Page 18 of The Goalie in Room 1

Me

And?

Aaron

You, big brother, are hopeless.

Me

As if you are looking at the boys, subs, and hot as fuck queer men.

Aaron

Someone has to help you out.

[IMAGE]

Wear this. I know you have the clothes in that massive fucking closet to pull this together.

Me

You have to be kidding!?

I’m not cutting a vintage concert T-shirt.

Aaron

No. I’m not. You look just like the man.

You prick.

And it’s not like you don’t have twenty of them.

I groaned. It wasn’t as bad as other costumes my brother could have recommended, but seriously… I pulled on the clothes he suggested, except for the T-shirt. Before heading downstairs, I went back to the bathroom, tied the bandanna around my head, and combed through the product I’d put in my hair after showering. The top of my hair parted down the middle, flopping over the blue fabric wrapped around my head while the back flipped up, showing off the natural wave in my hair.

Sighing, I went back into the bedroom and filled my pockets with my wallet, phone, and keys that had been lying in the valet on the nightstand before grabbing the shirt and heading to the kitchen. I cursed as I sliced the sleeves off the shirt and then made deep cuts down the sides.

When I pulled it on, I sighed. “At least I worked out today,” I muttered to myself.

Turning, I headed to the garage, catching my reflection in the large leaning mirror sitting in the foyer. A scoff clawed at my throat. I looked ridiculous. I was a thirty-nine-year-old man. I should not be dressed like a damn stripper, even if I looked like the actor.

Me

I hate you.

Aaron

No you don’t.

And don’t even think of changing.

Or not coming.

I shook my head. My little brother was the bane of my existence. He was just as bad as Phoenix for butting into my life, or what they considered my lack of a life. As if Aaron were any better, as a police officer who dedicated his life to the force. And like me, Halo House.

Me

Never said anything about changing or not showing up.