Wasted Words

by Staci Hart

  Darryl sighed. “I can’t imagine why he’d be so fucking stupid. I mean, I’d never put my career on the line like that.”

  “I know it feels that way right now, but it’s different in the NFL. College ball is more pure in that way — it’s about the game, that’s it. But when you go pro, it’s about more than the game. It’s money, women, status. Fame. It’s a lifestyle, but you can decide how you let it affect you. Are you going to be a pro baller who blows all his money on a yacht and a penthouse? Or are you going to set yourself up for a future after your career?”

  “Kinda like you did?”

  “Yeah, kinda. My dad always told me there’s no such thing as a sure thing, so I never slacked off in school. I wanted a solid Plan B, even if I didn’t think I’d ever need it, and if I hadn’t, getting hurt would have been an even bigger deal. I wouldn’t have had a single prospect. That’s part of the reason I wanted to go into this field. To help players with their careers. To protect them and guide them. It’s not for the money.”

  “Not that the money hurts.” I could hear him smiling on the other end of the line.

  I chuckled. “No, it doesn’t hurt one bit. But I’m not trying to make money off you, not in the ways some of those other guys try to.”

  “It’s crazy, man. Most everybody is smart enough not to talk about it, but I know for a fact these agents are courting some of them, hard.”

  “How about you? Any other offers?” My stomach tightened, though my voice gave nothing away.

  “Nothing official, you know. One even offered my mom a plane ticket home to see her family, but I told him no. I told Mom no. I’ll fly her there myself when I get a contract.”

  I smiled. “Hell yeah, you will. I’ll be out there for homecoming and we can hang. I’ve gotten permission to be on the field for the game with you and Dad, and maybe we can work out on Sunday.”

  “For sure, man. Good luck with Pharaoh and all that mess.”

  “Thanks. Tell my pop I said he’s looking old today.”

  Darryl laughed. “Right, so he’ll torture me with burpees in full pads? Psh. You’re on your own.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon, man.”

  “Take it easy, Tyler.”

  I hung up the phone and it immediately rang. Cathy’s voice was on the other end.

  “Nike’s on the phone for you, Tyler.”

  I sighed. “All right. Send them through.” The phone beeped, and when I heard the connection open, I said, “This is Tyler Knight.”

  “Mr. Knight, this is Adrienne Christie, senior rep at Nike. I was just returning your call regarding Pharaoh Carson. I assume you have a good excuse for your player?”

  “Depends. Is ‘stupid’ a valid excuse?”

  She laughed. “Not really, Mr. Knight. Nike’s not generally in the habit of sponsoring criminals who assault police officers. Unless there’s some mistaking what’s happened, the likelihood of Mr. Carson retaining his contract with us is very slim.”

  Worry shot through me at the edge to her words, but I kept my cool and answered confidently, “We’ll know more soon. I’d just ask that you wait until some progress has been made to make a decision on what to do with him.”

  She paused for a breath. “All right. I’d like to set up a meeting on Monday with Mr. Jones to discuss the issue. Is that enough time?”

  “That’s fair. I appreciate your understanding.” Jack walked in, and I held up a finger. “Thanks, Ms. Christie.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll have my assistant get in touch to set up a time. Have a good day.” The line clicked, ending the call.

  I let out a breath and hung the phone back on the cradle.

  Jack leaned on the doorframe. “Ms. Christie? As in Adrienne Christie? From Nike?”

  “Yeah. She’s giving us through the weekend to figure out what to do with Pharaoh.”

  He smirked. “You haven’t met her, have you?”

  I shook my head. “She’s not the rep I usually deal with.”

  “No, she’s a senior rep, only handles the big stuff. She’s not much older than you, but she’s something else, let me tell you. Talk about a saleswoman. The woman’s a shark.” He shook his head and sighed. “Well, I’ve got to fly to Atlanta. I’m leaving in an hour so I can be there when he gets sprung. Need you to hold down the fort while I’m gone, but I should be back by Monday in time to meet Adrienne. Think you can handle it?”

