Nerdplay, p.6
Nerdplay, page 6
I clamp a hand over my mouth. Am I objectifying someone? Mortified, I hurry to catch up with the others at ring toss before Charlie arrives.
“Where’s the spy?” Bradley asks, craning his neck to see past me. “It probably isn’t safe to let him wander around the campground alone.”
“Relax, he’s getting a snack. Infiltration makes a man hungry.”
Bradley clucks his tongue. “He claims he’s getting a snack. What if he’s planting false evidence?”
“Evidence of what? The camp is actually a meth lab? Give the police procedurals a rest, Bradley.”
Angela shushes us. “Here he comes.”
I turn to see Charlie crest the hill. “Everyone, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is everyone.” I wave a hand airily.
The greetings are chock full of friendly enthusiasm.
“Mind if I join the game?” he asks.
“Step right up,” Ben says. “The more the merrier.”
Charlie ambles closer. “What kind of ring toss is this?”
I hold up a gold circlet. “This is the One Ring.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
His blank expression suggests otherwise. “The One Ring to Rule Them All.”
Realization settles in. “Oh, I get it.” He motions to the target. “And that’s the mountain.”
“Mordor.”
“Right. Mordor.”
“Like it says on your T-shirt,” I point out, grateful that he’s once again fully clothed.
He looks down as though he’s forgotten what he’s wearing.
“You need to throw the ring around Mordor,” I explain. “The team with the most ringers wins.”
“Technically, shouldn’t I be tossing the ring into Mordor?”
I slap a ring in his hand. “Take off your lawyer hat for a minute. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
He mimes hat removal. We divide into teams. The Hobbits versus the Elves. I’m a Hobbit and Charlie is an Elf.
I quickly learn he wasn’t kidding about his innate abilities. He lands every ring he tosses.
“He’s a ringer,” someone shouts.
Still, his team loses when Angela tosses her ring past Mordor. It rolls across the grass and lands in a firepit. I expect sour grapes from Charlie, but he’s a surprisingly good sport and tells us “good game.” I wonder if it’s part of the ruse or if he genuinely doesn’t mind. I hate that I can’t tell when a man is faking feelings. I ought to be an expert by now.
I consider the earlier suggestion to test the limits of Charlie’s commitment to LandStar. Suddenly it seems like the best idea I’ve ever heard.
“You know what, Charlie? You should sign up for Hero 101.”
“Why that one?”
“Because deep down all men long to be heroes. Here’s your big chance to act out the fantasy.”
Charlie seems to mull it over. “Okay. Count me in.”
“Wow. I didn’t think it would that easy to convince you.”
“I already have the hair,” he says, dragging a hand through dark blond locks. “Might as well go all in.”
“Already have the ego, too,” I mutter.
Charlie pulls out the schedule. “Where’s Hero 101? I don’t see it.”
I tap the paper. “The area between the lake and the arts and crafts cabin. I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m sure I can find it.”
“And miss out on the pleasure of your company? What kind of hostess would I be?”
Although we smile at each other, the tension between us is palpable and it isn’t the good kind. It’s the kind that says, ‘I don’t trust you and you don’t trust me, but let’s pretend otherwise.’
“What’s up with the guy in the Darth Vader costume?” he asks, as we stride across the campground.
I hold up a finger. “While Adam may technically be dressed as a certain famous Sith Lord, he likes to refer to himself as the Original Shadow Daddy.”
Charlie shoots me a quizzical look. “Why?”
“Legal reasons.”
“I mean why Original Shadow Daddy? What does that even mean?”
I pat his arm. “Oh, you sweet summer child. It’s nice to know we have something to teach an educated man like you.”
The group is already assembled by the time we reach the area. It’s many of the same campers from ring toss with the addition of Hunter and John. Hunter is easy to identify because he wears a camouflage pattern every single day. Different outfits. Always traditional camo. John, on the other hand, is hard to identify unless you know him. He has that kind of thin, pale appearance that makes you think he might have the ability to walk through walls.
