Page 27 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)
JUNE
THE DETERGENT APOLOGY
Saying he was sorry was one thing, but I couldn’t believe how easily Montoya wanted to forgive Bear.
Bear needed to actually apologize, not a two-minute phone call from a party.
Sunday morning, I pushed open his door to see Bear lying on his bed.
He wasn’t playing one of his alien-shooting games, he was just tossing a folded-up baseball cap in the air.
“I’m not in the mood,” he muttered.
“What do you have today?”
“Why?”
“You don’t have gym slots, no practice, no classes, what’s the plan?”
He shrugged, moody. “Just this.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Why?”
I left his room for the front door, propping it open. “Welcome in, boys!”
Hockey players shuffled inside, trash bags or hampers in their arms, overfilled with laundry. “Thanks, Bear!” Buttons shouted, dropping his basket.
“Nope, we’re going down together.” I shook my head. “We’ll follow him downstairs.”
Bear walked out. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Since you lost the bet, you agreed to wash my clothes. I offered the bargain to the team. As long as they have their stuff together with detergent, you’ll spend the day doing laundry.”
“ What?! ”
“You lost the bet, Forty .”
Bear’s ears turned pink. “I?—”
“You lost the bet.”
“You don’t really expect me to?—”
“You. Lost. The. Bet. ”
Some of his teammates elbowed each other, asking Bear what the bet was about, while he glared. Whatever. I won the bet fair and square, and as much as Montoya tried to plead he didn’t need clean laundry, I put him at the front of the line, with his bright green basket.
I clapped my hands. “Everybody downstairs!”
“Is this a prank?” Bear demanded while we marched to the laundry room. It was quiet during the summer, everything untouched. I sat up on one of the washing machines to supervise.
“If I bought you a maid costume, would you wear it?” I wondered.
Bear swore under his breath before tossing in items from Fridge’s hampers.
“Those are separated for a reason, Bear. Lights and darks.”
His look was deadly, but he took them out of the washing machine.
“Can I do homework here?” Montoya asked.
Bear tried to say no, but I told him to go for it. Some of the guys broke out boxes of crackers and chips, sitting on the washing machines too, and music played from somebody’s phone, everybody vibing out while Bear cursed over his chores.
“This is bullshit.”
“You’re learning how to do laundry, and this is a way better apology to Montoya?—”
“I said sorry?—”
“Saying things and doing things have a different impact. A shitty apology from a party won’t cut it.” Watching him fumble with the washing machine was too much. I sighed. “I’m only showing you how to do this once.”
“You didn’t put in enough detergent?—”
“Do you see the line on the cup? This is where you’re supposed to go.”
“I’m not touching you—” Elijah called from the corner, poking at a senior player. “I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you?—”
Fridge held up a deck. “Anyone want to play cards?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll play.”
“I’ll play.”
“Deal me in.”
“Goddammit.” Bear shoved more clothes in the next washing machine. “Charlie, your clothes smell like ass!”
“That’s the smell of a man! ”
Bear straightened out jeans, dug in pockets, and measured out detergent while I made sure he wasn’t ruining anyone’s laundry. At the last one, Bear pressed the button for a heavy load before cheers erupted from his team. He scowled over his shoulder, eliciting laughter.
“I have more but the machines are busy,” he complained.
“You’ll have to wait.” I held up my phone for everybody to see. “Who wants pizza?”
“You can’t feed a hockey team,” Fridge warned. “Your life’s savings will collapse.”
“It’s the best part of having rich parents. I have a credit card for food.” I shrugged. “As long as I don’t go overboard, my mom won’t call. What do we want?”
The guys clamored to put in their order while Bear pulled out wet clothes for the dryer. “Your parents gave you an entire credit card for food?”
“Groceries and gas. The G&G card.”
I could feel his questions brimming. It was so weird. His family knew me, his neighbors knew me, his brother certainly knew me, and I knew so much about Bear already… Sometimes I forgot he didn’t know me at all.
“Do you know who Freddie Basil is? Gorham Lewis?”
Bear frowned. “Gorham?”
“Freddie Basil is my dad, he’s running for mayor in November, and the Basils are rich -rich. Gorham Lewis was my mom’s dad, he was a senator for Delaware for a long time.”
“That explains the G&G card.”
“It was this or secret service. I chose wisely.”
“What, you’re a small-time Kennedy? One day you’ll be campaigning for office?”
“No, I don’t want to be the main face. My dream was to be the first lady.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, thinking about the vision boards I made with Xavier. “Two kids by twenty-four, becoming the perfect, electable nuclear family, help write the speeches, run the campaigns?—”
“Your goal is to be somebody’s wife? ”
Suddenly, I remembered who I was talking to. Why would I tell Bear any of this?
“Fuck you,” I retorted.
“Your big dream is to decorate the White House for Christmas?”
“Yours is concussions on the ice and that stops when you’re thirty.”
“Yours also stops when you’re thirty and your husband finds an intern in heels.”
I clapped my hands. “Boys, get your blankets from upstairs, Bear’s washing linens too.”
The hockey players perked up from the card games, homework, and loud conversations to head to their dorms.
“Goddammit,” Bear swore.
Denali stopped by to clap Bear on the back. “You’re a team player, Bear.”
“Suck a dick, Denali.”
Now, this was an apology. I grinned, cracking open my textbook for another class I shouldn’t have failed. I didn’t make it to the second page before Bear returned, his eyebrows furrowed.
“June?”
“What?”
“It’s been a shitty week. I’m not trying to be an asshole.” He took a deep breath. “I want to figure you out because I don’t understand.”
“Don’t…?”
“Why do you want the house? Your parents are loaded. They could buy you an apartment.”
“Because that’s my house . I threw the best parties there, I put that garden together by hand, it’s the place my friends and I hung out at for years. I earned that house.”
“June, you didn’t earn that house.”
I froze. “What?”
“No one gets a house in their freshman year.”
“I worked my ass off for this school. The housing department, the homecoming committee, the sustainability department, the Romans wouldn’t look the same without me?—”
“I’m sure you worked hard but…” Bear started up the washing machine. “You had money and time to do it. There were other freshmen who worked hard too. Did you really get a house for that stuff or because you’re June Basil?”
I stared, stunned. “Did…did Xavier say that?”
“Does it matter? Does that make it not true?”
I wanted to tell him everything I did for Xavier, his résumés for years, ran his events, bought every piece of furniture in his office, but the words stalled on my tongue.
Was that why Xavier stayed with me?
I was a means to an end? Was our relationship transaction-based, and I never caught on? I swallowed but the knot in my throat stopped me.
“June?” Bear’s voice softened. “The gangbang shit is fake.”
My eyes dropped to my textbook. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t steal any receipts from the housing department.”
“Why would I? I bought that stuff on my credit card.”
“You didn’t smash the Clemenza.”
I nodded slowly.
He leaned closer, his eyes on me. “But you know who did.”
I traced my finger along the textbook’s pages.
“Why don’t you tell him?” he urged. “I don’t get you. Why would you go through all of this, why don’t you rip the band-aid off?”
Because my friends did the stupidest thing when they wrecked Xavier’s car, but they did it because they love me.
Even if I didn’t see them often after I holed myself up, those Romans players were still my friends.
My family. We spent the last few years together and soon, we’d be traveling to Austin on a trip to mark their beginning for summer training.
If I told Xavier, I had no doubt he’d bring it to the university. I didn’t want to think about what my ex would do to them.
“I have no idea if Xavier would even stop,” I told him. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not giving up my friends. If he wants the names, tell him to hold his breath until he gets them.”