The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel

by Jenshak, Rebecca

  “Get out, you have a kid?”

  “Yep,” I say, and she doesn’t look surprised or weirded out, anything really. Just accepting. “A son, Christian. He’s three.”

  “Well, call him, do what you need to do. I’m going to pour us two very strong glasses of rum and diet.”

  She pours the drinks as I settle on to her couch. Dropping my glass down on the side table, she carries hers toward an open door I assume leads to her bedroom. “I’m gonna change. Holler when you’re done. I want to hear your story, Katrina Phillips.”

  I take a small sip of the rum and diet. I can’t remember if I’ve had rum before, but I’m pleased to discover I don’t hate it. Pressing send, I take a larger gulp hoping it’ll ease my nerves. Nadine answers on the second ring. “Hi, Katrina. Christian was just asking about you. Well, you know before he darted off to the next thing that caught his attention.”

  “He was?” I smile into the phone. “How’s he been?”

  “Busy. Just like his father always was. I always used to tell Victor I hoped someday he’d have a kid as busy as him. ‘Course I assumed he’d be around to raise him.”

  She goes quiet which is more alarming than her rant.

  “Victor isn’t there? I thought he was coming down tonight.”

  She sighs, and I breathe through my nose and let it out slowly trying to erase the irritation I feel. “He had a slight change of plans, but he’ll be here tomorrow. Christian’s out back with Bill filling the bird feeders. You want me to call him in to talk?”

  “No, that’s alright. Can you just tell him goodnight and I love him and that I’ll call him first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “You don’t want him to call before bed?”

  “Well actually I’m just getting ready to go out with a friend so I’m not sure…” I know it’s not the same, but suddenly I feel like Christian has had two parents flake on him tonight. “Actually, yes, have him call me.”

  “How about I have him call first thing in the morning instead? He really should be getting to bed.”

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “Enjoy your night, Katrina,” she says, and I think it’s pity I hear in her voice.

  We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone into my purse as if it’s some symbol of the responsibilities of my real life.

  Tabitha is in her room holding up two dresses when I walk in. “What do you think?” She moves the one in her right hand in front of her. “Little black dress?”

  It’s a simple dress – short, low cut. It’s more barely-there-dress that just so happens to be black, but with Tabitha’s long legs and tiny waist, I have no doubt she could pull it off.

  “Or the pink?” The way she practically squeals with excitement I can tell which she prefers. And when she holds it up to her face, it compliments her pale skin tone and auburn hair. She’s like a hotter coed version of Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink.

  “That one,” I say and then steal a glance down at my outfit. I’d opted for an off the shoulder top, leggings, and boots. I look good but next to Tabitha I’m better prepared to teach preschoolers than go to a college party. “I suddenly feel really underdressed.”

  She holds the black dress out to me. “It’s all yours. I mean, you already look hot. You always do. I’ve seen you a few times around campus and in the café, you’re always so put together.”

  In this case, I think put together means doesn’t show enough skin.

  Tabitha was right about Brody and we’ve already finished our second drink and I’ve told her more about my life than anyone but Willa before he texts that he’s on his way. She makes one more attempt to get me in the skimpy dress. “Last chance.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You might as well make tonight count. If it’s going to take another three years to get you out for a night…”

  “It’s only been a year,” I say as I laugh. “Willa took me to a local poetry reading and mixer.”

  “Oooh so wild,” Tabitha mocks, but her tone is playful.

  “Alright, fine. I will wear the dress but promise you won’t leave my side. I have a feeling I’m going to feel very exposed.”

  She grins victoriously. “I promise not to leave your side, but that’s only because if I stand next to you, there’s a slight chance guys might notice me after they’re through checking you out.”

  When Brody finally arrives, we giggle our way to the curb and pile into his beat-up station wagon. It’s a good thing Brody is such a popular guy because this car would not score him any points with the ladies. Not that mine, covered in crumbs that I can never seem to vacuum up and complete with car seat, would pass as cool.

