The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel

by Jenshak, Rebecca

  Me: Thank you for the shampoo and conditioner this will come in handy the next time I need to blow you off.

  Joel: You’re welcome. Also, just a thought, another plan could be you wash your hair, get dressed up and let me take you to dinner? Araceli’s Thursday seven o’clock?

  Me: I can’t.

  Joel: You really can’t or you’re blowing me off again?

  Me: Really can’t. I don’t have a sitter.

  Joel: I am sure I could find someone for that.

  Me: I’m sort of picky about who I let watch him. He’s only stayed with family at night.

  Joel: And family can’t watch him Thursday?

  Me: No.

  Two long minutes pass and I assume he’s given up.

  Joel: Alright then we’re doing this another way. Tomorrow night seven o’clock. Virtual date. You don’t even have to leave your apartment.

  Me: Virtual date?

  Joel: Details to come. See ya at seven, Kitty.

  And just like that, I have a date for tomorrow and a new favorite thing of the day.

  * * *

  “Mom, you look pretty.” Christian stares at me like I have three heads as I walk into the living room where he’s watching The Incredibles. His smile falls. “Are we going somewhere?”

  “Nope.”

  With a shrug, he goes back to the movie and I’m thankful I don’t have to try and explain why I’m dressed up. If I can’t wrap my own brain around it, I definitely can’t explain it to a three-year-old. What the heck is a virtual date anyway?

  It’s twenty minutes until seven. Christian doesn’t typically go to bed until closer to seven thirty, but I pushed everything up tonight to get him into bed before my date.

  “Alright, buddy, bedtime.”

  When he looks like he’s going to protest, I add, “Three books tonight so go pick them out and I’ll be right there.”

  As he runs off, I run a shaky hand through my hair – washed with my new shampoo and conditioner, curled and I even used an old bottle of hair spray that hasn’t been touched since… well, I’m not even sure. I opted for leggings and a shirt that shows off my midriff and hangs off one shoulder. It’s comfortable but sexy.

  I gotta be honest I don’t know if a virtual date includes the ability to see the other person. Maybe we’re going to text. I’m torn between the hope that it includes video chat and nervous that if we do, something will go wrong. I can just picture Christian busting into the living room in the middle of my date – that would be awkward.

  I grab my phone and take it with me to Christian’s room. He sits on his bed with a stack of books next to him. Way more than three, but honestly it might be better to give in tonight and hope reading in mass quantities puts him to sleep.

  Christian is sitting on my lap, head leaned back on my chest when I feel my phone vibrate with a text. We’re on book four, so I do the fast version, skipping unnecessary words and sentences, and then tuck him in. By some miracle, he seems tired and I cross my fingers as I grab my phone, give him a kiss, tell him my favorite thing of the day – him, and head out to the living room.

  Joel: Picking you up in five. And by picking you up, I mean I’m going to call you.

  Me: Do people still do that? Talk on the phone?

  Joel: Only when there’s no other option.

  Guilt gnaws and panic sets in. Crap, this is going to be the worst date in all of Joel Moreno’s dating history. That’s a long list to be at the bottom of. At least it’ll be memorable for being the worst. Ugh.

  Joel: Can’t wait, Kitty

  I press the phone to my chest and smile. He always knows just what to say.

  At exactly seven, my phone rings. I take two deep breaths and then answer, “Hello?”

  “Hi, Kitty. You look beautiful.”

  I giggle into the phone. “How do you know?”

  “You always look beautiful.”

  Feeling the blush creep up my neck, I divert the conversation. “So, what exactly are we doing on this virtual date?”

  “Check your email.”

  “My email?”

  “Yep, I sent you something.”

  I walk to the dining room table where my laptop sits and open my email. There’s something really exciting about seeing his name in my inbox. Seems silly since I’m talking to him on the phone, but as I click on the email, subject Best Date of Your Life, I feel more special than I ever could have imagined.

  There’s a link and I click it, praying it’s not porn, and am pleasantly surprised when it takes me to a website to claim my free movie. I attempt to read the Spanish title aloud, “La Val…” My words trail off and I decide to just go for the synopsis which is thankfully in English.

  “Now, full disclosure, I’ve never seen it, but my mom said it was super popular when she was young, and it takes place just a little later than your Hector and Imelda story.”

  I finish reading the synopsis, smiling ear to ear. “This is amazing.” I can practically hear his grin. Cocky bastard. “We’re going to watch this together?”

  “Yep. I’ve got it all fired up and ready to go so just let me know when you’re ready.”

  I unplug my laptop and carry it with me to the couch.

  “Where are you? At your place?”

  “Yep, in my room. Want a visual?”

  Heck yes, I do. “Sure.”

  A moment later the text arrives. Joel sprawled out on a bed, propped up on the headboard with a laptop on his legs. He’s naked from the waist up and I follow his bare torso down past the chiseled abs and V-cut. I’m mentally undressing him and I’m not the least bit embarrassed until I hear his voice through the speakerphone. “Put it in your spank bank for later, Kitty.”

