AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come on,” Eli murmurs, taking another step forward.
I take one more back. My ass hits a tabletop. Damn.
“There’s no escape,” Eli tells me. “Give me the phone, Mackenzie.”
“But you had a big peter,” I tell him. “Your mom says so.”
Myles coughs out a laugh and it distracts Eli long enough for me to duck around him, making a sprint for victory. But then his arm curls around my waist and I’m lifted through the air until my back thuds against his hard chest.
“Got you,” he whispers in my ear. He takes the phone and slides his finger over it. “If you want to see how big my peter is, you only have to ask nicely.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Spoilsport.”
“It’s okay,” Sophie shouts out. “Linda sent a whole bunch of their baby photos to our group chat. Just tell me your phone number, Mackenzie.”
Eli groans. And I smile because I like to win, too.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
MACKENZIE
The next two weeks pass in the blink of an eye. With the advanced sales for the exhibition game looking so good, it’s clear we’re going to be able to pay off the IRS debt. I hate to admit it, but Dad was right. The game is a great idea.
The production team has been calling every day, and their scout has been down to check out all of the arrangements. They explain they’ll be in the background but they’ll be here every moment dad is. He’s going to love it but I already hate it.
Eli has been stoic about all the changes. Three days ago the rink was swarmed with cameras, as they recorded practice, followed by candid interviews with Eli and the team which they’re planning to use as teasers for the big game.
I could see him getting impatient when they asked if Eli could dumb down a little.
“We want to create a narrative for you. It would be so good to paint you as the Ted Lasso of the hockey game.”
Seriously. The man has the patience of a saint.
I showed him how appreciative I was when we got back to my place that night. He’s a professional, but I also think he’s only tolerating this for me. And for Gramps.
It’s Friday night, which means it’s game night. This week the Mavericks are at home playing against the Wolf Pack, managed by one of Eli’s old teammates.
And I want to make tonight good for him. No matter what happens to the score.
Because he’s special. I’ve realized that much over the past few weeks. So as the spectators pour into the stadium and the seats fill up, I grab the bag I’ve stashed in my desk drawer. I went to the mall last week to get this, while the Mavericks were playing in North Carolina, and I smiled the whole way home.
Either he’s going to love this or he’s going to hate it.
It’s amazing how busy the stadium has gotten since news of the All-star game and my parent’s reality TV show have gotten out. Our season ticket sales have gone up three hundred percent, and we’re attracting students from the local schools and colleges, too. It all helps to create a buzzing atmosphere, as Carter wins the face off and gains control of the puck.
“You’re wearing a Mavericks jersey,” Brian says, when I take the chair next to him.
“Yeah. I thought I’d better show some team spirit.” I smile and touch the big M embroidered on the front.
“I could have gotten you one. We have spares,” he tells me. He’s kind of sweet when you get to know him.
“It’s okay. I wanted this one.”
At half time I don’t head down for my usual hot dog. Instead, I head for the executive bathroom and grab my phone, turning around so I can take a photo of the back of my jersey in the mirror.
Salinger. 8.
It’s such a cliché, but dammit I want to wear his number on my back. I wanthimto know I’m wearing it.