  “Katrina, wow.” Brody’s eyebrows shoot up as he sees me. “You look… wow.”

  “Not too naked?” I ask with a nervous laugh.

  “Is that a trick question?” His smile is reassuring. “You look great.”

  “Where are we going anyway?” I ask from the back seat while Tabitha and Brody fight over the radio.

  “Jock central.” Tabitha claps her hands and turns back to me. “Baseball guys are having a party tonight and their parties always attract the other teams on campus.”

  “Their record is shit, but they’re good guys and they’re cool with everyone, so their parties are always awesome. You been?”

  I shake my head and take deep breaths hoping that’ll calm my rapidly beating heart.

  I see people walking toward the party before I see the house itself. It sits just up the street and across the road from the baseball field which makes sense although I hadn’t given it much thought before.

  Brody parks along a side street and kills the engine. Confused butterflies that flutter with excitement and then nose dive with intermittent anxiety rid me of any remaining false calm from the alcohol. I follow along silently as we walk up to the baseball house in a steady stream of people. I’m doing it. Only took three years but I’m finally attending a real college party. The thought of beer in a plastic cup never sounded more appealing.

  No one seems to look at me funny, so I take that as my fitting in. But where they’re all moving with purpose and ease like they’ve done it a million times, I’m hesitant and watch Brody and Tabitha closely to mimic their movements.

  We walk through a living room and into a small kitchen that has liquor bottles lined up on a counter with cups and mixers. I spot the silver barrel and do a little mental happy dance at seeing my first keg in action. I watch a group of guys huddled around laughing and taking turns pouring beer from the metal drum.

  I accept the cup Brody pushes in my direction as he says, “Pick your poison.”

  Tabitha eyes the bottles carefully before pointing at the rum. “I’m not mixing my alcohol tonight.”

  Brody hands her the bottle. “I’m gonna take a lap, see who’s here before I commit to a drink for the night.”

  He walks off as Tabitha pours rum and diet into her cup. “What about you Katrina?” She stops. “You go by anything else? Kat? Trina?”

  I lift a shoulder and let it fall as I shake my head. When I was younger, friends tried to call me different things, but nothing ever stuck.

  “Nicknames?”

  The only one that comes to mind is…

  “Kitty.” His voice, that voice, it’s husky yet smooth and when he says my nickname, the ridiculous nickname that makes my body tingle, it feels like a brand.

  7

  Joel

  “Kitty.” Her name is out before my brain fully acknowledges it’s her.

  You could knock me over with a feather. Maybe it’s one of those weird dissonance things where your mind fails to associate a person outside of the usual place you see them or maybe I’m just that hammered. I’ve never run into Katrina anywhere but the café, but it’s clear I’m also drunk because it’s the only reason I’d be using nerdy words like dissonance. Even in my head.

  The dress she’s wearing shows off long, toned
legs, and the tits I’ve been admiring under the layers of material she usually has on are happily not the result of a miracle push-up bra. Her profile is to me, but I watch her react to my voice. She stills and her lips part as she turns toward me. She doesn’t respond until the girl next to her, a dark redhead who eyes me with a mixture of confusion and intrigue, elbows her.

  “Joel Moreno.” The way she says my name is like a double shot from the bottle of Jack I hold in one hand. It burns so good.

  “What are you doing here?”

  One brow raises and a hand goes to her hip. It’s the same mocking look and stance she gives me every week, but tonight she looks nervous without the counter between us. “It’s a party. What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Good point.” I give her friend, who looks familiar but thankfully not in an I’ve seen her naked way, a small head nod and step closer to Katrina. I grab three cups and fill each of them with a healthy shot from the bottle I’ve nearly finished off. I hand a cup to Katrina and her friend and then lift the other toward them. “Cheers to doing what people do at parties.”

  Her friend smirks and looks between Kitty and me. Katrina lifts her cup to her pink lips but pauses before drinking. She grimaces at the smell, proceeds to take a sip, coughs, and then forces the rest down like a champ. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Shots usually are,” the redhead says and takes hers all at once. She consolidates the cups in her hand and chases the shot with whatever she’s drinking.

