Page 2

Chapter 2

Most Likely To

Parker

“Okay, Spirit Squad”, Lainey smiles as she leans into the microphone, “We’re here today with a very special guest. He’s two months out from his very first mixed martial arts fight— eek —and he’s sitting down with me for an exclusive interview. Parker Di Rossi, welcome to Most Likely To ”.

From across the bar, my boss Vanessa pauses her paperwork just long enough to roll her eyes. She hired me at Rosebud, the city’s hottest bar, about a year ago, and we’ve been casually hooking up, in a this-time-is-the-last-time kind of way, ever since.

“Thanks for having me”. Truthfully, Lainey and I barely exchanged one word to each other in high school. She was best friends with my then-girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure she hated me. But with my first ever fight coming up and no manager, I’ve gotta hustle for press any way that I can. “Pleasure to be here”.

If you can call Lainey’s podcast, which seems to involve interviewing kids from our old high school about nothing in particular, ‘doing press’.

“We met when you transferred into our high school in sixth grade”, Lainey consults her notes, “What was it like to move schools at that age?”

“I got a buddy assigned to me on my first day”, I trip over the ‘b’ and almost say Brandon, but that feels wrong. I don’t have the right to say his name anymore. “He introduced me to people. Helped me settle in”.

“That was Brandon Carter, right?”

From across the room, Vanessa glances up.

If you don’t know Brandon Carter, chances are you’ve heard of him. And his family. His parents are famous. Notorious, really. Nobody would have pegged me, with blue on my collar and a chip on my shoulder, as his best friend.

The only thing longer than my rap sheet was Brandon’s list of extracurricular activities. “That’s right”.

“Did you see his match yesterday?”

I give a half nod, like my body can’t make up its mind.

I’d had precisely zero interest in watching a college soccer game until I saw that the Wolves were playing, and that Brandon Carter was their star striker. I had almost bolted, but the temptation of seeing him again was too much.

Classic Brandon. Magnetic without even trying.

I guess some things don’t change.

“Now, Spirit Squad: full disclosure. Parker used to date my BFF, so we’re not going to trawl through the ex-files in too much detail today”. I’m acutely aware of Vanessa’s eyes on me.

“Let’s talk about MMA. How’s training going?”

“It’s awesome”, I say, relieved to be back on safer ground, “It’s been a lot of hard grind but now, finally, it’s paying off. I’m excited to get out there and…” Prove everyone wrong, “Show everyone what I can do”.

“Our school had major basketball, football, soccer and hockey programs. Why not one of those?” When I don’t answer, she presses, “What drew you towards martial arts, of all things?”

My fingers lightly grip my seat. I pull my sleeve up to my elbow, revealing the new portrait on the inside of my forearm. Lainey’s eyes widen. “My Dad. He taught me everything I know”.

The ink maxed out my credit card, but it’s the closest I’ll get to having him in the ring with me. And I need him there. We started it together. We finish it together.

“He had a perfect amateur record and was the youngest in the country to win a Gold Ring tournament. There was talk about training for the Olympics”.

“I wouldn’t have thought the Olympics would entertain cage fighting”.

“It was for boxing. MMA came after. But it didn’t work out”.

“What happened?”

“My mom got pregnant. With me”, I add. Lainey laughs like she’s not sure whether I’m kidding. “MMA didn’t pay a lot of money back then”. I leave the rest unsaid. How he sacrificed his dreams to take a dead end job that barely paid minimum wage, let alone medical insurance, just to put a roof over our head.

And that lack of insurance was why he didn’t find out he was sick until it was too late.

Vanessa puts down her pen. Lainey’s still asking questions and I can hear myself answering, even though my voice sounds very far away.

There were whispers at his funeral. Alberto really

coulda been

someone, if only he’d stuck with his training. Everything could have been different . Even at fourteen, I knew how that sentence ended. How everything could have been different if only he hadn’t screwed up and got his girlfriend pregnant .

The guilt and the shame and the grief all burned together inside me, until I realised the only way to make my dad’s life count was to pick up where he left off.

Winning is the only way to make the guilt go away.

