“B, slow your roll,” I said.
“But soccer—”
“I love soccer.” I shifted my weight off a stone that was digging into my palm and sent it with a flick of my wrist into the water below. “But I’m not going pro. I’m not good enough and even if I was, that’s not want I want to do with my life. I play in college because I can. Because I love the sport, and I love being a part of a team.” I shrugged. “But it’s not my life or my future.” I grinned at her. “I can’t kiss soccer, or marry soccer, and soccer sure as hell doesn’t give me hand jobs on Ferris wheels.”
Her head flew back as she boomed a laugh into the sky. Somewhere behind us, some animal skittered up a tree at the sound of her laughter. Bianca wiped her eyes. “I swear, you always know what to say to make me laugh and just…forget it all. The worries, the fear. All of it.”
I reached for her, and drew her back down on my chest so we were once again lying on the ledge, legs tangled. We stayed like that, a perfect peaceful moment, until we were forced to get up and get back to a reality neither of us wanted to face.
Fifteen
Permanent Maiming
To be blunt, the week sucked. After I dropped Bianca off at her house (from a few doors down so Coach didn’t see me), she’d been under lock and key with regular police patrols outside the house. We texted, and Facetimed, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, hell even smell her. I was a freak.
I threw myself into classes and practice. With the championship game on Saturday, I needed to focus. Coach was clearly distracted by what was going on with Bianca. His temper was even shorter than normal, which meant he tortured us. I’d never sprinted in practice so much in my life.
By Friday, he seemed to take pity on us so practice was short. Or maybe he finally got it through his skull that killing us before the game wouldn’t win any medals.
“Saint!” He hollered at me after practice as I was taking off my cleats and squirting water in my mouth from my water bottle. “Need to speak with you.”
I stretched out my calves as Dre clapped me on the back, sweat dripping off his chin. “See you back at the house? We’re going to carb-load from Moretti’s.”
Ah, yes. Spaghetti and meatballs. I could taste it now. “Order me my usual.”
“You got it. Good luck with Coach.”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
I slipped my feet into my Adidas slides and shuffled over to where Coach was frowning at his tattered notebook. He acted like he wrote plays and shit in there, but I was convinced it was just pages after pages about ways to off every one of us. “You called, Coach?”
He glanced up at me, and for a moment, I saw the weight of the world on his shoulders. His typical scowl was gone, and in its place was exhaustion. His lips were thinned, and dark circles were etched under his eyes. Knowing he had a girlfriend made me look at him like he was actually human, and Bianca had said he was out of his mind with worry for her well-being. I figured he’d cover up and began to glare and bark at me, but instead he sank down on the bench and patted the space next to him. “Sit.”
I slowly sank down, part of me worried this was a ploy to catch me off guard and he was going to pull a garrote out of his pocket and choke me. But instead he sighed, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he opened them and stared across the practice field. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“Uh good.”
“Your position?”
“I’m more comfortable, for sure. Castle and I communicate well.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and nodded. “You gotta sell it. Confuse them and draw them off their marks. When you and Castle get open, you’re deadly.”
I nearly fell off the bench. Did he just… compliment me? Fucking shock of the damn century. I cleared my throat. “Yes, Coach.”
He didn’t speak, and didn’t dismiss me, so I just sat there and drank my water and stared off into space. His next words did, in fact, make me fall off the bench. “I know you’re seeing Bianca.”
I caught myself before my ass hit the grass, and I hauled myself back up into my seat. “Uh…”
He waved a hand. “Relax, Saint. I’m not going to murder you.”
“Zero murdering is great, but that doesn’t rule out permanent maiming,” I muttered.
He laughed. He actually fucking laughed, which was something I didn’t think Coach could do. The sound was a little rusty and he ended it on a cough, but it was still a laugh. “She said you were funny.” I rubbed my hands together and kept my mouth shut. “I’m not going to maim you either.”
“Cool,” I breathed.
