Page 12

Talk of the Town

Colt

‘ I f we’re going to pull this off, you’ll need to know the team backwards and forwards, inside out. The Riders are May’s whole thing.’

Jordan Gutierrez-Hawkins hefts her lacrosse stick to point at a photo on the slide deck she’s showing on the lecture hall projector. We’re somewhere in the business building, I think, where she’s taken over one of the biggest auditoriums on campus to walk me through what she’s deemed crucial information for me to know in order to succeed in this fake relationship.

Jordan, with enough personality for a twelve-person team, uses her whole body to gesture avidly as she gives me her rundown. I remember her pretty well from our time at Prosperity. She and May were joined at the hip from the first grade, the earliest we all went to school together because Eagle Rock was too small to have one to itself. By the time we got to high school, I had my group, primarily consisting of the guys from my team, and Jordan and May had theirs, primarily consisting of the girls from their team. A couple of the dudes would try to shoot their shot with the girls’ team, but oftentimes to no avail.

I’m trying to pay attention to what Jordan’s saying, but my brain is still hooked on the ‘fake’ in all these terms – fake relationship, fake boyfriend, fake date nights. Sitting in that restaurant with May, I had to spend the whole dinner forcing down the feeling in my gut that just wanted it all to be real . I craved again that shred of enjoyment she’d shown at the bar that night, but I could see it on her face, and how she’d laid down the law with her voice: this was all business for her.

‘COLT!’ Jordan calls from up on the stage, voice bouncing off the high ceiling of the auditorium, her brow creased in disappointment. ‘Are you listening?’

‘Uh, yeah!’

‘Sure.’ She narrows her eyes in disbelief, but continues with her spiel. ‘We’ll circle back to May shortly. As for me, you’ll get to know me pretty well, considering I’m the only one on this team besides Coach who knows what’s going on. This is—’

‘Wait. Pause.’ I raise a hand. ‘You and Coach orchestrated this thing?’

‘What, you think we wouldn’t?’ Jordan shakes her head. ‘Coach is more than just an authority figure for us, Colt. When we’re not home with our families, she’s Mom. For the record, the two of us had a whole talk about Bradlasco last practice. We can’t tell exactly how May’s feeling about it all, you know she’s hard to get a read on, but she’s letting it fly. For the team, I think, considering she has so much weight on her shoulders after last year.’

I still don’t know the entire story about May’s junior year, but from what Coach told me, I can put some of the pieces together. It’s not the kind of thing you ask to dig deeper about.

Jordan clears her throat for dramatic effect. ‘So. I continue requesting your attention. This is Maddie. Attacker. Miss Bellmare. She spends most of her day in classes, spends some time with us, and whatever time is left is spent doing her duties. Civic title, technically, so not really your traditional beauty queen. She’s a political science major. She has thoughts, and she lives to make them known.’

In similar fashion, Jordan takes me through the Riders’ starting twelve: the midfielders, attackers, defence, and the goalie, Lexi, who frankly terrifies me more than any other member of the team (except maybe May).

‘She’s definitely walking, talking fear,’ Jordan ends triumphantly, wagging her stick at Lexi’s team photo – which is more like a mugshot – complete with a glowering stare. ‘Brianna – quick, pop quiz, who’s Brianna?’

‘I – uh …’ I’m notoriously terrible at pop quizzes, so I wiggle uncomfortably in my seat. ‘Um. Midfield. Hair?’

‘Good. Hair Brianna starts shaking when Lexi asks if she can braid her up for a game.’ Jordan clucks her tongue. ‘That’s what you call bad energy, if you ask me. And there’s your first-string twelve. We’ll start there. Know us well. You’ll travel with us cross-country, probably body some buffets with us, a couple of college dining halls across state lines. You’ll definitely get asked about us in relation to May in interviews. You’ll definitely get asked … about May. Segue.’ She raises an eyebrow, then puckers her lips in thought. ‘Let’s do some more trivia, Colt.’

Oh, no. The mischievous look on Jordan’s face tells me all I need to know about the upcoming trivia I’ll have to endure. I’m literally about to start biting my nails. ‘Um. Sure?’

‘Question!’ She clicks forward in the slide deck, to a giant photo of May with the Riders’ mascot, a comedic-looking horse standing on its hind legs. Even with that thing next to her drawing attention to its googly eyes, May’s stunning grin is what captivates me. She’s a knockout, always has been.

‘May’s favourite colour.’

‘Hot pink.’

‘Wow, cowboy.’ Jordan nods in approval. ‘Bare minimum. May’s horse’s name.’

‘Uh … Rocky?’

‘Okay!’ Jordan taps her lacrosse stick against her palm with a grin. ‘I see you. You got chops. If May could eat only one food for the rest of her life?’

Damn it . I gulp, trying to call back something – anything – from high school. Or even now, honestly. I’d take it. In the end, I come out with, ‘She doesn’t like pasta, does she?’