  I close out of the picture. “Spank bank, really?”

  “Are you suggesting I’m not hot enough to be used as spank bank material or that you don’t spank the bank. I’m calling bullshit either way.”

  “You’re too much.” I shake my head and press play on the movie. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  For the next ninety minutes, we watch the movie. There’s commentary on the wardrobes and how the quality of filmmaking has changed, but for the last half of the movie we’re both so glued to the screen, not a word is uttered. Or at least I assume that’s why he’s quiet. Maybe he’s fallen asleep.

  I press a hand over my heart and bask in the feeling of awe that few films can pull off. “That was amazing.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but that wasn’t terrible.”

  “You picked a movie that you thought might be terrible?” I laugh into the phone.

  “Well, I was confident you’d like it.”

  That’s oddly sweet. “I did. Thank you. This is the best virtual date I’ve ever had. Also, it’s the only one.”

  It’s given me some ideas for my play, and I itch to write, but I’m not about to end our virtual date prematurely.

  “And it’s not over yet.”

  Butterflies dance in my stomach at the prospect of what’s next. “There’s more?”

  “Well, just like a regular date, after the movie you’re more relaxed and open so it’s a good time to talk and get to know each other.”

  He continues to impress me with his insight. And he’s right, I do feel more comfortable now.

  “If we were on a real date, I’d reach for your hand and we’d walk from the theater down to that ice cream store at the corner of Fourth and University. Ever been?”

  “No, but I’ve seen it.”

  Joel Moreno is good at romance. I didn’t expect that. I expected charm and smooth moves, but this feels so much more intimate. Personal. A small voice in my head whispers that this is probably how he makes every girl feel.

  “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for a girl?” I ask, needing to know if this is just who he is. Wine and dine, make girls feel like they’re the most important thing in the universe, and then never call again.

  I hear him expel a brea
th. “I don’t know.”

  “But you’ve taken girls to the movies before?”

  “Sure.”

  “And to the ice cream shop after?”

  He hesitates, but I know him well enough to know he won’t lie. “Yeah, I have.”

  Obviously, I expected this answer. I know all about Joel’s reputation, so it shouldn’t sting to hear tonight isn’t exactly something special. He’s just treating me like he would any other date – well, the virtual aspect aside.

  “What about you? What’s the most romantic date you’ve ever been on?”

  No way am I telling him it’s this date. Especially now that I know it’s his go-to move.

  “Prom night. My father lost his job right before so I couldn’t afford a dress and decided not to go. Anyway, the guy I liked skipped out too, showed up at my house unannounced the night of the prom and we danced under the stars.”

  “Why didn’t you just wear a dress you already owned or better yet why didn’t he buy you a dress?”

  “Oh my God. That would be your answer. It’s moot. That didn’t happen to me, it was a Saved by the Bell reference.” I groan when he doesn’t respond. God, my life is boring. “Never mind. I guess the most romantic thing someone has done for me is buy me roses. They were a surprise and he sent them to school, so it was like he was publicly declaring his love.”

  “Lame. Flowers are cliché.”

  “Every guy thinks that, and every guy is wrong.”

  “And prom – yours wasn’t romantic?”

  “I didn’t go. That part was true.”

  “How come?”

  I pause and consider how to phrase my answer. “They don’t make prom dresses in maternity size.”

  “Ah.”

  We’re quiet and I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear as I pick at a piece of lint on my leggings. Images of Joel in a tux, some beautiful girl on his arm, pulling up to his prom in some ridiculous car, probably a Hummer limo, makes me feel resentful and jaded.

  “Practice in the morning?” I ask, checking the time and realizing it’s later than I thought.

  “Yeah, guess I should let you get to bed and do the same.”

  “I had fun tonight. Thank you for this.”

  “It was my pleasure, Kitty. Just one big disadvantage to a virtual date.”

  My heart hammers in my chest and I feel like I’m back at my parents’ house talking to a boy and not wanting to be the first one to hang up. “What’s that?”

  “I can’t kiss you before I say goodnight.”

  “Kissing on the first date.” I make a tsk sound. “I thought the rule was no kissing until the third date.”

  “Think we already broke that rule.”

  “Didn’t count. It was a non-date.”

  He laughs, and I enjoy the warm, rich sound.

  “Night, Joel.”

  “Night, Kitty.”

  14

  Joel

  “Where were you last night?” Nathan lights a cigarette as we walk from the gym back to the house.

  “Home.”

  “You were?” He cocks a brow and then his face shifts in understanding. “Oooh, I see. Nice. Shelly?”

  “Hell no.” I shake my head as if it’ll rid me of the memory.

  “Tara?”

  Another shake of my head.

  “Who was it? If you holed up in your room with her all night, she must be a doozy.”

  “Actually, I was alone. Well, sort of.” I clear my throat. “I had a virtual date.”

  He blows out a long puff of smoke. “That some sort of online hookup thing?”

  Nervous as shit, an anxious laugh rumbles in my chest. “Nah, man. Old school style, talking on the phone.”