“We need three judges,” I announce.
“We already have two of them,” Hunter replies, motioning between he and Bradley.
Angela raises her hand and wiggles her fingers. “Consider me the Russian judge. Anything less than absolute ten out of ten perfection and it’s a five from me.”
Charlie visibly shudders. “She and my father would get along famously.”
I clap my hands. “Participating heroes, take your places.”
Charlie shifts from foot to foot. “What’s the first test?”
My smile is sticky sweet. “Take your spot and find out, hero.” I point to a sturdy oak tree.
“Those broad shoulders would make Captain America weep,” Angela murmurs.
As much as I want to, I can’t argue with her. His shoulders nearly span the breadth of the huge trunk. He looks—dare I say it—hot. I immediately repent by mentally referring to him as Charles Xavier, except it occurs to me that I also find Charles Xavier dangerously attractive. Abort mental mission! Abort!
A few other campers line up as well, including Olivia. I toss a questioning glance at Ben, who simply nods.
“A key characteristic of a hero is the ability to withstand level-ten damage.” Stefan turns to Gloria. “Release the hounds.”
The ‘hounds’ are tennis balls. Gloria switches on the machine and balls start flying, mainly at Charlie. They pelt his limbs, and one narrowly misses his groin.
“Thank goodness,” Angela breathes.
Finally, he jumps aside and lets the remaining balls hit the tree. “Heroes have to demonstrate agility, too, right?”
Angela fans herself with a large leaf. “On a scale of Chris Hemsworth to Chris Pratt, that was a Chris Pine.”
“What about Chris Evans?” Charlie asks, seemingly ready to plead his case. The lawyer in him is stronger than the Force.
“Not even close, my dude,” Stefan says. “You don’t have America’s ass.”
“He is America’s ass,” I say under my breath.
Olivia waves her hands from her place in front of a tree. “Can we do it again? Nothing hit me.”
“You bruise too easily,” Ben tells her gently. “I can’t send you home looking like a plum.”
Her face crumples.
“You can do the next one,” I say. “It involves balance.”
She perks up. “Oh, I’m good at that. I did gymnastics until last year.”
“How about you, Charlie?” I ask. “Any gymnastics in your illustrious background?”
“No, but I dated a gymnast. Does that count?”
Angela pins him with a come-hither stare. “But could she suck her own toes?”
“Gross,” Olivia says. “Who would want to do that?”
“No one,” Ben answers quickly. “Absolutely no one.”
Over the next half hour, the heroes perform feats of balance and strength. At one point, I realize I’m ogling Charlie’s biceps as they strain under the weight of the tree branch. Those muscles deserve a little hero worship, no doubt about it, but I’m not the one willing to play acolyte. Olivia then complains she’s being treated like a child until she’s given the chance to lift the same branch as Charlie. After that, she’s more than happy to partake in the kid version.
I notice Angela inching closer to the dock. The next thing I know, she flips over a kayak and pushes it into the water. “Hurry! There’s a kitten on top of an overturned kayak in the water. What do you do?”
“Why would a kitten be on a kayak?” he asks.
“It’s roleplaying. That means roll with it!” Angela shoos him forward. “This Russian judge wants to see him shirtless.”
But Charlie doesn’t do her the favor of ripping off his shirt. The only articles he’s willing to remove are his socks and shoes, which he sets carefully on the grass away from the water’s edge.
“What are you doing?” Hunter yells. “That kitten is drowning, man.”
Charlie turns to address him. “My shoes are Gucci. I can’t get them wet. They’ll be ruined.”
A collective groan follows his declaration.
“Give him an F!” John shouts. I swear it’s the loudest declaration he’s ever made.
“Touch grass,” Olivia adds with disdain.
“We don’t really assign grades for performance, you know that,” I say.
