Play by the Rules

by Frey Ortega

  I sent my draft to my tablet, swiped open the app, and then handed it to Dale as he popped yet another roll into his mouth.

  “Alright then,” Dale said. “I trust that this isn’t too far out of what Joe asked for?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “But…it might be a little unprofessional. No, it’s definitely unprofessional. But I hope it’s just unprofessional enough to slide past people’s radars.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” Dale said. “But if this is something truly scandalous, I’m probably going to enjoy it.”

  I took a deep breath. Dale started reading the article, taking bites of sushi as he went. He smiled, and raised his eyebrow, and nodded at some parts as he swiped down the tablet. This was the first time I was doing such a long project for the magazine, considering I used to just write fluff pieces they inserted here or there at their own leisure.

  I popped a piece of vegan sushi into my mouth and blinked. It didn’t taste too bad. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was probably expensive and good for me. I looked over at my table, with my half-finished bag of preservative-laced, artificially-flavored cool ranch chips and one liter bottle of soda.

  I was on the sugar rush highway, and I knew it. The diabetes expressway, or so my mother called it.

  No. I was lying. No one called it that.

  “Can I have a pen and a pad, or something?” Dale suddenly asked me, breaking his silence. I blinked, and nodded.

  “Sure,” I said, immediately going off to find something for Dale to write on. As soon as I handed it to him, he started scribbling something on top that looked something like “JK THOUGHTS” but I was bad at reading things upside-down, and got headaches pretty easily, so I just waited.

  The silence was…kind of uncomfortable, to be sure. But I tried my best to keep it inside.

  After a few moments, Dale finished with the article and popped the last piece of sushi into his mouth.

  “Well?” I asked him. I twiddled my thumbs, feeling my anxiety bubbling.

  “It’s a great article,” Dale said. “There’re some things we can change around a bit but it’s not a big issue. But I don’t see where you did anything that might actually be considered subversive, scandalous, or downright unprofessional?”

  “Well, uh, there’s that byline right at the end?” I leaned in and pointed at it, where I put a cute little message there.

  As of the printing/distribution of this article, Joe Kaminski is no longer single. If he’ll take me back.

  I gave a goofy little grin, and Dale raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Is this some sort of grand gesture you were aiming to do?”

  I blinked and tilted my head. “Well, I mean, short of encrypting a hidden message in the initials of this entire thing, I don’t really know what else I can do. Should I run over there with a boombox declaring my love for him?”

  “That should have already been a given,” Dale said. I could’ve sworn I saw him roll his eyes at me. Dale! This bucket of happiness and optimism actually rolled his eyes at me! “See, this is why I came. I knew something was up the moment you said in the group chat that you’d fucked things up with him. I thought it was even fishier that you declined to say why, and that you were trying to fix it. Since I’m a good friend and terrible at keeping to my own business, and I’m your boss, I’m in the special but delicate position of being able to help you with this.”

  I grinned. “I have to admit that I’m new at this and I don’t know what to do in my situation. It’s not like there’s a gift card you can buy that says “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick and listening to my inner demons instead of just enjoying the moments I spend with you,” unless I’ve been shopping in all the wrong supermarkets and bookstores.”

  “I mean, you probably haven’t been looking enough, but you might find that under the cheating or adulterer section of the greeting card aisle,” Dale muttered.

  I laughed. I actually laughed at one of Dale’s jokes. Dale grinned back at me.

  “Well, the first thing I can tell you is that for mass printing, I don’t think the CEO, let alone our editor-in-chief, is going to be okay with you running something with that kind of casual comment. It’s going to invite more scrutiny from other people in a way that could be detrimental to the company,” Dale said. “You could get obsessed stalkers sending…I don’t know, maybe anthrax to the office? Unlikely, but it could happen. Someone could call in a bomb threat because this is Joe Kaminski we’re talking about. The fact that a paparazzo got a shot of you and him on that date is bound to send tongues wagging already.”

  Well, that just made my eyes widen a bit. I parted my lips to try to speak, and then closed them, like some kind of bobbling fish. I took a deep breath, and then tried once more.

  “Um…I…well…”

  Great. Now I was dumbstruck by the possibility. Dale was just being realistic and telling it like it is, but I didn’t know that things could end up that way.

  Still, it didn’t deter me from what—from who—I wanted. This was just a natural thing. Joe was still in the public eye, even though I didn’t know how long that would last. Whether or not he was going to remain in the public eye wasn’t my issue, it was just something I had to deal with if I wanted to be with him.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “What should I do then?”

  “There’s always the flowers, chocolates, and big declaration of love method from all those happy little romantic comedies,” Dale suggested. “Would that not be a good idea?”

  “I’ve considered that,” I replied. “I think I still might do something like that, but nothing too cheesy.”

  “Why not? If Joe is the type of guy to enjoy a healthy dose of cheesiness, this might be right up his alley,” Dale replied. “And besides, you make a fool of yourself once, and gain a memory to last a lifetime. If you keep it safe, you’ll never know how fun the other thing was.”

