it all.”
The Green Gruffs left the store, one towing, the other being towed, and as soon as they were out of sight, Carl’s hands started to shake. The horoscopes before him became a blur of colour; he snapped the magazine shut and stuffed it back on the shelf.
He ran after the Green Gruffs and shouted as they headed back into the pub, “Music. I’d have aced the musical questions. I’m a pianist!”
He dropped his head and turned to Grayson who was paused beside his ute, scarf up over his nose, a dark, slightly judgy gaze on Carl.
Carl stormed past him and that truth-seeking penetration. “I don’t want to hear it.”
This whole day had shown him it was better to be Jason Lyall. Being Carl . . . was embarrassing.
He struggled with the lock around his bike and shook it before trying again. Then he shoved Toto on his head and wrangled his freed bike down the footpath.
Grayson coughed and called his name, once, twice.
Three times Carl ignored him—
A hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around until Carl was looking into perplexed and worried eyes. “What happened?”
From inside Grayson’s jacket—Jason’s (was he trying to tease him?)—light flickered and a phone buzzed. Like a mechanical heart going haywire. A little like how his own silly one was behaving.
“It’s probably your mates wondering why on earth you sent me to step in. Answer, they’ll fill you in.”
Grayson didn’t answer. He ignored the buzzing lights bursting from his chest and held Carl’s shoulder tighter. “What are you talking about?”
Carl shrugged Grayson’s hand off him and returned to shoving his bike.
“Please don’t leave like this. Where are you going?”
“Home. Have fun with trivia.”
“Aren’t you my PA for the week? Come join—”
Carl spun around, bike falling against a lamppost, helmet tumbling from his head and catching on the handles. “Are you kidding me? I’ve hated all the jobs you’ve given me, but this one was the worst. Did you send me there for a laugh? See how much of a fool I am?”