“Sex with you must be very lackluster,” Angela replies. “If you don’t give feedback, how will they ever improve?”
My cheeks burn and I pray Charlie didn’t hear her comment.
“What’s that about lackluster sex?” he asks.
Terrific. Now I want to melt into a puddle and evaporate into the earth. “Just rescue the kitten on the kayak, hero.”
Charlie wiggles his toes as he wades into the water. “I can’t remember the last time I walked outside in bare feet. This actually feels good.”
“What about the beach?” I ask.
“I have water shoes.”
“Well, at least you know he wears condoms,” Angela murmurs.
Heat flames my face. I swear the woman is trying to set me on fire.
Charlie retrieves the kayak and pulls it to shore, although now his clothes are soaking wet, offering another glimpse of his enviable physique. I try to focus on his bare feet. There’s nothing sexy about those, except—
Dammit. Even his feet look good. On what bizarre planet do a man’s feet trigger such a positive physiological response? I must be ovulating. That’s the only explanation.
My phone pings and I’m grateful to realize it’s dinnertime. Time flies when you’re practicing saving the world.
Olivia objects. “We haven’t done the hero pose yet,” she insists.
Charlie’s face is completely blank. “What’s the hero pose?”
“Like you jumped from a helicopter and landed in the middle of a group of bad guys.” She drops to a crouched position, one hand on the ground, one leg splayed and the other knee bent. Slowly, her head tilts up so that she’s gazing menacingly at the bad guys as she blows a loose strand of hair out of her eye.
Charlie elbows me. “She’s looking at me. Am I the baddie?” he whispers.
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
Olivia remains fixed in her position. “Quick! I need a snappy one-liner. I’m still perfecting mine.”
Angela shakes her wrists in excitement. “Ooh, how about ‘look what the cat dragged in?’”
Olivia’s head droops. “That only works if the bad guy is saying it.”
“I’ve got one,” Stefan interjects. “Looks like I got the drop on you, boys.”
“Good enough,” Olivia says. “Looks like I got the drop on you.” She pulls herself to a standing position and bows with a flourish. “Your turn, Charlie.”
He jogs in place for a second, then closes his eyes and blows out a breath.
“I’ve never seen Spider-Man do that,” I say.
“Leave him alone,” Olivia says. “Can’t you see he’s getting in the zone?”
Charlie shoots me a triumphant smile that makes me want to drop kick him into the lake. He pretends to jump from a great height, then copies Olivia’s landing.
“I need a quick line too,” he says. “I was so determined to stick the landing, I forgot to think of one.”
“Sorry,” Stefan replies. “I gave Olivia my best one.”
Charlie looks up at us. “Can you hurry? I’m getting a leg cramp.”
“We deduct points for cramps,” I tell him. “Heroes don’t get those. They ingest the requisite amount of potassium.”
He glares at me, then says in his best hero voice, “Thought I’d drop in for a chat, fellas.”
“Why are the bad guys always guys?” Olivia asks, bristling with irritation. “Girls can be bad, too. We’re equal opportunity evildoers.”
Charlie stands upright and stretches his hamstring. “Thought I’d drop in for a chat, villainous ladies. Better?”
Olivia grins at him. “Better.”
How about that? Charlie’s actually being a good sport. Probably a legal tactic to throw me off his shady scent. Then again, all his interactions with Olivia have been positive so far. He seems like a natural with kids. I bet he’d make a great dad.
Ugh. My ovaries have entered the chat.
I quickly shut them out of the conversation and return to reality.
Charlie’s hands are on his hips. “What else do heroes do? Is there a cat that needs saving from a tree?”
“Those are emergency rescue workers,” Gloria says.
“I know, but aren’t they heroes too?”
“Darn right they are,” John agrees.
“Last year we filmed training montages,” Bradley reminds me.
Ben smiles. “Yes, we did. I added the Rocky theme song to mine.”
Charlie appears uneasy. “I’m not up for a video.”