“I just don’t see the appeal”. Lainey continues, in a tone that jolts me back to reality, “Mixed martial arts is such a dangerous, well, I don’t even know if you’d call it a sport per se …”

“It’s a sport”, I say. “It’s also an art. Clue’s in the name”.

“I’ll grant you, it’s entertaining”, Lainey laughs, “to a certain demographic . But an art form? Drama is art. Theatre is art. Music is…”

“Martial arts is one of the oldest art forms in the world”, I cut her off. “It teaches self-defence. It teaches discipline. It’s one of the few unifiers that, along with drama, dance and music, and sports, actually brings people together, regardless of their background or social class. It lives outside of politics. That makes it special”.

“You’re obviously very passionate about it”.

I flashback to watching my dad teach classes at the local youth centre. How he held the kids attention in a way that teachers, cops, hell, even their own parents, never could.

“A lot of kids, people you might call a certain demographic ”, I accent my tone just enough for her to colour slightly, “Find a place to belong, thanks to martial arts. Kids that otherwise might end up going down a less than ideal path”.

“Like community college”, Lainey nods sagely.

“Like being groomed into joining a gang”, I hold her gaze, and whatever angle she was pushing evaporates out of her. “Or going to prison”.

“You aren’t the only athlete from our school looking to make it big this year. Beth Albarelli picked up bronze in swimming, and Freddie Dyer and Brandon Carter are both expected to make MLS debuts when they graduate. Do you guys check in with each other? Share tips, offer advice. Like with Brandon, for example?”

I shake my head.

“Really?” Lainey says, surprised. “Nothing?”

My chest begins to tingle. “Parker?” Lainey presses.

“Brandon’s…one of a kind”, I find myself saying. “Someone that I…”

I’m vaguely aware that I’m talking, but the last time I saw him is playing through my mind like a broken movie reel. His face, illuminated by the flash of an exploding firework. My hands, clenched into a fist, wiping the blood from my mouth.

“Wow”, Lainey stares at me, “That was…insightful. That relationship is obviously significant to you”.

Wait, what the hell did I just say?

Just then, all the lights cut out. “Sorry folks”, Vanessa calls through the darkness. “Power cut. Interview’s over for today”.

****

“Parker, this letter is dated five days ago”.

“It was slid under my door this morning”. Lainey’s gone, and so has the fake power-cut Vanessa engineered to get rid of her. We’re in her office, with the door locked. “I guess the Disciplinary Committee don’t believe in email”.

“Do you think they hid it from you?” Vanessa’s the only one who knows what’s been going on with my fraternity. Darwin is President, and Barlow is his right-hand man. There’s no way they’re not involved. “You missed the best part”.

A copy of this letter has been sent to your parents and/or legal guardian.

She raises her eyebrow, lighting a cigarette at the same time. “Do they know anything about your suspension?” I don’t reply. “Of course they don’t”. A beat, then. “I didn’t know you were close with Brandon Carter”.

“I haven’t seen him in forever”. My fingers itch to refresh the sports newsfeed on my phone. There have been tons of headlines about his accident but no real details.

I lay awake replaying it all night. Which is stupid.

Brandon and I barely know each other anymore.

Vanessa sits up, curling one leg under the other. “It’s not a big deal, I just keep checking to see if anything’s been posted online, but”, I toss my phone lightly onto the couch. “Nothing. I don’t even know if I have his number anymore”.

Even as the lie falls out of my mouth, I’m making excuses for it. People change their numbers all the time. Besides, it’s not like he’s called me either. Not once in three years.

“ Do you know which hospital he’s at?”

“Roberta Mercy. He’s probably on his way back home now”. Halfway across the damn country.

“I have some connections. Let me see what I can find out”. She fires off a text, then rolls lazily towards me. “In return for my assistance...” she begins, suggestively.

“Ye-es?” I match her tone, pulling her into my lap. She straddles me, draping her arms comfortably around my bare shoulders.

“I have questions. Three, to be exact. Since your past seems to be a closely guarded secret. Number one”, she continues, before I can object. “What’s Brandon Carter like in person?”

