“Are you listening?”
My head snaps up.
“Yes.”
He folds his napkin down one crease and smooths it with his thumb.
“What did I just say?”
“You said my left side's been slow since I was thirteen.”
“After that.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes.
“Uh.”
He sets his water glass down very carefully. The sound of it on the tablecloth is softer than it has any right to be.
“Theo.”
“Sorry. I didn't sleep well.”
“I can see that.”
The waiter comes back with a bread basket neither of us is going to touch. He puts it between us and asks if we need anything. Paul shakes his head without looking at him. The waiter goes. Paul waits until he's out of earshot, which in this restaurant takes four seconds of silence that feel much longer.
“You're not sharp today. You weren't sharp during your weekend practice either. I watched the tapes twice.”
“I know.”
He tilts his head.
“Do you?”
“I know I wasn't sharp. I'll be sharp Wednesday.”
He doesn't answer right away. He looks at the salt shaker between us like it's done something wrong.
“Be sharp now. Sharpness isn't something you schedule.”
“Yes.”
He picks up the water glass. Puts it down without drinking. That's one of his tells. He does it when he's about to say the thing he actually came here to say. The whole conversation so far has been warm-up.
“I don't like the Creed thing.”
My stomach drops so fast I think I'm going to be sick on the linen.
I keep my face.
I've been keeping my face for twelve years.
“What about him?”
“Phoenix asked me to put him on your line for the second power-play unit. I said no. I'll tell you why so you don't ask.”
I don't trust my voice so I just wait.