  I pondered his words, and smirked. “It just sounds like fodder to post on the internet, to me,” I said. “Especially since every little mistake we make can now forever be found in cyberspace.”

  Dale laughed. “Like I said, memories to last a lifetime for a moment’s embarrassment. And hey, if you do end up staying together forever, wouldn’t it be a beautiful story to tell your children someday?”

  “I’m just looking forward to making sure I have a next date with him. I’m not sure I can look at having babies with Joe just yet,” I replied, even though the idea wasn’t so repulsive to me. It was just too fast, I think.

  “How about you just drop to your knees and beg him to take you back? Barring that, there’s always a sexual favor,” Dale said, wiggling his shoulders back and forth all saucily.

  I rolled my eyes at him and gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, maybe not something that’ll make me seem like I just want him for his body? Because it is a good body, but that’s not why I want him. Well, it’s not the main reason.”

  Dale laughed. “Okay, noted.”

  It took a few moments of thinking. He leaned forward, and brought a hand to his chin, stroking it like some sort of wizened sage. Then his eyes widened. It was like a sudden spark of inspiration in his eyes and when he grinned and jumped up in excitement, he looked so proud of himself.

  “I’ve got it!” He exclaimed. “Why don’t you submit something nice and proper for all the lovely little gay boys and girls to read over at our website and on the magazine, but write a special article just for Joe? It’s not something that can get you in trouble with anyone. I can get a single copy printed out, and you can send it to him via courier before sweeping him off his feet.”

  I pondered his words. That sounded like a good idea. “I could also just appear on his front door when I find out he’s actually home,” I offered. “Talk to him straight up and apologize for how terrible I’ve been.”

  “Or, and I’m just spit-balling here,” Dale started to say, the excitement clear in every little wiggle of his body. “You could wait until one of us ma
kes sure he reads your special article, and then you jump out of the bushes and surprise him? Surprise! You were there the whole time!”

  We were getting somewhere good, but the image of me hiding in some bushes and then jumping out like some kind of predator made me snort in a way I’d never heard myself snort before. “Maybe I shouldn’t hide behind the bushes and get myself arrested because a paranoid neighbor thinks I’m about to shiv Joe Kaminski from behind her petunias?” I said, grinning. “But I think we’re getting somewhere with this. Actually, I think I have enough to get going with this.”

  And I actually did. I had a plan going in my head. No matter how zany or downright insane some of Dale’s ideas had been, they were just crazy enough that I thought it might just work. I just needed to make sure I had everything planned, right down to the very letter.

  “Great,” Dale said. “You think we can finish up the article today, so we can get it to print by this Friday’s edition?”

  I gave a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, of course,” I answered. “And thank you, Dale. I mean it. You’re a great friend.”

  Dale gave me another one of his big smiles. It didn’t look so fake to me. Not anymore.

  “Isn’t that what great bosses are for?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Everything was ready.

  Well, as close to ready as it could be.

  Just like any zany romantic comedy, I enlisted the help of my friends. Rye was the actor, so I told him he was going to give the performance of a lifetime for me as the delivery guy making sure Joe read the article. Dale was going to accompany him, because obviously Joe knew Dale, but he didn’t know Rye. They were both going to make sure Joe was going to sit there and do that, while Chase and I got to doing something special to make sure my grand romantic gesture was going to be received well.

  This was no boombox to the window, but I hoped Joe would like it just the same. I even watched a couple of different romantic comedies with my friends to make sure I got the gist of the grand romantic gesture correctly. I mean, hell, I was a writer on my own, but sometimes I forgot that big expressions of romantic love happened as regularly in the real world as in the world of fiction. I could weave a possible—and maybe even believable—story about how an unlikely pair of people could fall in love within the span of three dates, but I couldn’t realistically say that I experienced it myself.

  It wasn’t that I was jaded about all of this, and it wasn’t even that I was afraid, it was just a case of me being me. I could listen to my heart and follow my whims to the ends of the earth, but I wouldn’t be true to who I was if I did that. Ultimately, I knew that falling for someone in a story was totally different to falling for someone in real life.

  I knew there were people who said that they just trusted their hearts when they fall in love, but for me, there was a sense of having to allow myself to feel this. Being in love, being in a relationship, being with a person—they were all the same. They were all a choice we made. It wasn’t just coincidence. It wasn’t just an act of fate. It was a decision as much as it was an emotion.

  I choose to be here, feeling some type of way for Joe Kaminski. For the first time in a long while, I chose to follow my bliss. I had agency, and I wasn’t letting myself get swept up in my emotions. I wasn’t letting my fear dictate where I was going to go.

  For the first time, I knew for sure that I wanted to be with Joe. I mean, I knew it ever since Joe left my apartment that night—the sadness and bitter remorse basically flashed like a neon sign—but without even batting an eyelash or second-guessing myself, I knew that I wanted to give things a shot with Joe.

  There was just something about what my mother had said, and what Dale had done to help me get here, that finally got through to me. It felt like everything was made clear to me and now I was standing in front of the precipice of something big, and all I had to do now was take a leap.

