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But I’ll ask Gary to arrange for someone to get more information about my dad’s health. Once I know more, I can decide what to do.
I’m staring at the television screen and notice the name on the jersey of the player skating towards the penalty box. “You still friends with Dane Larson?” The center for the Texas Ranchers scowls at the cameraman zooming in on his face, showing the busted lip he just got from the violent exchange with the other team’s defenseman.
“Yes. Why? Jealous?”
I snort. “Hardly.”
Carter chuckles. “Yeah, Dane and I still hang from time to time. But with us both in season, it’s been a while. We have a guys’ trip planned in April. You should come with us.”
“I’ll be in season.”
“Oh, yeah.” He frowns. “Think you can manage to convince the team to miss a game or two for a much-needed vacation with your longest friend?”
“I’ll be sure to ask the coach about it at our first preseason practice,” I deadpan.
Carter holds his hands up. “Alright. I get it. No Caribbean vacation for you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if there will be a vacation for him if he does wind up with full custody of the twins, but I hold back.
“Ah. There she is.” Carter’s gleeful statement catches me by surprise. He’s looking towards the raucous arcade behind me.
“Who?” I ask, keeping my attention on my friend. There’s a group of guys a couple of tables down who looked our way when we first came in, and I feel their lingering attention. They’re trying to confirm whether we are who they think we are. I don’t want to give them a better look, but Carter doesn’t have the same aversion.
My best friend stands and picks up his beer without answering me. “Come on. This will be fun.”
He’s walking away before I can ask what the hell he’s doing.
Not wanting to be caught by the fans alone, I begrudgingly grab my half-empty beer and follow him into the noisy gaming area.
I lengthen my stride to catch up to him just as he passes a row of racing competition games. “What are you doing, Carter?” He has his eyes set on someone, but I keep my head down to avoid being noticed. I don’t know why I bother. Carter is catching enough attention for both of us.
Again, my question goes unanswered.
Carter stops walking and posts up against a vintage Pac-Man game with a shake of his head. “Just what I thought. The guy looks like a total prick.”
“What guy?” I finally look up, too intrigued by Carter’s unusual behavior to resist.
What I see makes my heart clench in my chest.
Carlee and her best friend, Morgan, are standing in the middle of the indoor miniature golf course on the other side of the massive gaming room. She’s holding a pink putter, laughingat something her friend says, and the two guys standing next to them join in on the laughter.
She’s on a date. A double date, I think.
And Carter knew it.
“Is this why we’re here?” I don’t hide the irritation from my voice. The feeling grows when I watch one of the guys sidle closer to Carlee and whisper something into her ear. “You wanted to crash your sister’s date?”
“I’m not crashing anything,” my best friend refutes. “I’m just observing.”
“We’re too old for this, man.”
“Ah, come on. Carlee hasn’t dated anyone since her college boyfriend.”
She hasn’t?
“And I was curious who she finally deigned worthy enough to date,” Corey continues. “I’ve got to say, I’m disappointed. He looks like a tool. Who wears a dress shirt and tie while playing putt-putt?”
Both Carter and I watch as the man in question tosses said tie over his shoulder before he bends down and hits the green neon ball off the tee mat. He stands and runs a hand over his slicked-back hair, shooting Carlee a wink when his ball rolls right into the cup.