  “Without a doubt, Jack.”

  “Thanks, kid. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.”

  “Good luck. Pretty sure Cathy has a bottle of Makers to send you off with.”

  He turned to leave. “God bless that wonderful woman. Remind me to give her a raise.”

  I packed up and left a little while later, heading toward the gym in the dusk. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer, but the weather was so great after the blazing summer that I found myself refreshed as I made my way toward the subway station.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a photo of my sister in a pair of bunny ears, nibbling on a carrot.

  “Hey, Meg,” I answered, smiling.

  “Hey. You busy?”

  “Nah, just got off work. What’s up?” I stepped off the curb and crossed the street, deciding then to walk the mile and a half home.

  “Just wanted to chat.”

  “I’ll be home in a little more than a week, you know.”

  “I know, but still. Plus, you’ll be busy and so will I. It’s homecoming, remember?”

  I chuffed. “So you’ll be busy drinking?”

  “I’m in a sorority. Of course I’ll be busy drinking. How was work?”

  I sighed. “Busy. Pharaoh Carson got himself arrested, and Jack and I were busy putting out fires all day. But all’s well — I’m on my way to the gym before heading home to get ready for singles night at Cam’s bar.”

  “What’s the theme?”

  “Comic book cosplay.”

  “Ooooh. I love getting dressed up. Who are you going as?”

  “Captain America.”

  She busted out laughing. “That had to be Cam’s idea.”

  I smirked. “Yeah, it was.”

  “Genius. You look the part. Is she on a mission to match you up with somebody, or are you going to troll for chicks?”

  “Neither, just going to hang out.”

  She sighed. “It’s been a year since Jessica. You’ve got to get back on the horse. Can’t let a slag like her ruin you like that, Tyler.”

  “She didn’t,” I said simply as I stuffed my free hand in my pocket. “This isn’t about Jess.”

  “Well, then what’s it about? You haven’t dated anyone since.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve been on dates.”

  “Right, but you haven’t dated anyone.”

  I came to stop at a corner and watched the light, struggling to find the words. “I dunno, Meg. I haven’t found anyone I’m interested in enough to go for, I guess. I’m not interested in investing any more of myself into someone until I’m sure about their intentions.”

  “So it is Jessica’s fault.”

  My face was flat. “Would it make you feel better if I admitted she was one of many reasons?” The light changed, and I stepped off the sidewalk and into the street.

  “Yes, it would. Thank you.”

  I snickered. “I’ll date when I’m ready. How about you?”

  “No one serious. I’m just too busy to date between the sorority and being a senior. But Jamie and Grace both got asked to homecoming.”

  “They’re too young to go to homecoming with boys.”

  “They’re sixteen and eighteen, Tyler.”

  “Like I said, too young. Now tell me who I have to kill.”

  She laughed. “Oliver Wilson and Jesse Crawford.”

  I sighed. “Well, at least I know their families, which means I know where they live.”

  “I miss you,” she said. “Promise you’ll come out at least once with me.”
<
br />   “No promises.”

  She groaned. “Come on. You’re so boring now that you’re a grown up.”

  “I know,” I said with a chuckle. “You’re next.”

  “Never. Maybe I’ll come to New York and use my Lit degree to work at Cam’s bar.”

  “Hey, it’s not a bad gig.”

  “Anything to get out of Lincoln.”

  “Except you’ll miss it,” I added. “Everybody misses it. New York is lonely sometimes.”

  “Well, luckily Mom and Dad have all those extra bedrooms for me when I come visit.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you too long, I just wanted to say hi. Have fun tonight, and try to avoid fighting with Iron Man. See if you can’t find a pretty honey to take home, especially if Cam pushes one at you.”

  I smiled. “All right. Oh, and Meg?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss you too.”

  I could hear her smiling on the other end. “Can’t wait to see you. One week!”

  “One week.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Bye, Meg.”