  Kitty watches and does the same. “What’s the point of drinking something that tastes bad?” Her face flushes. “I don’t drink very often.”

  I file that tidbit away. “First of all, don’t talk about my boy Jack like that. Secondly, depends on what you want from the night. Different kinds of alcohol make people feel different ways. Wine drunk is emotional. “Oh my God, I love you so much,” I say in a mock high-pitched voice that pulls a small laugh from her friend. Beer drunk is loud and obnoxious…” I wave my hand toward the keg in the dining room. The guys around it push and shove while they take turns filling their cups, smack talking so loud you can hear their taunts above the rest of the noise in the house.

  “And this.” She lifts her empty cup. “What kind of drunk will I be?”

  “Fun and invincible.”

  The girl next to her snorts. “Until tomorrow morning anyway.”

  “Some truth to that,” I admit.

  “Tabitha,” the redhead introduces herself.

  Katrina glances between us. “Sorry, I thought maybe you two already knew each other.”

  “Joel, nice to meet you.” I extend a hand to Tabitha.

  Before she can shake, Nathan butts in. “Shots, shots, shots,” he sings in his best Lil Jon impersonation, which is fucking terrible.

  He has an empty pizza box he’s using as a serving tray and it’s filled with shot glasses of whatever party concoction he’s created.

  He offers it first to Tabitha and Katrina who both take one.

  I hold up a hand to pass. I know my limits. I like to teeter right on the brink of wasted. I’m toeing the line as it is. The mixture of booze and the adrenaline pumping through me at the sight of Katrina right here when I least expected it has me lit.

  “Shut up. You’re not pussing out. It’s only ten o’clock. Party’s just getting started.”

  “I’m pacing myself,” I say, annoyed, but take one anyway. I lift it to my nose and sniff, try and get some idea what I’m getting myself into. All I smell is a fruity punch of some sort.

  “What is this?”

  His smile is fast and wicked.

  Ah fuck. “There Everclear in this?”

  Fuck that. I place the shot back on his tray. And no way in hell I’m letting Katrina drink this. Girl will be blackout drunk before she knows it.

  Too late. I look over in time to see her pretty face contort in a mixture of confusion and disgust.

  “Oh God, what is that?” she asks after she’s taken half the shot.

  I swipe it from her hand and drink the rest of it before responding. I catch only the slightest hint of the ridiculously high proof alcohol, but my body shivers as if it knows I’ve just fucked it.

  “Hey, I was gonna drink that.”

  “Trust me. I did you a solid.”

  Tabitha sets her still full shot glass down and glares at Nathan. “What’s in that?”

  “Relax.” Nathan bumps my shoulder. “It’s only got a little bit of Everclear in it.”

  “That shit will mess you up so fast you don’t even realize it.”

  I’m pleased when Katrina makes no move to get another cup from Nathan’s tray, but instead lifts her empty cup and says, “I’m going to get a beer.”

  Nathan is already off on his quest to get everyone shit-faced, so I follow Katrina to the keg.

  “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve never seen you out before.”

  She attempts a pour. Flow is weak and she messes with the tap and gives it a shake like that’ll help.

  “Needs to be pumped.”

  “Uh, what?” She drops it and looks to me helplessly.

  “I’m starting to think this might be your first time pouring from a keg.” I step forward and give the keg a couple slow pumps. “The key is not to over pump. You pump too much, and you’ll be able to ski on the head.”

  I motion her over with a head tilt and hold out the nozzle. She places the cup underneath and I fill it like a pro.

  “You’re staring,” she says as I hand her the cup and do indeed keep watching her.

  “Sorry. I’m just… surprised to see you. Come on, let’s go outside. It’s quieter out there and we can talk.”

  Talk, make out, whatever.