“But you need to have realistic expectations. She’s a model. Her job is in New York. When this threat is over, she’ll go back.”
My head spun, and my voice was a croak when I said, “She told me she’s finished modeling.”
“She says that now, but when this current threat is eliminated, she will see that’s where she belongs. She was always meant for better things.” He turned his head, those dark eyes boring into mine like lasers. “You understand.”
That wasn’t question or even a statement. That was a threat. Don’t hold Bianca back. My lungs burned and I clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. The only thing I could do was nod.
He slapped his hands on the bench on either side of his hips, the sound jolting me. “Good talk. See you tomorrow.” He walked away.
I stared after him for a long while, until the sun began to set and I was sure my food that Dre had ordered had long gone cold.
I’d nodded. I’d just… let Coach have the last word. I’d let him dictate how my future with Bianca would go. And the worst of it was that I couldn’t figure out if I was a coward for not fighting for her with him, or if I was doing the unselfish thing by agreeing Bianca was meant for bigger things than me.
* * *
This game was a bitch.
The guy marking me was a fucking Hulk and I was ready to tear his damn head off if he didn’t stop shoving me when the ref wasn’t looking.
Shouts from the sideline were white noise unless they came from Coach, Dad, or Pop. The latter knew I was close to his boiling point, because he kept shouting, “Keep your head, Lavin.”
Keep my head. I was going to keep my head and Hulk’s if he didn’t stop touching me. He’d even backhanded my junk last play, the dick. “Bring it, pussy,” he said as Dre scooped up the ball on a wide shot and launched it with a vicious overhand in my direction.
Hulk had bulk but not agility, which was my strength, because I was a wiry motherfucker. I got in front of Hulk, settling the ball at my feet and boxing him out as he plastered himself to my back. His stance was wide in an effort to prevent me from turning and running up the field.
I heard Shane shout behind me. “Saint!”
This was a play we practiced, and I could maybe pull it off if Hulk played into my hands. So far, he was. I took a deep breath, hollered, “Castle!” and gave the ball a swift heel kick. I spun around, grinning as the ball went sailing along the grass between Hulk’s legs.
Shane was there, like he was supposed to be. He turned the ball with a quick tap on the top and went straight down the middle. Blowing past Hulk, I raced down the right sideline, keeping my eye on the last defender so I wasn’t offsides.
I didn’t need to talk. Shane knew I’d be there. Right when the last defender went after the ball, Shane kicked it to me, his aim accurate as usual. Hulk’s footsteps were pounding behind me, right on my heels. I caught the ball on the inside of my right foot and sent it ahead of me, lengthening my stride. I was faster than Hulk on a dead sprint, but maybe equal when I had to dribble the ball.
Shane was on the run, and so was Manny on the opposite wing. I sent the ball sailing across the top of the box. Manny rushed in, getting his head on the ball and sending it into the far left corner with a twist of his neck.
The crowd cheered, Hulk called me a pussy again along with a few o
ther choice words, and I high-fived with Manny and Shane.
“We gotta get you a shot,” Shane said as we jogged back to center.
I shook my head. “I’m better at assists. You and Manny can take the glory.”
Shane rolled his eyes at me and then we got back into position.
* * *
Surprise, surprise. I didn’t score a goal. I had a few shots, but it was like my body didn’t want it or something. The ball either sailed over the top post or right into the goalie’s gloved hands. I wasn’t meant to be that guy who got his name in the scorebook.
In the end, we won 4-2. Dre was pissed he’d let two shots in, but then he was always pissed when that happened. He wanted a shut-out every game. Coach’s high expectations of us had nothing on the pressure Dre put on himself.
“Pelé,” Pop said, his arm around me as we walked into Pizzaz. “Proud of you. Kicked ass out there.”
“Thanks for coming up,” I said to him and Dad.