  I hung up the phone and slipped it back in my pocket, thinking about what she’d said. It was true that I hadn’t dated anyone seriously since my breakup with Jessica. And it wasn’t like that wasn’t traumatic on its own. When I showed up on Cam’s doorstep, I didn’t have much more than a suitcase to my name. To be with someone, to live with someone who you thought you loved and who loved you, only to have them leave you for faults that you believed were strengths, was disorienting to say the least.

  I was too nice. Too good. Boring. I went to all the clubs and parties with her even though I didn’t want to. I played her game, but it wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t pretend to be interested in what she was interested in any more than she could. I’d always known she and I weren’t meant for forever. But getting dumped like that, for those reasons? It was a dick punch that I wasn’t prepared for.

  But maybe Meg was right. Maybe I should put in a little more effort to find someone to be with, really be with. Cam’s was the first face I saw when I considered my options, and I wished it were possible between us for the first time in earnest. The thought surprised me, but when I considered it, she was at the top of the list.

  But Cam wasn’t interested in me, so I pushed away the idle imaginings of me kissing her or holding her and locked them up tight.

  We were friends. That was all there was to it, and the fact wasn’t bound to change any time soon.

  PETER FREAKING PARKER

  Cam

  THE DAY WAS LONG AND full of paper cuts, though the taco break was the ideal reset before switching gears into singles night. Nothing said ‘Let’s do this’ like carnitas and avocado.

  Everyone was in good spirits by the time inventory was finished, and most of the staff went home to get ready for the party that night. One of the earliest concepts for the bar was a singles night once a week, an event I gladly took on. Each had a literary theme, and I had so many planned, we’d be set for a couple of years. Like Alice in Wonderland, dystopian, fairy tale, zombies, anime, Victorian, time travel … the list just went on and on. Some were cosplay. Some were almost like a book club, where everyone would be encouraged to read something, with bonus points for a prize if you did. And there was always trivia — we’d purchased special tablets designed for bars that ran trivia games — and I had ways of splitting people up so they’d meet as many singles as possible.

  So far, they’d all been a success, but tonight might top them all. Everybody loves a good costume party, and when you mix it up with comics? It’s like a dream come true. For me, at least.

  By seven, we had all changed into our costumes. Bayleigh was dressed, as planned, as Gwen Stacy, in a lab coat over a pencil skirt and tight top, with a black headband on and shaggy bangs. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as she cut lemons on the bar to prep backups for the garnishes. Greg wore a Spiderman costume, stocking the bar in a skin-tight red suit, cap, everything, muscles bulging. Padding not required.

  I maybe had a small idea of what his plan was when I suggested her costume.

  My closet consisted primarily of flannel, jersey, and costumes, and I’d settled on Rogue — auburn wig with a white streak, black skinnies, a yellow and green tank under a brown leather jacket, and combat boots. She was my favorite. I just needed to find a Gambit of my very own, and I’d be all set.

  Bayleigh sliced up the last lemon and looked over the plastic tubs. “Crap, we went through more than this last week. I’d better grab some more.”

  “Think you’ll have hands for a couple of bottles for me?” Greg asked.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  He scanned the platform stacked with bottles. “Grab me a bottle of Grey Goose and a couple bottles of Juarez.”

  She shuddered. “Why anyone would drink well tequila is beyond me.”

  He snickered. “That’s how you end up waking up in a stranger’s bathtub.”

  Bayleigh giggled and trotted off, and I moved to stand next to Greg, lining up shot glasses. “So funny that you guys match tonight. Did you plan that?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “No.” I could hear him smiling from under his mask. “Most girls would pick Mary Jane, but I always preferred Gwen. She was the sweet one — Mary Jane at the time was kind of shallow, but Gwen … she was the good girl.”

  I pursed my lips, trying not to smile.

  “Plus,” he said as he arranged liquor bottles in the order he wanted, “I have respect for girls who wear costumes that aren’t all spandex and boobs. There really is a sad lack of costumes for chicks that aren’t slutty, and I hate the slutty ones.”

  I raised a brow.

  He chuckled and pulled up his mask. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking. I just hate that it’s the norm for you guys. Like, that you feel obligated to look sexy. Personally, I think it’s sexier when it’s not all legs and cleavage.”

