Page 41 of Penalty Shot

Suddenly, the thought of Elise in a fancy red dress creates a log jam in my throat. I take a big gulp of beer so quickly, the fizz goes up my nose. Smooth dinner manners are clearly not my specialty.

“It’s the annual YMCA fundraiser. My mom has helped with the silent auction for years. That’s the big draw.”

“Great. Awesome.” I sound like a dork, fighting a new surge of insecurity and inadequacy. I’m out of my league, having dinner with generous people who serve the community, have exciting careers, and say super-smart shit.

Meanwhile, I’m wondering how hot Elise will look tomorrow when the whole point of the event is charity. I can’t help it,though. The thought of Elise dressed up for a party without me feels like a fish bone in my throat that I’m forced to swallow.

“Can I make a donation?” I ask.

“You don’t have to,” Elise says.

“I want to. I can Venmo money or whatever.”

“You can do that any time. It doesn’t have anything to do with the silent auction,” Woody says with a smirk.

Not helpful, man.

“Although…” Geraldine’s voice lingers. “If you’re serious about helping, event tickets always do well. We don’t have anything that represents the Mavericks. Maybe you can donate tickets to a game?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” I nod.

Elise whines, “Oh, c’mon, Ma!”

“What? He wants to help,” Geraldine says with a smile. “It is for a good cause. You know the YMCA offered the first theater camp Lily and Elise ever attended? They aren’t just for after-school sports, which is what most people think.”

“Count me in. We’re in the playoffs now, so it’ll be worth a lot to some people.”

“What if it’s sold out?” Elise asks. “I don’t want you to call in favors.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. If there aren’t any seats, I can swing tickets to the player family box. They do this sort of thing for charities all the time. How do I get the tickets to you?”

“You should come to the event,” Sienna offers.

“Can he get a seat at our table, then?” Elise asks her mom and then looks at me. “If you want to. I mean, you might be busy.”

“Coach doesn’t want us around town between playoff games, but I’d love to stop by and offer the donation,” I explain regrettably. “I’ll bring the tickets tomorrow night, if you’ll have me.”

Even if I can’t stay, I want to see Elise in her red dress and with her hair up.

“That’s wonderful!” Geraldine says while clapping her hands. “Thank you, Randall.” Her smile is warm.

Maybe I checked at least one box tonight.

Since Elise’s mom is expected to supervise the silent auction and her daughter is her official plus-one, I arranged to meet them at the fundraiser. I’m wearing my best dark blue suit. It’s custom fit and yet, for some reason, it’s tight tonight. Even my skin feels too small.

A gift basket with tickets and Mavericks swag sits snug against one arm. When I give my name to a person wearing a headset outside the hotel ballroom, she flaps her fake lashes.

“Mr. Haughland, we’re so happy to have you. Mrs. Chen asked me to take you to the silent auction table, if you’ll follow me please.”

I nod, my attention snagging wherever there’s a flash of red.

We walk through a ballroom with a jazz band playing in one corner, the ambient music accompanying the sound of clinking glasses and friendly chatter. A table on the far end, guarded by actual freaking security guards, displays the silent auction goods. Some are gift packages as big as a toddler, while others are descriptions propped up by a fancy picture frame.

There’s one that’s a full poster with the backdrop of London. The framed description reads:

Two roundtrip tickets from Columbus, Ohio to London, England

Four-night stay at The Tower Hotel