I sense his tension and decide to poke. “Why not? Afraid it’ll make the rounds at the office?”
“The Internet is forever,” he says.
“I didn’t post mine anywhere,” Ben objects. “It was for my own enjoyment.”
Charlie chuckles. “You’ve never helped a client recover a sex tape and it shows.”
“You’ve actually done that?” I ask in a low voice.
“It isn’t my specialty, but when you have an important client, and that important client has a daughter…” He shrugs. “I was glad I could help.”
“But you said the Internet is forever. How did you help?”
“We were able to recover the video before the ex-boyfriend managed to do anything with it.”
Angela edges closer to him. “And might you have a copy of said video?”
Ben clears his throat. “We have a minor present.”
“A minor who’s worked up an appetite,” Olivia adds. “Can we eat now?”
I gesture to the main area. “The cafeteria is open. First come, first served.”
Charlie taps the brim of Adam’s mask. “Don’t you get hot in there, buddy?”
“Sweltering, but some of us must suffer for our art.”
“Make sure you stay hydrated. It’d be too easy to pass out in this heat.”
“I have electrolyte powder packets in my cabin, but I appreciate your concern.”
“Just looking out for the little folks.” He stops to give me a pointed look. “Like a hero would do.”
Either Charlie’s a great actor, or he actually had fun today. Is it wrong to hope it’s the latter?
He falls in step beside me as we follow the hungry mob.
“How’d I do?” Charlie asks.
“You can tie me up anytime,” Angela interrupts as she passes us.
“I believe the hero does the untying,” Charlie corrects her.
She keeps walking without turning around. “I said what I said.”
“Is she always like that?” Charlie asks.
“Yep.”
Charlie sniffs the air as we enter the building. “Do I smell hot dogs?”
“You do, indeed. It’s a camp staple.”
“As it should be.” He peels his T-shirt away from his chest. “I should change my damp clothes first.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Save your hero a seat?”
“I would use the term loosely. Superman wouldn’t dream of stopping to take off his boots before entering the water.”
He holds up the loafers. “That’s because Superman doesn’t pay Gucci prices. I’ll meet you inside.” He veers off toward his cabin, and I linger outside the cafeteria to make sure he doesn’t double back toward my office. I have no idea what he thinks he might find there, but it’s the only place I can think he’d want to snoop other than my house, which would be too difficult to manage. It isn’t far, but it’s far enough that he’d have a hard time explaining his absence.
I fill my plate with a hotdog slathered in mustard, corn on the cob that will undoubtedly get caught between my teeth, and a small salad drenched in a packet of bleu cheese dressing.
“We’re living the dream,” Gloria says as she bites into her hotdog.
Charlie sets his tray down beside mine. “You saved me a seat.”
“You told me to.”
“I know, but I didn’t expect you to actually do it.” His plate has two hotdogs, two cobs of corn, and a pile of salad without dressing. “My compliments to the chef.”
I gesture toward the kitchen. “Bernie takes care of the food. She’s a treasure. She’s been working here since my grandparents owned the place.”
“How old is she?” Charlie asks.
I spear lettuce onto my fork. “Nobody knows.”
“And nobody here is gauche enough to ask a woman her age,” Angela says pointedly.
A mischievous twinkle forms in Gloria’s eye. “We are, however, gauche enough to share that Angela is on the hunt for a fourth husband.”
“Some people collect Pokémon trading cards. Angela collects husbands,” I add.
Angela guffaws. “Think of them more as replacements for ones that are broken or lost.”
“Have you identified any potential replacements?” Charlie asks.
Angela glances casually around the room. “Herb is currently at the top of my list.”
Charlie cranes his neck. “Which one is Herb?”
“The man in the Hawaiian shirt.”
Charlie pulls a face. “That guy? Seriously?”
Angela takes a dainty sip of her water. “Why not? I prefer men the way I prefer my snatch—bald and stuffed with sausage.”