  “I should get back to Tabitha.” She motions with her head and I look over to see her friend watching us carefully. “We came together.”

  Girls are weird as shit about sticking with their friends at parties. Typically this is when I’d offer they both join me outside, but I’m not in the mood for a three-way. My attention is focused solely on Katrina. But she’s not getting out of my sight, either. I’m afraid she might be a hallucination or maybe I’ve already passed the fuck out and I’m dreaming.

  I place an arm around her shoulders, enjoying every inch of bare skin that heats my forearm. “Tabitha,” I call out as we approach. “How do you feel about drinking games?”

  Her expression doesn’t look the least bit staged or put off at my domineering their plans. “I love them.”

  I let my arm drop and grab Katrina’s free hand. Her small palm is limp for the briefest of moments before she relaxes and curls her fingers around mine. I lead them to the table in the middle of the kitchen and thank karma or God or just dumb luck that there are three empty seats.

  Mario and Vanessa are seated with some other baseball guys and girls I recognize as baseball house regulars. “Yo, Mario, cool if we join you?”

  He groans as Vanessa shoots a quarter into the shot glass in front of her and raises both arms overhead in victory. “Sucker, drink again!”

  “Fair warning, Vanessa is unnaturally good at shooting quarters,” he says as he fills his shot glass with the Captain Morgan bottle in front of him and then shoots it back.

  “It’s true,” Vanessa says with pride. Her eyes land on Katrina and her smile widens. “Hey, you’re Katrina. You work at the café with Blair… or well, did before she quit.”

  Katrina nods. “I thought I recognized you. You’re her roommate, right? It’s not the same without her.”

  Vanessa is hot but ruthless. I wouldn’t cross her for any amount of money, but right now she smiles so sweetly as she motions for Katrina to take the seat next to her that I’m at a total loss. My Kitty seems to have a weird effect on everyone. The remaining seats are on the other side of the table, so I pull out a chair for Tabitha and then take the one directly across from Katrina. At least this way I can watch her more carefully. So much for getting handsy, though.

  We pla
y quarters and Vanessa destroys us as Mario predicted. My eyes stay glued to Katrina who watches and copies the movements of everyone else. I can’t get a read on her. She’s not a party hopper because I’ve never seen her out, but she seems to be enjoying herself if not more timidly than everyone else.

  “Okay, I’m out,” Mario says after he’s forced to take another shot.

  Vanessa scrunches up her nose at him. “Good call. I don’t want you to have whiskey dick later.”

  “TMI, V,” I say with a chuckle and watch as Mario hangs his head and mumbles something under his breath.

  “How about Drunk Jenga? You still got that one?” I ask, not having any interest in playing anything, but suddenly feeling like I need to be Martha-fucking-Stewart playing hostess and ensuring everyone has a good time. Well, not everyone, just Katrina.

  “Good call,” the jersey chaser next to me says with more enthusiasm than Jenga deserves.

  “What’s Drunk Jenga?” Katrina asks hesitant and quiet, directed to me.

  “You’ll like it,” I promise. And she will. Her having a good time has become my only goal for the night. Well, and getting her home with me.

  We set up Jenga and Katrina laughs as she reads out some of the tiles. “Flash the table.”

  One of my personal favorites.

  “Make a rule for the table.” And “Dare two people to kiss.”

  I read the look on her face that asks if we’re seriously going to play such a ridiculous game that could have been made up by middle school boys. Yep, sweetheart, college is just puberty on steroids. Playing games like Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, or I’ve Never is totally legit because there is alcohol involved. Tomorrow people will blame their actions tonight on being drunk when the truth is they were super horny and looking to get laid.

  “I’ll go first,” the girl next to me says, side-eyeing me. Ah, hell. I hadn’t considered that I might have to partake in the festivities. I mean, I’m usually game, but with Kitty here – no fucking way I’m wasting time making out with some other girl.

  “Actually, how about we let Kitty go first seeing as how it’s her first time.” I stand and move around the table. With one hand on the back of the chair, I lean down.