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Reginald Willard III
The phone slips from my hand and clatters loudly onto the hardwood floor. Tears well up in my eyes and threaten to spill over.
“So, does that mean it's good news?” asks Mr. Macklin. “I can never tell with you young people.”
All I can do is nod.
4
JAMIE
Now this is what I call an ideal evening.
My deck table is covered with platters of burgers, sausage, brisket, kebabs, and perfectly grilled corn. Any gaps between them have been filled with bowls of salads, fruit, chips, dips, or sweet treats.
The citronella torches have been lit. The fireflies are dancing around the yard, and my two closest friends are lounging at my table.
The only thing missing is Julia.
Wesley bites into his burger and moans, distracting me from my melancholy thoughts.
“This is fantastic. When are you going to leave Catalyst and come work for me?”
“When you stop being surprised that I can cook,” I retort. “Seriously, you do this every weekend, Wes.”
“And every weekend, I’m offended you haven’t joined me yet. Your talents are wasted here.”
“Speak for yourself.” Phillip huffs. “I’m more than happy to reap the benefits.”
“Says the man who brought store-bought pasta salad to the barbeque.”
“Careful there, Wes, your superiority complex is showing,” Phillip says with a grin
“It’s not a superiority complex if you actually are better than a grocery store deli.”
“Do you want me to break out the ruler?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “Or can we end this measuring contest without whipping anything out?”
They turn on me with matching smirks, and I immediately regret saying anything.
“Now, Doctor, how would you classify someone who constantly brings genitals into things? What sort of complex would that be?”
“It’s quite a serious one, I’m afraid,” Phillip says, adjusting his glasses.
“Which is?”
“He needs to get laid.”
I shoot them a glare, but it only makes them laugh harder.
“I swear, you’re no better than some of the kids we mentor.”
“Maybe, but we’re at least better looking.” Wesley laughs.
“Speaking of which, the rosters came out on Friday. Has anybody looked yet?” asks Phillip.
Wesley and I shake our heads.
“Did you?” I ask.
