Page 17 of The Tryout

The tension on Tremblay’s face resolves and he nods briefly.

“Just…don’t let Coach forget about me, yeah?”

As he pulls into the garage down the street from his house, he smiles at me.

“Never.”

Sure enough, Jamie does ply me with lasagna and garlic bread, even opening a bottle of red wine, something I haven’t seen him do in my time here. I wave off his offer of a glass, making an excuse about my age. He seems momentarily surprised, but doesn’t push it.

As dinner winds down, my belly full of carbs and cheese, he turns toward me, a nervous look on his face.

“Everything okay?”

It seems more painless to just ask rather than wait for him to get around to whatever he’s going to say.

“I…you know that I’m not happy you’re going back to Iowa, right?”

Join the club.

“Yeah, man. I know.”

“Okay. Because I’m not, and I’ll sure as shit be pestering Ramsey to bring you up as soon as possible.”

“But?” There’s always a but.

“Look, I didn’t want to bring this up while you were here, didn’t want to, like, jinx you or whatever. But I’ve got a friend…my best friend, actually. My college roommate.”

My confusion must show on my face.

“I’m explaining this wrong. Anyway, Avery – that’s his name, Avery – is gonna be in Iowa next week. For a tryout.”

Huh. I know clubs do that – bring in old guys or young guys to see how they mesh with the team and whether they’re going to be a good fit. Hell, I’d done it myself not that long ago, a late-season stretch of practices that convinced the Pack to go ahead and sign me that July after the draft.

“With the Pack?”

“Yeah. Ethan used to play with one of the coaches, and Avery’s good – I promise he’s good, we played together for three years. But anyway, I was wondering if you can just…I don’t even know. Say hi to him? Make sure he’s doing okay?”

If Carter doesn’t know what he wants me to do, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to know. Still, it’s not like I want to say no to Jamie. I nod my head, searching for words.

“Sure. Definitely.”

The look of relief on his face is worth the little white lie.

“Okay, great. And if you think he’s not okay, just call me, yeah?”

I hardly intended to become a babysitter this season, but what else am I gonna do while I rot away in Des Moines? I nod again.

“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

CHAPTER FOUR

AVERY

Des Moines, Late September

As I walk into the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express in West Des Moines, Iowa, I can’t help but feel a bit out of place. I prop my sunglasses up on my head, looking for someone to help me check in.

A short, older woman comes bustling in from the breakfast area.