  “I don’t understand. You just talked to some girl on the phone? Seems like taking her out on an actual date would be a whole lot easier.”

  “It’s complicated,” I admit.

  “Since when do you do complicated?” He side eyes me as he takes another drag.

  “I…” I consider my words. “I don’t. I’m not. I made a deal with a girl, she owed me a date, but couldn’t leave her house. I improvised.”

  “That sounds like the opposite of uncomplicated. Tell me, what does one do on a ‘virtual date’?” He air quotes.

  “Fuck off.” I shove his shoulder. “What’s going on tonight?”

  We make plans to have people over and as we get back to the house, Nathan and I split to shower and make calls.

  I haven’t heard from Katrina today, not that I expected to, but I’m wondering what she’s up to and if she’s thought of me. I can’t seem to get enough of her and I’m about to drop all pretenses of even trying.

  As I towel off, I grab my phone. Instead of sending out the group message that we’re having people over, I pull up her number. My finger hovers over her name and I decide to call instead of text. Hearing her voice last night, soft and unassuming, was nice.

  “Hello?” she answers sounding rushed and agitated and I immediately feel like an ass for calling. Who calls unannounced these days?

  “Uh, hi. Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  There’s a pause. “Joel?”

  “Yeah. Did I not come up on caller ID?”

  “Sh– crap,” she exclaims quietly away from the phone. “I didn’t check before I answered. I assumed it was one of the other moms calling to get an ETA.”

  I’m completely thrown off my game. She sounds busy and uninterested and now I feel like a chump. I decide to go with short and concise. “We’re having people over tonight and I wanted to invite you.”

  “Oh. That’s nice, but I can’t. I’ve got twenty hungry kids and their moms pissed that I forgot it was my turn to get snacks for soccer practice and if I don’t find something gluten, nut, and dairy free and get it back to Russell Field in the next hour I’m going to get blacklisted.”

  I feel her exasperation through the phone and can perfectly picture her standing in the grocery store pacing the aisles. “I gotta go. Thanks for the invite though.”

  She hangs up leaving me holding my phone up to my ear and feeling like an idiot. She’s done nothing but tell me how unavailable she is, and I just keep pushing. I don’t know what it is about this girl that I can’t just accept we’re not at similar points in our life to have anything beyond flirting over coffee. It’s been a long time since I cared enough to pursue someone like this and the knowledge of how that ended alone should have me running the other way.

  I dress quickly and then shoot off a few texts to invite more people over. The guys are already downstairs when I head to the kitchen. Grabbing my keys and an apple from the counter, I do a quick survey of the liquor laid out. “I’m gonna go get supplies. Any preferences?”

  Z and Wes shake their heads. Nathan speaks up. “I think we’re good, man. We can probably get by on what we have.”

  “Never hurts to have too much,” I throw back as I head out the door.

  It isn’t until I’m pulling up to Russell Field that I start to re-think my decision to interfere. I stare out to the kids running around, moms huddled together watching the kids intently. I sit in my car and wonder if this is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had. I’ve all but convinced myself to turn the car around when I spot her. Standing off on her own looking out of place and even from my car I can tell anxiety rolls off her in waves.

  I move to action, grabbing the bags from the backseat and crossing the field like a man on a mission.

  The other moms spot me first. Kids suddenly forgotten, their stares rake over me like I’m Superman. I think it must be the groceries or maybe the fact I’m even here. The only other guy on the field is the coach. Don’t dads show up for this kind of shit?

  I ignore their curious glances – focused only on getting to Katrina. I can tell the moment she notices me. Before her gaze even meets mine, she stills, and her eyes widen while she scans the field. Like she can feel my presence before she sees me. A myriad of emotions crosses
her face as she takes me in. Confusion, happiness, surprise. She steps forward slowly. All eyes are on us.

  “Wha—”

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say loud enough that the nosey moms hanging on my every word can hear me crystal clear. I lift the groceries at my side. “Where you want them?”

  She opens her mouth and closes it, glances over to our captive audience and back before she answers, “Right over there.”

  I follow her to a folding table with a bag of individually boxed raisins and a gallon of orange juice with paper cups sitting next to it. I can’t help the smirk at her last-minute snack selection. “I had to improvise,” she grits out quietly.

  I shoot her a wink as I set the bags down. We unpack the items in silence, but I feel her watching my every movement.

  Her eyes aren’t the only ones I feel on me. The group of women that’d been ignoring her when I pulled up, now walks toward us. Their leader is wearing yoga pants and a tank top with a zip up hoodie left open at the top so her cleavage is on display. When she speaks, her tone is Splenda- sweet, which is to say, fake as fuck. “Katrina, I don’t think I’ve met Christian’s father.”

  “Oh, no, he’s…” Katrina’s face reddens and it’s clear she’s uncomfortable, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m here or because Christian’s father isn’t. Either way, I want to erase that look.

  Stepping forward, I extend a hand. “Joel. Nice to meet you.”

  “Samantha. Bryson’s mom.”

  A whistle blows and the kids race toward the sidelines at top speed.