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“You don’t have anyone to tell,” she agreed. “I was saying that the head trainer of the Rustlers just left the team suddenly. His wife has some kind of disease, something like that. Anyway, they want Billy to interview for the position.”
“Wow. This close to the beginning of the season? That’s crazy. Would you want to move to Oklahoma?”
“I told him that I wouldn’t move there or anywhere else. Well, maybe Paris,” she conceded, because visiting that city had always been her dream. I’d heard from Daviana, one of the bridesmaids, that she’d wanted to honeymoon there but for some reason, they had decided against it. “My career is in this town, and his job isn’t any more important than mine,” Aubin went on. “He and I talked about all that before we got married.”
I wondered if they had, or if she had just made an announcement and then said, “Oh, Billy!” and kissed him to stop any argument he might have had against it.
“I really am going to be successful,” my sister told me, and I nodded at her.
“I know you are.” When wasn’t she?
“I just need more time to get my business off the ground, and I need more investors. Dad doesn’t have…” She checked my face and I shook my head. After the wedding, our car problems, and the medical bills, our household was totally tapped out. “I need to connect with more high-net-worth individuals. Could he get into the country club directory? He could give me the cell numbers and personal emails of the members.”
“You think Dad could get information about those people? There’s no computer in the guard shack. He has a little black and white monitor for the video feeds and a walkie-talkie from the last century to communicate on.” I shook my head. “He’s also just about the lowest level employee there and even if he did have access to personal stuff, he couldn’t give it to anyone. He’d get in huge trouble and he could get fired.”
“Fired from another bullshit job? So what, Sissy?” she asked scornfully, and then she scowled at me. “Whatever. I’ll figure out how to get what I need.”
“Aubin, don’t try to get it through Dad,” I said, worry in my voice. “He might try to steal a computer or something for you.”
“I won’t.” She sighed, and for a moment, she also seemed worried.
“Aubin—”
“There’s Sidney N. going into the tent!” she announced. “I wonder if she’s really injured or she just wanted Garrett Bowman to carry her.” She strode off on her long legs faster than I could go on my medium ones, especially since my foot was hurting now. Even though I’d been working up to today’s performance in our practices, it still hadn’t felt as good as I’d hoped. But I bet it had felt good for Sidney N. to get swept up and carried into Woodsmen Stadium in Bowie’s arms, and I considered my sister’s idea that she had played up her injury in order to make that happen. She’d looked plenty comfortable—
No, that was ridiculous. Sidney N. wasn’t a faker like that, and as I’d already told myself, Bowie was just an ultra-gentleman. I bet that he also toted pets and children across busy streets. There were probably a lot of other knightly activities he could have partaken in, too. Maybe he jousted? He might have gone on dangerous quests or bested a giant, one even bigger than he was. If a dragon happened by, he’d probably have fought it.
So helping me after my little argument with Ward was really not a big deal.
“Sissy!”
And speak of the devil—no, not the devil. I meant that my boyfriend had arrived.
“Hi, Ward,” I greeted him. “I’m glad you came.”
“Parking was terrible,” he answered.
“Oh. Does that mean youjustcame? Like, you didn’t see the Wonderwomen perform?”
“I saw you last year, and the two years before that. Was it any different this time around?” he asked me, and the answer was probably no, it hadn’t been, so it didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen. “I’m going to find something to eat,” he said next. “That’s probably the same as last year, too.” He went off toward the food trucks and I watched him for a moment and then got myself out of the rain and went into one of the players’ tents.
It was packed with people, with fans lining up to meet their favorite Woodsmen, with staffers in orange polo shirts still running around, with family and friends of the guys themselves moving through their big tables. The space was much smaller than the airplane hangar-sized room that usually housed this event, and it felt crowded and compacted. I looked around for my sister and Bill or for any former players that I’d worshiped in my youth, but then I decided to chuck it and go home. My hair was still wet with rainwater and my foot was aching more with every step.
I was texting Ward to tell him that I needed to leave when another message came in: “Walk ahead 10 paces. Stop. Turn left 90 degrees. Walk 6 more paces. Stop. Look up. Smile in recognition.”
I was already smiling as I walked ten paces forward, turned left, and completed the sequence.
“Oh, damn,” Bowie called from somewhere to my right. “I didn’t account for how short your paces would be. You have those tiny feet.”
I walked the rest of the way over to his table without the aid of directions. There was a line of people waiting their turns to meet him so I stood to the side. I didn’t want them to think that I was cutting.
“Everyone, this is Lissa Frazier,” he introduced me. “If y’all were lucky enough, you just saw the amazing performance that the Wonderwomen put on. Lissa is the little one who bounces around the stage like a rubber ball.”
There was a smattering of applause from his fans and those who were milling around the empty table with the “Ray Bishop” nameplate next to us.
“I don’t really bounce,” I said. “They’re choreographed routines. Thank you.”
“How is your friend?” he asked me, and it didn’t seem to bother him that all the people were still listening as he spoke.
