Page 51 of Make the Play
“Are you serious?” Andrew whistles long and low, grumbling to himself for a minute before he finally speaks. “Just so we’re clear, you want me to get you in with one of the most sought after tailors in the area to get your friend a custom suit, which you need ready in nine days?”
“Yup,” Jason confirms, ignoring the way Emerson is gaping at him. “That’s a very accurate read on the situation. Well done, Andrew.”
There’s a long pause before Andrew replies, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I knew you’d come through for me,” Jason crows. “Best big brother in the whole world.”
“I said I’ll try,” Andrew reminds him. “It took weeks the last time I needed to get Charlie a new custom suit for that gallery opening in Santa Monica last year. But—Denise likes me. I might be able to get her to do me a very huge favor. Let me handle this. I’ll text you when I figure out the details.”
“You’re the best, Andrew.”
“Yeah, yeah, you all love me and can’t live without me,” Andrew sighs with the air of someone long suffering. Then again he’s been putting up with all three of his younger brothers’ bullshit for years so maybe he is. “I’ll talk to you later, Jason. Also ignore everything Charlie put in the group chat. I did not—well, it’s not true, that’s all you need to know,” Andrew says in a rush, hanging up the phone before Jason can ask what the fuck he’s talking about.
“What just happened?” Emerson blinks.
“When it comes to Charlie and Andrew, I’ve learned sometimes it’s better not to ask,” Jason explains, unable to resist sneaking a peak at the group chat which is up to over one hundred messages. A peak at the clock affirms he has no time to figure out what the fuck is going on. He swipes open his notes app, scrolling until he finds his Emerson list—one that’s grown quite a bit since he started it—adding never been to a school dance (make sure he has fun!) before shutting off his phone, laying it face down on his desk to return his attention to more important matters—Emerson and his lunch.
* * *
Jason leansagainst the wall of the coffee shop, sipping at his iced white mocha and staring down the street. Andrew told them to meet him here at two, and while it’s only five minutes after, that’s as out of character for him as it would be for Emerson to be late.
Luckily he’s got something sweet and cold to sustain him. They’d screwed up Emerson’s chai latte, something Emerson had refused to tell them. Jason found out they’d added espresso after watching Emerson grimace several times in the span of five minutes. Refusing to let Emerson ingest something he hated, he’d taken the drink back in and politely asked them to fix it, which with the afternoon rush seems to be taking forever. Jason offered to wait for it himself, but Emerson said he’d rather not meet Andrew alone and sent Jason to wait outside where he’s been the last few minutes.
He takes another sip of his mocha, wishing he’d gotten that scone he was ogling when he catches sight of Andrew’s cherry red Mazda sailing down the road. It slows in front of the tailor’s a few store fronts down, pulling up against the curb. Andrew hops out, pushing his hair off his face and waving to Jason before plunking a few quarters in the meter.
“You’re late,” Jason yells, “you’re never—” but the rest of his words cut off when the passenger door opens and out steps a carbon copy of Andrew, if Andrew was dressed by a toddler—his neon green crocs, purple linen trousers and garish floral shirt a stark contrast to Andrew’s pale pink and tan ensemble. “Why the hell are you here, Charlie?”
“Is that any way to greet your favorite big brother?” Charlie asks, pushing his shades up into his hair.
Andrew steps in front of Charlie. “Pretty sure I’m his favorite big brother after what I agreed to in order to get this done.”
That makes Jason frown. After their phone call in his office yesterday, he’d merely texted it was done along with an address and time. Jason didn’t realize it’d been difficult for him.
“What did you do in order to get Denise to see him anyway?” Charlie asks, crossing his arms. “I’ve been trying for a year, and she still won’t even see me. The only reason she makes my suits is because she can fit them to your body.”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Andrew says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Where is this Emerson, by the way?”
“He’s probably not real,” Charlie interjects. The problem with these two is they never let him get a damn word in. “Remember when he was five and told us his best friend was a mermaid?”
“To be fair, he did watch The Little Mermaid a lot,” Andrew points out. “I think he had a crush on Ariel.”
“No I didn’t,” Jason lies, unsure how he can always feel like a little kid around them.
“My money is still on Emerson being fake,” Charlie continues, like Jason didn’t say anything. “I bet our baby here just needed a new suit because he split his old one with his thick thighs and?—”
“Emerson isn’t imaginary,” Jason all but yells, having the wherewithal to blush when a family walking by them stares. He can’t believe he’s got to deal with both of them. Just Andrew was fine. Andrew is predictable and easy, at least alone. With Charlie, he’s feistier, and then there’s Charlie himself, who is a wildcard. Jason has no idea if his sometimes charming, other times brusque, personality will be off putting to Emerson.
“You don’t both need to stay you know,” Jason points out.
“See, imaginary,” Charlie says. “He’s trying to get rid of us.”
“Of course he’s real,” Jason gapes.
“Who’s real?” Emerson asks.
Jason spins to find Emerson at his back, delicate fingers curled around his freshly made drink. He lifts it, taking a slow sip. Judging by the happy taps of his fingers against the side of his cup it must be correct this time.
“You,” Jason answers quietly, unsure why he can’t take his eyes off the droplet of chai latte stuck on the corner of Emerson’s mouth.
