Rowan says, “Because he should have it down by now.”
“I don’t want to run the play,” Blue says.
Stanley barks back, “That’s not your call to make, so work on it.”
Blue is a good player, but sometimes he gets in his head too much and it changes how he plays. I wish he could leave his shit at the door, but his career isn’t on the line like mine is. I have to pick up his slack on the ice, and that’s fine.
Stanley takes a big bite of food and says, “Who is Melly?”
Blue’s fork pauses for a half-second. He puts it back in motion and brings a piece of fish to his mouth and chews. He swallows.
“What?”
“Melly. She texted you last night.”
Blue looks at him. “Are you looking through my phone?”
Rowan and I make eyes to each other.Busted.
“The notification was on the lock screen. I read four words.”
Blue chews his food, and I feel the tension rising.
“So, who is she?”
The table is looking at Blue now. Lucy is watching with her glass of water at her mouth. Percy has set his fork down. Rowan has stopped chewing. I am tracking Blue’s face and he’s trying to play it cool, but I know he’s pissed.
“She’s someone I grew up with,” he murmurs.
“Continue,” Percy says.
Blue looks over at him and says, “There is no continue.” Blue picks his fork back up and eats.
Stanley starts in on Percy. He’s doing too many shootouts in practice and not enough on the rush. Percy, polite, defends himself in two short sentences. Rowan agrees with Stanley. Percy says something in French that doesn’t translate. Stanley demands a translation. Percy does not provide one. Stanley appeals to me. I tell Stanley I don’t speak French either. Stanley appeals to Lucy. Lucy, dry, says she took two years of French in high school, and she is pretty sure Percy just called Stanleya small ferret.
The table stops.
Stanley stares at Lucy and then at Percy. “A small ferret?”
“À santé.”
“What?”
“À santé, Stanley.”
The table is laughing. Lucy is laughing, and I wish I knew what the fuckÀ santémeans. Stanley is, for the first time all night, the one being roasted, and he has accepted his fate.
“So,” Stanley says because this man cannot be quiet for one moment. I look at him. “Lucy. Two nights in a row, huh.”
“Stan,” I warn. It’s fine to poke and prod the guys, but not Lucy.
He replies, “I am simply observing. The Hawthorne House rules state—”
“Stan.” I say it louder this time, not in the mood for his shit. I don’t want him to make Lucy feel unwelcome here.
“—that any overnight guest exceeding two consecutive—”
Blue with a fork full of salad, “Stan, cut it out.”
