Chapter 3 Playing the Role
By the time I reached Uncle Charlie's bedroom, my mind had already made a decision.
As tempting as it was to shake things up immediately—drop some life-altering truth bombs, expose sitcom logic for the circus act it was—I knew better.
Genius or not, I was still a kid in their eyes. And a kid with too much insight? That raised questions. No, if I wanted to steer this life in my favor, I had to play it smart. I had to follow the storyline… at least for now.
Which meant waking up Uncle Charlie.
His room was dark, the air thick with the scent of whiskey, expensive cologne, and regret. He was sprawled across the bed like a crime scene, his sheets barely covering him. A discarded high heel lay near the foot of the bed, a silent witness to last night's poor decisions.
I stepped closer.
"Uncle Charlie."
Nothing.
I raised my voice. "Uncle Charlie, wake up."
A groan. No movement.
I nudged his shoulder. "Mom and Dad are fighting downstairs."
Still nothing.
I leaned in. "Alan says you owe him money."
That did it.
Charlie flinched, mumbling something incoherent before rolling over. "Tell your dad I'm dead."
I grinned. "I'll let him know at the funeral."
Charlie sighed, finally forcing himself upright. His sunglasses were already in his hand before his eyes even opened, like muscle memory. He slid them on, rubbing his face.
"…You look different," he muttered.
I shrugged. "Maybe you're still drunk."
He seemed to accept that answer because he didn't press further. Instead, he stood with the slow, careful movements of a man who had no intention of being awake yet.
"Alright, kid," he grumbled. "Let's get this over with."
A Few Hours Later – The Grocery Store
The supermarket was the last place I thought I'd find myself on my first day in this world, but here I was—standing next to Charlie Harper, walking the aisles of a Malibu Whole Foods, watching him make questionable choices about what counted as groceries.
Charlie grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and tossed it into the cart. Then another.
"…You know you can't survive off alcohol, right?" I asked.
Charlie gave me a sideways glance. "Says who?"
"Science. Common sense. Your liver."
He waved me off. "I'm balancing it out. Watch."
He strolled a few feet down, grabbed a carton of orange juice, and dropped it in the cart. Then looked at me smugly.
"Boom. Balanced diet."
I sighed. This man is held together by liquor and loopholes.
We continued down the aisle, Charlie barely paying attention to anything except avoiding actual groceries. I, on the other hand, was paying attention to everything. The people, the layout, the dynamic of this world.
And that's when I saw her.
Tall. Blonde. Yoga pants. The kind of woman Charlie had built his entire existence around.
She was browsing the produce section, absentmindedly inspecting apples. Charlie hadn't noticed her yet. But I had.
An idea formed in my mind.
Charlie was terrible at relationships. But when it came to picking up women? He was annoyingly successful.
And I was about to make him even better.
I tugged on Charlie's sleeve. "Hey, Uncle Charlie."
He looked down at me. "What?"
I pointed. "Blonde, two o'clock. You like?"
Charlie turned his head slightly, spotting her. He smirked. "Oh, I like."
I nodded. "Cool. Follow my lead."
Before he could protest, I broke away and walked straight toward her.
She barely noticed me until I stopped right in front of her, looking up with wide, innocent eyes.
"Excuse me, miss?" I said, my voice just the right mix of shy and polite.
She looked down, surprised. "Oh! Hi there. What's up?"
I shuffled my feet, glancing away like I was embarrassed. "I, um… I don't usually talk to strangers, but… I was just wondering…" I hesitated, then looked up at her with pure, weaponized adorableness.
"…Would you maybe want to marry my Uncle Charlie?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "Wait—what?"
Charlie, to his credit, didn't miss a beat. He stepped forward, smiling. "Sorry about that. My nephew is still learning about boundaries."
I turned to him. "But, Uncle Charlie, you said you needed someone to help you eat all the frozen waffles in your house."
Charlie coughed to cover a laugh. "Right. Yes. That's… a real problem."
The woman giggled. "Wow, um… that's not a pickup line I've heard before."
Charlie shrugged, effortlessly slipping into his usual charm. "What can I say? I have a great team."
She smiled. "Well, I guess I could help you with those waffles. I'm Lisa."
Charlie shook her hand. "Charlie. And that's my nephew, Jake. He's a terrible wingman."
I grinned. "You're welcome."
Lisa laughed. "Tell you what, Charlie. If you let me finish my shopping without your nephew arranging our wedding, I'll give you my number."
Charlie placed a hand over his heart. "I make no promises, but I'll try."
Lisa winked, then turned back to her cart.
Charlie and I walked away, and as soon as we were out of earshot, he glanced down at me.
"Alright, kid," he said. "That was impressive. Where'd you learn that?"
I shrugged. "I'm just really smart."
Charlie snorted. "Well, keep it up. I could get used to this."
I smirked.
So could I.
As we strolled out of the store, bags in hand, Charlie was in a great mood. And honestly? So was I.
I had just spent the last twenty minutes helping one of the most notorious bachelors on television improve his game. And the best part? It had worked.
Charlie glanced down at me as we loaded the bags into the trunk of his car. "Alright, kid, I gotta know… what made you pull that little stunt back there?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. You're my uncle. Figured I'd help."
He smirked. "Yeah, but that was advanced-level wingmanship. Most kids your age wouldn't even think to do that."
I gave him an innocent look. "I guess I'm just gifted."
Charlie shut the trunk and leaned against the car, studying me through his sunglasses. "You are different."
For a split second, my heart pounded. Had I slipped up? Did he suspect something?
But then he chuckled. "Whatever it is, I like it. Most kids are annoying. You? You might actually be useful."
I grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Charlie slid into the driver's seat, and I hopped into the passenger side. As we pulled onto the road, the Malibu sun shining down on us, I realized something.
For the first time since waking up in this world, I felt good.
I had always liked Charlie Harper as a character. But now? I was bonding with him. And in a weird way, it felt… natural.
The ride home was surprisingly comfortable. Charlie wasn't much for small talk, but he did crank up the radio, humming along to a Rolling Stones song as we cruised down the Pacific Coast Highway.
I watched the ocean roll past, the salty breeze drifting through the open windows.
For a guy who lived on bad decisions, Charlie really knew how to enjoy life.
Eventually, he flicked a glance at me. "So, Jake… any other hidden talents I should know about?"
I smirked. "I guess you'll have to wait and see."
Charlie chuckled. "Alright, mystery kid. Just don't get too smart on me. I like my life simple."
I leaned back, arms behind my head. "Don't worry, Uncle Charlie. I know exactly what I'm doing."
And for the first time in this new life… I actually did.
Back Home
When we pulled into the driveway, the house was still standing—which meant Alan hadn't done anything too stupid in our absence.
Charlie grabbed a couple of bags and nodded toward me. "C'mon, kid. Let's get this over with before your dad freaks out about the lack of vegetables."
I followed him inside, already preparing for whatever sitcom nonsense was waiting for us.
Because as much as I planned to follow the storyline…
I also planned to own it.