Page 92 of Right Up His Alley

I follow her gesture. Gavin stands in a short line, slightly bobbing back and forth as he waits patiently for his turn to have Francis Demoy sign a poster his mom must have bought at the merch stand.

Beside me, his mom lets out a breath that seems to empty her out completely. Her focus is fixed on her son as he steps up to shake Francis’s hand. “It’s been amazing seeing him like this. Honestly, I never thought I’d find something he’d care about this much. I wish we had a bowling alley near us in Albuquerque with as much heart and excitement as Spare Time. Did they just open?”

“Funny you ask,” I say gently. “Spare Time has been around for decades. It’s a family-run business. I just manage it now, but the owner has really made a lot of changes to it from years past.”

“A family business still going strong in this economy? That’s even better. It’s exactly what you need in a small-town community.” She grabs the strap of her purse hanging from her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your conversation. I just couldn’t leave without thanking you.”

I nod.

“I’m going to head over and surprise Gavin before the tournament starts. I just signed him up for one of your weekend-long training camps before the new school year starts. Another long drive to Pflugerville, but it’s worth it.” She smiles and walks away.

“See, Dad? Spare Time is more than just an alley. Bowling is more than just trophies. It brings in community.”

I feel his arm move behind me as he reaches for my shoulder. “I’m no Arsenio Jiménez. I don’t know much about teaching kids. You’ve made it pretty clear I’m not any good at it.” He pauses. “But if you need a hand with the adults, I’m only a phone call away.”

The offer stuns me, even if it’s only for a moment.

“I’ll let you know.” I turn to look at him. “Thanks.”

He sighs. “I’m going to grab your mother and take a seat. She’s probably livestreaming somewhere or something.” With that, he puts his hands in his pockets and shuffles away.

It isn’t until then I see he’s wearing one of my jerseys.

Thorne stitched across the back. The Dexter Bowling emblem sits beneath it. Dexter, one of my former sponsors, dropped me after I announced I wasn’t competing in the championship. Understandably.

Seeing him in it is more proof he hasn’t fully let go.

Again. That’s okay.

“Excuse me? Mr. Thorne?” another voice rises behind me.

I don’t turn right away, but I feel someone stepping into the spot where my father just was. When I finally look up and see his face, recognition lands like a stone in my stomach.

“The USBC is very pleased with Spare Time, Mr. Thorne. When I did my visit, the alley was not in the great shape it is in today. You and Mr. Jiménez should be very proud.”

“Mr. Swingston. It’s nice to see you again.” I roll my shoulders and crack my neck from side to side, hoping he’s either forgotten—or forgiven—the fact I faked my identity to hide my relationship with the potential hosting alley’s owner, all while still semi-planning to compete in the championship as a professional bowler.

“Call me Gary,” he says with a grin. “May I call you Truett? Or are you still going by Damien these days?” He chuckles.

“About that…” I start.

“About what? The part where you tried to lie about who you were to someone from the United States Bowling Congress?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a nationally recognized professional bowler who thought a member from a nationally recognized bowling league wouldn’t know who you were. I mean, come on. It’s like LeBron walking into an NBA Board of Governors meeting in sunglasses and saying his name’s Frank.” He snorts, clearly amused with himself.

“If you knew, why didn’t you rat us out for breaking the congress’s fraternization policy?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I questioned it when I walked in on you doing… whatever it was the two of you were doing, if you know what I mean.” His lips widen, showing an awkward smile. “I could’ve reported it to the USBC, but I didn’t see a reason to get them involved. We’re in Texas. There are already too many people who make a habit of stepping into other people’s private lives. Pflugerville has been more accepting than most towns. I would prefer it stayed that way.”

I nod, reminded there are still good people in small towns who try not to make things worse than they need to be. “Well, we appreciate that. Ezra and I hit some bumps along the way, but we’re together—running things here in the alley. I don’t think I’ll be competing in any more tournaments or championships anytime soon, so we won’t have to fake any more identities or worry about any more complicated dual relationship rules.”

“That’s good to hear,” he says with a grin. “Because clearly your secret was eating me alive.”

I smile.

He continues, “Speaking of eating me alive, what’s in y’all’s nacho cheese? Please excuse me.”

“Oh, yes, the bathrooms are right down the—” I start, but he’s already sprinting off in the right direction.

I call after him, “And thanks for the feedback! Still working out a few more kinks. We’ll find a better cheese vendor!”