  And even if I had never been excited for big changes in my life, I was excited for this, even though I knew there was a very real chance that nothing could come from it.

  After all, I may have lost my chance with Joe.

  But I was at peace with that, in a way. I knew I would forever regret it if I didn’t try to win him back, but I also knew that I wouldn’t have been as sad as I would be if I had just wallowed in self-pity.

  I guess that was some kind of growth on its own? I’ve never been one to accept defeat in my professional life, but I suppose it was only now that I managed to apply it to my personal life.

  “Are we good to go?” I asked, looking at Chase who was putting the finishing touches on something he’d designed specifically for this moment.

  It was nice having friends in such creative professions. Chase was just really good at art, and always had been. Now, working as a creative director for an advertising firm, it was a wonder how he had the free time that he did now. Either way, when we were young, he was the one making all of the set pieces for all of the theater club’s productions, which, of course, Rye starred in.

  If my school had accepted scriptwriting, I would have been the writer, probably.

  But now, he was helping me put the finishing touches on the surprise.

  The most interesting thing about what we were doing was the fact that we were actually doing this in the car, with Camille and Ysa in the front seat. But Chase’s hands were delicate and steady, moving with surgeon-like precision.

  Honestly, Camille would have been proud at his steady hands, if she weren’t busy driving the car.

  But all throughout the car ride to Joe’s home, I felt a pit of anxiety in my stomach that I was fighting to keep at bay.

  I could do this. I tapped my fingers against my thigh and looked down at the banner, which Chase was just putting the finishing touches on.

  “Are we there yet?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Ysa replied.

  I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself down once more. Each moment we spent on the road was another moment I spent agonizing over every minuscule aspect of this little plan of mine. Could it really even be considered a plan? What if it backfired?

  No, I thought resolutely to myself. Stop thinking that way. Stop overthinking. Stop agonizing. Just do this.

  As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to calm my nerves. I even cleared my throat and adjusted my clothes a bit.

  A few tense moments of silence went by. I gulped, and peered out the window once more.

  Inside, I was a mess. Although I kept thinking about how easy it would be to just turn back and let my magazine speak for itself, I also thought about how I was doing this with all of my friends’ help. They were all gathered together for the express purpose of helping me out with this, even though I was sure they were all busy and they all had their own issues to deal with.

  I couldn’t disappoint them by not even giving it a try. That was all they wanted of me, after all. They were pooling their effort together to help me get out of my shell.

  And, if nothing else, I couldn’t disappoint them like that.

  Plus, if all went well, Joe and I…well, we could actually be together.

  “You guys almost done? We’re almost there,” Ysa said. “Time to let that thing dry, otherwise we might dribble ink and paint all over his lawn.”

  “What if he’s not home?” Camille asked.

  “He is, otherwise Dale and Rye would have told me,” I said. “The fact that they’re still there and I received a text from Dale is proof enough of it.”

  Camille nodded, and smiled. “Look at you, trying to get Joe back into your life. It’s like you’re a whole other person.”

  I smiled right back at her from the rearview mirror. “It’s not that big of a change, now is it?”

  “Well, whatever you’ve been doing, I say keep doing it,” Camille said. “I like this new, take-charge Emmett.”

  “I’m still going to complain and share too much about my day, you know,” I said.

  “Oh, we know,”
Ysa chimed in. “But at least this time you’ll be providing the answers to your own quandaries.”

  “You’re talking like this is about to be a thing I’m going to do for everything in my life,” I said, smirking. “I think we should take it one step at a time. First, I need to apologize to Joe. Properly this time. Not a terrible little text.”

  “Well, you’re going to have your chance,” Camille said. “Because we’re heading into his cul-de-sac now.”

  The little, pristine, almost-completely Anglo-Saxon neighborhood—with the white women eating salads and the children playing in the street without adult supervision—seemed like it had been untouched and unfazed by time. It was as picturesque as when I last saw it, maybe even more so now that the mothers were wearing more summer clothing. Floral print dresses as far as the eye could see!

  There were sprinklers shooting out little spritzes of water into beautifully manicured lawns, making tiny rainbows underneath the sunlight. It was still very much like a little slice of the American dream, and so contrary to what I saw in the big cities. Suburbia was just its own thing, wasn’t it?

  And when we got to Joe’s driveway, I could clearly see him with the magazine in his hand, reading through it with a bemused expression as Dale and Rye stood in front of him. He was wearing a robe and a pair of slippers, and with his disheveled hair it looked as though he had just woken up when Dale and Rye had bothered him enough to start reading. It seemed almost as if they had held him up at gunpoint, telling him that he needed to read the article right then and there, as soon as he could.

  There was a smile on his face. I figured that was a good sign.

  As soon as I rolled up to his front porch, Ysa stood up and tapped on her phone, which was connected to a pair of small speakers. A soft, instrumental love song began to play. I tried to pick the best one I could, one that wouldn’t anger the neighbors, and softly a piano melody began to play aloud.