The gym has the usual gym sounds. A treadmill belt, a weight dropping, somebody's playlist bleeding out of cheap headphones. Jax has found a reason to stretch his calves against the wall closest to us. Grayson is not pretending to watch anything.
I could tell Phoenix it was a joke.
I should tell Phoenix it was a joke.
The sentence is in my mouth already.Just a chirp, Cap. Laurent went pink, it was funny, I'm done with it.The sentence would land. Phoenix would accept it because Phoenix wants to accept it. The team would metabolize it by Monday. Paul would still hate me by Friday for other reasons.
I do not say it.
I pick up the water bottle. I drink the rest of Phoenix's water. I hand him the empty.
“Creed.”
“Cap.”
The bar on the rack behind him has started to settle with a faint metal tick.
“That's your answer?”
“That's my answer.”
Jax, against the wall, makes a sound that is half a laugh and half a cough. Grayson puts his phone in his pocket. His video was over five minutes ago. He is only listening now.
Phoenix looks at me a long time. He has a face that does not move much in the first place, and when it does not move it is not the same as nothing happening. Something is happening. I am watching him decide what size of problem I am.
“Twenty,” he says, finally.
“I'm aware.”
He sets the towel down on the rack.
“Creed.”
“I know how old he is, Cap.”
His eyes do not move off my face.
“Paul's kid.”
“I know whose kid he is.”
Phoenix's mouth tightens a quarter inch.
“You know his dad is going to take your jaw off with a skate.”
“Paul is welcome to try.”
I roll my shoulder. It clicks.
Phoenix picks up his towel. Wipes his face. Does not look away from me.
“Is this a thing?” he says.
“I don't know yet.”
That is not the sentence I meant to say.
That is the sentence I say.