“Like we’d miss the championship,” Dad scoffed. He eyed the pizza buffet like it was one big platter of poison ivy. “I could do without eating here though. I don’t understand why Angelo likes it so much.”
“It’s cheap,” Shane grunted, walking by us to get his pizza.
Dre’s parents were up, as well as Zac’s, so we all sat around at a table together, along with Shane. He didn’t talk much about his parents. I knew his dad was out of the picture and I’d only met his mom once. She came to our banquet at the end of the season every year, but that was it. Someone on the team asked why she never came to games, and Shane shut down faster than a finger snap. So we didn’t ask him questions when he rarely went home. We always dropped hints to him that he could spend holidays with us, and he had taken me up on that more than once for Thanksgiving. Of course, he spent most of it making eyes at my dads.
“Plans tonight?” Dad said, sipping from a bottle of water and eating out of a small dish of raw veggies. He’d asked the manager for a bowl of pizza toppings, which was how he managed some mushrooms, broccoli, spinach, and tomatoes.
“Halloween party,” I said, shoving food in my mouth.
Dad leaned closer. “Keep your watch on you.”
“Of course.”
“How’s Bianca?”
I poked at the crust of my pizza. “Pretty much locked in her house. I bet she’s going crazy.”
Dad’s eyes went soft and sad. “Hopefully it’ll all be over soon.”
I could only wish.
Sixteen
Hello Kitty Gives Me Boners
Halloween in college was an excuse to dress in as little clothes as possible. There, I said it. And it wasn’t just true for girls; it was true for guys too. I’d seen enough Khal Drogo wannabes to instill in me a healthy Game of Thrones aversion.
Dre was dressed up like Michael B. Jordan from Creed, so he wore boxing shoes and shorts but had foregone boxing gloves because he said he needed his fingers free for T&A. For real. I was the unlucky bastard who had to oil his back because he had “to look authentic and sweaty.” Ugh. He looked a lot like Michael B. Jordan (according to Bianca, who said they had the same, and I quote, “panty-dropping smile”) and we’d all taken bets on how fast he’d get a girl on her knees, pulling down those shiny boxing shorts.
Zac was dressed like a shark-bitten surfer, which meant he wore a pair of board shorts and flip flops with a fake-blood splattered thigh. And Shane… well that asshole was wearing a wrestling singlet which left zero to the imagination. He curved a little to the left, by the way. I planned to drink a lot so I forgot I knew that.
We were headed to the soccer house, where six of our senior teammates lived. They didn’t have a lot of parties, but their Halloween one was a legendary blowout, mostly due to Vince. One of our senior defenders, he had a widow’s peak in his dark hair and weird-ass long teeth that he said were hereditary. Straight up, the guy looked like Dracula on a regular day and he milked the shit out of it on Halloween.
I was dressed as Clark Kent, which was easy. All I had to do was wear a suit and shirt, unbuttoned, with a tight Superman shirt underneath. I found some black reading glasses at the drug store and popped the lenses out of them so I could see. Honestly, I thought I looked good but I was also fully covered because I had dignity. Just kidding, I had no dignity, I was just lazy and I missed Bianca. Also, it was fucking October in Pennsylvania, so I didn’t want frostbite when I took my dick out to pee in the backyard.
I hated that she couldn’t come, and I knew she was devastated. Halloween on a college campus was an adventure she’d love, but there was no way it was safe. I promised her this would be over next year, and we’d do Halloween right. She’d only been somewhat pacified.
As we walked to the soccer house, my breath blew out in front of me in a puff of white steam.
“See?” I said, as Zac rubbed his hands up and down and his arms to ward off the cold. It was fucking freezing out here. “I’m the smart one. I’m wearing clothes like a normal person, and you all are freezing your balls off.”
“Yeah, well, we’re going to be the ones getting off because we look good and you’re dressed like a teacher,” Dre shot back.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I could get off just fine if I left you half-naked assholes and found B.”