‘Ugh, Big Time!’ groans Jordan. She throws her hands up in despondency. ‘You were on a roll! And you know the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach, don’t you? What if she asks you to grab a plate from the buffet? What’re you going to get her? Repeat after me, champ. Nashville hot chicken. ’

This monstrosity of a trivia match goes on for another thirty minutes before Jordan finally clicks to a slide of the entire team, leading to a large-font THANK YOU. ‘You did good,’ she says sternly. ‘Hope you took some notes. But you did good.’

‘Thanks.’ I shoot her a grateful smile. Then, I wonder, maybe I could get some context on May’s last year from Jordan. Not reasons. Just context. ‘Jordan … could I ask … everyone seems to mention May’s bad last season. Off-seasons happen, though. It’s not something horrible … right?’

‘You gotta ask May about that, you know.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Is it something I should know?’

‘Well, I think part of the reason she can’t stand the sight of you is because if you’d stayed in Oklahoma …’ Jordan shrugs, her expression one of slight pity. ‘It would one hundred per cent be something you would know.’

But you didn’t stay. The words she doesn’t say are louder than the ones she does.

Savannah slides the breadbasket my way, crossing her eyes. ‘All that’s left is wholegrain, dingus.’

‘Thanks,’ I grumble, but I still take a roll from the basket. It’s fresh, still warm. Wholegrain be damned, I’ll take one of my mom’s homemade rolls in any form. Sav can have her all-purpose flour.

Ma, happy and content with my healthy choice, shoots me a smile. That’s definitely not all she’s keen on, though, and it’s certainly not all Pop’s keen on, judging from how glowing and excited they’ve been since the game. They know as much as the rest of the town – the rest of the state, possibly – and are riding a wave of satisfaction because of it.

‘How’s May?’ asks Ma, setting the salad bowl down on the table as Pop comes in with the steak. How they put this stuff together every night after Ma’s full day of teaching and Pop’s twelve-hour days performing trauma surgery at the hospital, I’ll never know.

‘No practice today.’ I take an aggressive bite of roll to shut myself up before I can say something stupider than that. Fuck . What’s so special about practice? We’re supposed to be in a relationship. How the hell would I not know how she is? Damn it, Colt!

‘He’s so secretive,’ Ma teases, nudging Pop, who swings around from the stove with a skillet in hand and a smirk on his face.

‘You know, Colt,’ says my dad as he serves me my steak, ‘I was the same way when I started dating your mom. Right in this very town, you know. Reluctant, quiet, didn’t wanna admit what was happening between us. Say what you like, but magic happens in Prosperity. It’s a good thing you came back.’

Sav, out of the corner of my eye, rolls hers dramatically. I resist the urge to flip her off. She’s the one who stayed here for college. ‘Colt Bradley, homecoming king,’ she singsongs sarcastically. ‘Ooh, damn. That reminds me. You’re lucky you weren’t here for homecoming. They would have paraded you and your girlfriend around like nobody’s business.’

‘Shut up,’ I mutter with all the energy I can muster.

Savannah and I have always been at odds. It’s kind of a sibling thing, but it’s kind of also a thing that’s made worse by distance, especially during your sister’s formative years. I missed her prom for a New Haven home game, but made it to her graduation – so technically I have been back in Oklahoma since I left – but it all moved so fast. The only reason I didn’t miss that, too, was because I had training in Houston the next day. I flew into Oklahoma City, drove straight to the high school, sat for the ceremony, took a few pictures, and went right back to the airport to catch a tiny domestic flight to Houston. But then I missed her freshman year move-in because I was playing in New York City. I honestly wish May would be as outwardly angry with me as Sav is about the whole skipping-town thing. It would hurt a hell of a lot less than the disappointment.

‘Well, make sure you’re treating her right,’ Ma chides me. She’s using her professor’s voice. ‘Walk her to class. Buy her dinner. Listen to her when she tells you how her day’s been, how she’s feelin’. Bring her around here at some point. We’d love to have her. And for crying out loud, go to her games – that one ought to be easy – but Colt, you left that girl on her own for years . You’re lucky she’s even talking to you. You have a lot of lost time to make up for.’

Sav snorts. ‘If he tried making up for all his lost time, he’d still be doing it by the time he was in the grave.’

‘Savannah,’ sighs Pop with his best tired-parent voice. He’s adapting pretty fast. I’ve only been back for a few weeks, and already our parents have gone from excited to have both kids back home to quickly becoming sick of our bickering.

‘What?’ my sister whines. ‘He’s no exception just ’cause he’s famous .’ She puts on a high-pitched voice for the last word. Ma and Pop exchange a pursed-lipped look. They’re definitely holding back laughter now.

‘I’m trying my best!’ I protest.

There’s a moment of silence before our parents finally lose it, leaning on each other and laughing like they’re still our age, and everything is unserious again. Their infectious energy is one of my favourite things about them, but at that moment, it’s my ma’s advice that rings in my head.

You left that girl on her own for years.