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The hypocrisy.
The lies.
“No. No, you can’t come in, Andy. And you shouldn’t have stalked me to my mother’s house. That’s fucking creepy.”
His eyes pop at being told off. He’s not used to being treated this way, golden boy that he is.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets, not yet defeated. “Fine. I understand. You are angry with me, as you should be.”
A patronizing tone rolls off him in big, ugly lumps.
“But look. Given the recent news, that your ‘marriage,’”—he has the nerve to use air quotes—“was not, um, the real thing, I thought we might, you know, talk.”
“About what?”
He looks up and down the street and chuckles. Like he can’t believe I’m not just jumping into his slimy arms.
This would be fun if it wasn’t so outrageous.
“I want to talk about us, Petal. I can’t tell you how great it felt to discover your thing with that dumb hockey player was a farce. I want us to give it another try. We’ll be more open. More honest.”
“From what I recall, Andy, I was always open and honest. You’re the one who needs to get his shit together. Tell me, what happened with Jessica?”
As if I don’t already know. I just want to hear him say it.
“She... went back to her old boyfriend. He finally proposed to her.”
“So sweet,” I say. “Maybe you’ll be invited to their wedding.”
“Okay. I can see we’re not getting anywhere with this?—”
“You’rethe one not getting anywhere. And you never will. Please do not show up at my mother’s house again, or any other place where I’m likely to be. And for your information, Rake, whom you so kindly called a dumb hockey player, and I are doing great.”
He wrinkles his face. “That’s not what I read in the news?—”
I lean out the front door and right into his face, my patience exhausted. I’m pissed. Yes, I’m fucking pissed now, more pissed than I was even the day I left him at the church. The fury boiling inside me has reached its peak, and is about to explode, like a poorly watched pressure cooker.
Andy’s lucky I don’t have a weapon on me because I want to hurt him. Badly.
“It doesn’t matter what you read in the news, because you don’t matter. Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”
I slam the door and turn to see my mother, a hand over her mouth, silently shaking with laughter.
35
RAKE
“So what’s the word, man?”Jonas asks after the waiter takes our order for burgers and beers.
He has about fifteen minutes before he has to head home to relieve the nanny.
I look at him and Tyler, my best buddies on the team. I wonder what it would be like to no longer play with them, to no longer see them every day, at least during the season.
To no longer be the victim of Tyler’s practical jokes, and to no longer hear about Jonas’s kid taking her first steps, or the older one finally going potty on the toilet.
It’s funny. When I think about leaving the team, these are the things I think I’ll miss the most. Not winning games or the adulation of the fans, even though I do love that, but the little things that make life real. The little victories and setbacks your friends help you through, and you help with in return.
“I’m told I’ve created a mess, made things even worse for myself, and… that I might be traded. Lovely, huh?”