Something slammed into my back and I struggled, ready to fight (Dre, probably) until I realized the arms around me were big and furry. “What the—?” The arms let me go, and I turned around to face Hello Kitty. Straight up, a big-ass Hello Kitty stared at me with a full-body costume and a bulky head. “Uh…”
A furry hand came up and tilted the massive head back just a fraction so I got a glimpse of a slender neck, familiar smile, and nose before the head dropped back down.
I blinked at the big mesh eyes. “B? What the fuck?”
She tossed her hands out to the sides, bouncing on big white foot paws. “I can come!” Her voice was muffled. “No one will recognize me now. Aren’t I genius?” For fuck’s sake, she was giddy. She really thought this was a great idea.
“No. It’s not genius,” I said. “This isn’t safe. Do the police know you’re here?”
She avoided my question. “Well, I think it’s a great idea and I don’t want to stay home while you are all out here having fun. I’m having serious FOMO and I don’t like it.” Her voice was laced with stubbornness.
“FOMO?” Zac asked.
“Fear of missing out,” Bianca and I said at the same time.
“Look, I’ll skip the party and come stay with you.” I’d offered this already, numerous times, and each time the answer was the same. Just as it was now.
“No,” she said, smacking me on the chest with a furry hand. “You aren’t missing this to be at home with me. That’s stupid.”
“But—”
“I’m coming, Lavin. Either with you or by myself.” She crossed her arms over her…white chest, and I snorted because she looked fucking ridiculous.
Shane lifted his phone and took a picture of us.
“What the hell?” I asked.
“You’re standing here arguing with Hello Kitty,” He shrugged with a grin. “It’s fucking hysterical.”
I growled at him and began to walk. Bianca shuffled behind me. The guys fell in line with us while I silently fumed.
“I’d had so many good costume ideas that I can’t do now,” Bianca was saying. “Cleopatra. Or maybe a sexy nun.”
“A sexy nun?” Shane asked.
“It’s a thing,” Bianca said.
None of us argued.
“But Hello Kitty is better than nothing.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “You look adorable.”
“Adorable? I’m supposed to look like a sexy superhero.”
“Are you wearing tights under those pants?” Her voice was suggestive.
“That’s a no. You think I have tights?”
“You have nail polish.”
I sighed as the guys all laughed. As much as I wanted Bianca wit
h us, I was nervous. She wasn’t supposed to leave the house, and a night like this could get chaotic. Too many people in costumes, so a stranger could get close without us realizing it. Shit. But I wasn’t going to tell her to go back home. “You have your watch under that costume?”
“Yep, do you?” I rolled up the sleeve of my suit to show her. Her head bobbed. “Are you mad?”
“Nah, I’m not mad. I want you here. I just worry for you.”
“I know,” she said, softer this time. “I was getting cabin fever.”
The soccer house came into view, which was a two story farmhouse near fraternity row. The place was lit up with orange spotlights, and some weird skeleton thing was doing a creepy laugh on the front porch. Fake gravestones dotted the yard, and plastic bats and bloodied human body parts hung from the trees.
“Vince gets way too into Halloween,” Zac muttered as some clown head rose up out of the ground to cackle at us.
Bianca, on the other hand, was loving it. Not that I expected anything different. She batted her furry hand at a plastic bloody foot dangling from a bush by the house and patted the clown head like it was a pet.
Inside the house, the party was already in full swing, even though it was only nine o’clock. In the corner, Vince had shots lined up on a beer-cap decorated bar top he’d epoxied himself. Carson was there too, still hobbling around on crutches because of his torn ACL. He was as popular with the girls on campus as Dre, evidenced by not one, not two, but three girls hovering around him wearing nurse costumes. I recognized all of them as girls who’d been trying to land Carson Grandy since freshman year. They all had the same idea to show up in nurse costumes, and I didn’t miss the glares they kept shooting each other.
I nudged Shane. “Look at Grandy and his nurses.”
FALSE 9: Red Card Series Page 19