  “Like sexy marshmallow! Or sexy hot dog! Or sexy unicorn!”

  Greg shook his head, smiling. “Last Halloween, I saw a chick dressed up like sexy corn. Corn. She was wasted, running around the bar screaming ‘Shuck it!.’”

  I snorted. “Oh, my God.”

  “That same bar had a costume contest, and the girl who won was just wearing lingerie.”

  My head tilted. “So … sexy … sex machine?”

  “I guess. She walked around all night in heels, fishnets, a corset, and panties.”

  “Original.”

  “So, yeah. I respect a girl who doesn’t think the only way to get a guy is to strut around almost naked, dressed up like a slutty vegetable.”

  “Well, Bayleigh definitely isn’t the slutty vegetable type.”

  He laughed. “No, definitely not. She’s too good for that. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  I smiled. “Me too. Maybe that’ll change sooner than later.”

  He glanced over, smiling again. “Maybe so.”

  Bayleigh rounded the corner with her arms full of lemons and bottles, but three steps in, her shoe caught on the bar mat, and her eyes flew wide as she began to topple over. In one swift motion, Greg stepped in front of her and caught her. She fell into him — his arms were just under hers, which still cradled her loot, and she looked up at him with starry eyes and bated breath.

  My nerd heart fluttered at the sight of Gwen in Spidey’s arms, and I leaned forward, waiting for them to kiss.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking down at her.

  She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Greg stood her up, making sure she was stable before stepping back. “Anytime.”

  He took the bottles from her and moved to the bar, putting his back to us, and Bayleigh and I shared a grin. Her cheeks were still pink as she set down her lemons and smoothed her skirt, smiling down at her hands while she finished cutting the fruit.

  The bar began to fill up not
long after, and by eight-thirty, the place was pumping. Most of our staff turned up to party, even Warren the grump was dressed up like the Green Goblin, which matched his scowl perfectly. Well, everyone was partying except for Ruby, who wasn’t old enough to drink. Instead, she stayed in the front with the bouncer and Jett, passing out tiny capes and masks to people who came without costumes. Jett was set up at the table with her, handing out name tags. Everyone was instructed to write their name, drink of choice, and a book on their to-be-read list. Jett composed a master list, rounded up all the books, and put them on a book cart near the bar. Anyone could buy a book and a drink for the single they had their eye on for fifty percent off at the bar.

  Books and booze. What reader could refuse? None, that’s how many.

  I made my rounds, chatting with our crew and some of our regulars. I found The Reader and Batman — she was dressed up as Kagome from InuYasha, and he wore a kilt and tunic, though with his dark hair, he resembled Roger Wakefield more than Jamie Fraser. But either way, he looked amazing. They both did. She’d dressed up just over excitement from chewing through two books in a day, and he’d come dressed up for her, hoping she would be there.

  See? Satisfying. I told them I wouldn’t at all be opposed if they named their first baby Cameron. Girl or boy, didn’t matter.

  A little while later, I mixed everyone up, splitting them into teams for the trivia games based on their costumes. It was always literary trivia that covered all forms of fiction, including comics and graphic novels, so each team would hopefully have a variety of knowledge to pool from. After an hour of trivia games headed up by me, we turned up the music again, and just as I’d suspected, almost everyone stayed all mixed up with their groups, mingling with strangers well after the game was over.

  I’d just set down my master game pad behind the bar when I looked up to find Tyler walking in.

  Everything stopped for just one long moment.

  We’d taken a different approach to his costume than the spandex route, dressing him up as Steve Rogers in a bomber jacket, cargo pants, and combat boots, with an old-timey military helmet. He wore a Captain America shirt under his jacket, which zipped part of the way, and he carried a shield we’d made him out of a trashcan and spray paint, which turned out pretty badass, I have to say. He was tall — so tall — his smile straight out of a dream or a toothpaste commercial, his jaw made out of stone cut to perfection. He waved at me, and I blinked, smiling as I waved back.