Page 13 of Run, Run, Roommates
He looks at me like I have an answer. I shrug, palms out to the side. I wish I had a thousand dollars to throw around to charity, and that’s a fraction of what William pledged.
“They haven’t said anything about what the average pledge amount is, right?” I ask. “Or if there’s a minimum or maximum?”
I sit back down and we scroll the form. Nada.
“Hold on.” Marco pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps it a few times, and soon I hear ringing.
“Hey, man.” A shudder goes through my body at the sound of Greg’s voice.
“Quick question for you; how much did you get pledged for this game?”
“Feeling a competitive edge, are we?” He chuckles, and then tells us that his pledges are just under a thousand dollars.
“Why, what’s yours?”
“I have to talk to William about it. This paperwork is messy.”
Hmm. He dodged the question. Interesting.
“Well, we could make it more exciting,” Greg drawls.
I scoff silently. Like this is going to be boring?
“What do you have in mind?” Marco asks.
“Hmm . . . what about the loser sets the winner up on a date with a friend of their choice. Like, say . . . if I win, you set me up on a date with your teammate?”
My eyes widen and I shake my head vigorously.
Marco frowns at his phone. “You gotta do that work yourself. I’m not pushing you on Brin.”
Greg laughs. “Okay, fine. How about the loser has to be the winner’s personal assistant for a week?”
Marco looks skeptical. “How would that work?”
“When you lose, you have to spend a week doing anything from my job that I can delegate to you, plus you have to do things to assist me. My laundry, errands, et cetera.”
My roommate chuckles. “You mean when I win, you have to meal prep for me for a week, deep clean my running gear, and hand-pick William’s rotating art collection.”
I have to admit, I really like the idea of Greg hand-washing Marco’s running shorts. And I know that picking art for William’s apartment is Marco’s least favorite job, because it requires taking a trip outside of the city to a climate-controlled storage facility and overseeing the art being packed up and then distributed around the house.
Three times.
Because even though Billy Bob gives absolutely zero guidance for what he’s in the mood for, he has strong opinions and doesn’t hesitate to make Marco do it over and over again.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Greg says. “What do you say, are we on?”
The guys quickly agree to their side deal.
When Marco hangs up, I turn on the couch to face him. “You didn’t tell Greg how much William pledged. Why?”
“I think this is a mistake,” Marco admits. “William must have put two zeros for cents in there. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Do you think he is even going to notice the amount that gets donated?”
“No . . .” he says slowly, as if it’s just now dawning on him.
“And if he gets upset, it’s his own fault. You have the paperwork.”
