“What happens if a client wants a different kind of service?” George asked.
I rolled my eyes, chuckling at the round of “Oh, George.”
“Each client would have to sign a disclaimer,” Tommy reported with a frown. “That has to be a strict rule.”
“Of course. It would be a transparent operation. Completely valid. Look, the original idea was to curate once-in-a-lifetime experiences and write about them. Most of us don’t have time to jump off cliffs, swim with dolphins, or seduce Chris Pine. Instead of seeking out the stories, we have clients come to us.” I aimed for a patient tone, but I was feeling slightly flustered that they didn’t immediately agree that my plan was clever.
I lifted my fingers from my iPad and glanced around the table. Tommy, Asher, and Holden seemed pensive but not entirely adverse to the idea. Cody and George looked suspicious.
“We’d need a name. What would we call ourselves? How about The Academic Den of Vampiric Despots?” George suggested, giving me a thorough once-over. “The Demon Den, Werewolves Assistance Lair….I can keep going.”
“Let’s keep it simple. Academic Pros?” I suggested.
George shrugged. “That’s not very sexy.”
“This is not about sex. It’s about—” I paused abruptly and took a deep breath, then added, “Other things. We can come up with a sexy club name for the six of us though. Something to do with the project. Any ideas?”
“What’s sexy?” Tommy pondered, tapping his finger on his stubbled chin. “Cosplay porn.”
“Nice one.” George nodded in approval. “Strip clubs are hot. That’s it! We’ll call ourselves the Strip Club Assistants, baby.”
“Shh. Lower your voice,” I chided. “We are not a strip club.”
“Let’s go with Script Club,” he suggested. “If you say it fast enough or slur your words, it sounds hot. If you enunciate, it sounds official.”
I rolled my eyes. “George…”
“Come on, it’s too perfect. We can talk about whose turn it is to vacuum or buy toilet paper or Topher’s podcast business or whatever…and call it a meeting of the Script Club.” George spread his arms, plastering his hand against my chest. “Thoughts?”
“Amusing and ironic. Nicely done, George,” Holden commented in a serious tone.
“If this is an actual club, we probably need to appoint a secretary.” Asher raised his hand. “I volunteer.”
“You’ll have to type the minutes and email them to us,” Tommy insisted. “You know, I like the idea of having a cooking component to our club. What if we chose one night a week to share recipes? A new dish each time.”
I barely stifled a groan when a chorus of oohs and ahhs buzzed around the table. Apparently, I’d just organized a club that would encourage my new housemates to stay home. Great.
Conversation drifted to moving-day logistics, then back to Cody’s East Coast rock and roll tour. When our group dispersed, Holden, Tommy, and Asher said their good-byes first. George stood to join them but waved them on at the last second and sat again.
“What’s going on with you?” he inquired, wrinkling his forehead in concern.
“Nothing. Why?”
I smiled nonchalantly as I attempted to slide my iPad into my bag with one hand while sucking on my straw. Of course, the device snagged on the outer stitching, and all heck broke loose. I dropped my cup on the table to save my iPad. I let out an undignified squeal when it slipped through my fingers and careened toward the floor.
Cody grabbed it at the last second, and George righted my drink before it toppled over.
“Here you go.” Cody tucked the iPad into my bag and set his hand over mine. “Topher…what is it?”
“My life is a mess.”
George shared a look with Cody and leaned forward. “What happened?”
“My internship fell through,” I whispered. “The department lost part of their budget, which unfortunately, included me. Dr. Jenkins is expecting subsidy by November or December. He told me to hang tight and be patient. I don’t have a choice. I’ll try to find something new in between, but it won’t be easy. Paid internships at JPL don’t grow on trees.”
“Oh. That sucks.” George sighed. “Can’t your parents do anything?”
“Not really. It’s a funding issue. They told me to concentrate on my studies and spend time with my grandmother. Not that I mind doing that, but I need to make some money.”
Cody frowned. “Don’t you have grant money?”
“Yes, but not much. And a few personal problems have crept up recently.” I closed my eyes briefly. “My grandfather fell a couple of weeks ago. He’s at a rehab clinic, and now they’re looking into a long-term living situation. Gran moved into my childhood bedroom until it gets sorted out. My parents can’t support me and deal with my grandparents and their own careers. And I don’t want them to. I’ve got this. But…I don’t. Thus, the job idea.”
“If you want a tutoring job, you should go to student services. They’ll send you a few undergrads right away, and you won’t have to set up your own business. Which is a fine idea, but do you really want all that hassle now?” Cody asked.