In spite of myself, an image of us joking around together unlocks itself from my internal vault. We were polar opposites. By rights, we never should have been friends. Then maybe things wouldn’t have got so messed up.

“He was popular. Funny. Cocky. He had a sensitive side too, if you knew where to look”. I blink, transporting myself to the backrow of homeroom. He always sat closest to the window. “I think he found some of the press attention difficult to deal with”.

“A sensitive dude-bro with a sense of humour. I can hear the ears of a million Young Adult authors pricking up from here. Did he have a girlfriend?”

“He was focused on soccer”. My lips twitch. “But I think he enjoyed playing the field”.

“Very funny”.

“Thanks. I’m here all week”.

“Why aren’t you friends anymore?”

Before I can respond, her phone chimes.I answer the question in my head.

Brandon was always destined for big things, and the entire world let him know it. Teachers. Coaches. Parents. And then there was me. Nobody was falling over themselves to tell me I could be something too. In some ways, it was liberating when we went our separate ways because the endless comparisons where I came off worse would finally stop.

But that’s not what ended our friendship.

Vanessa scans the text she’s received. “Brandon’s going to be okay”.

Relief floods through me.

“Mild concussion. Bruised ribs. Nothing any self-respecting athlete won’t be bragging about in a few days”. She smiles reassuringly. “But nothing to worry about. He should be discharged tomorrow”.

For a moment, I can’t formulate any coherent thought. Brandon is okay. I can just picture his cocky face raising an eyebrow at me. C’mon, Di Rossi.

Did you really think a little thing like a three-player pileup was going to slow me down?

Vanessa touches my arm, andI snap back to reality. Brandon’s fine. I don’t need to think about him anymore. I’ve got a beautiful woman curled up in my lap. Focus, Di Rossi.

“His team are staying at Prism” , she adds, as I start exploring her neck with my lips. Her skin is warm, and tastes like coconut butter. “My dad mentioned it on our conference call this morning”.

The Prism is a fancy ass hotel in the middle of the city. Her dad owns a dozen all over the country. From what I can tell, Vanessa has a standing reservation in all of them, depending on which city she decides to party in.

We spent a night there once, right after she’d caught her ex-husband with one of the waitresses. It had been her idea. No way I could afford a place like that.

“You remember the night we spent there?” I murmur, slipping a finger between her thighs. “The hot tub. The four-poster bed. Then the hot tub again…”

“When we got caught by room service?” she giggles, then screams as I slip to my knees and gently spread her legs. Seconds later, her nails are digging into my shoulders so hard they draw blood.

What can I say, imaginary hotel sex is hot.

* * * *

One hour later, I’m late for training. Vanessa’s freshening up whilst I haul ass getting dressed. I grab my phone just as it starts ringing. “I’m almost there, I swear”.

“Di Rossi?” It’s Marshall. He’s pretty much the last guy from the fraternity I’m still on speaking terms with. “Listen man, bad news. Our venue for the party cancelled”.

“Too bad”. I was pretty sure I was off the invite-list anyway. Vanessa slips back into the room and raises her eyebrows. Party’s off , I mouth, though I highly doubt a sexy ass businesswoman cares how a bunch of frat boys celebrate the end of the semester.

“I was hoping that it’d be a good opportunity for you to reconnect with the boys”, Marshall trails off awkwardly. “Before we all leave for the summer”.

“Who says I want to reconnect with the boys?” I say, ignoring the look from Vanessa. He’s trying, Parker. I hear voices in the background, then Marshall coughs. “Darwin won’t be there. He already left for his parent’s place in Vermont”.

“Have your party at Rosebud”, Vanessa cuts in.

“Really?” Marshall says, down the phone.

“ Really ?” I echo, incredulously.

“Really”, she says firmly, taking the phone from me, “We’d be delighted to host you this evening. Parker can set you up on the guest list. And if he plays his cards right, he can finish early and join you. To reconnect”, she adds meaningfully.

Marshall rings off. Vanessa turns to me, and before she even opens her mouth, I know what her third question is going to be.

“Why don’t you just tell everyone what really happened that night?”