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A weekend away might not be the worst thing for me and Izzy, far from the jerk squad and her daily frustrations. But did Izzy have time for a weekend away? She’d worked late last night and the night before that, and almost every night since her new project started.
“That’s such a girlfriend thing,” said Rodriguez. “You take her to Santa Fe, you might as well put a ring on it.”
“I don’t know,” said Gates. “She can think what she wants to think, but that’s on her, right? It’s not like a trip is some kind of contract, and once we hit that hotel room, we’re somehow locked in.”
“But it’s romantic, a weekend away. You gotta at least talk to her, y’know, set your terms. Let her know what you’re looking for, like a fling, or a?—”
“What, are you kidding?” Gates got to his feet. “She’s not going to try as hard if she knows we’re just fucking. She has to think there’s a future, or at least there’s a chance, or she’ll get like… What do you call that, when they fuck like a man? When you eat them out for an hour and then they’re like ‘bye,’ and they never even bother returning the favor?”
I stood up too. “Asshole.”
Gates turned. “Excuse me?”
I cleared my throat. “I said asshole. You got a girl who likes you, you’re going to treat her like that?”
“Hey, I pay for everything. Nice meals. Nights out. So I don’t want to get married. What’s the big deal?”
“But you’re leading her on.” I felt my ire rising. “She’s thinking she’s met someone, and you’re wasting her time. It’s the same thing as lying. It’s?—”
“It’s none of your business, is what it is.” Gates squared up to me, broad shoulders rising. I got up in his face, our skates almost bumping. All I could think of was some jackass treating Izzy that way. Teasing her, using her. Laughing behind her back.
“It’s disrespectful,” I growled. “What if she did that to you?”
“I wouldn’t care, as long as she’ll fuck me.”
I clenched my fists tight, white knuckles bulging. I could’ve hit him right then, and maybe would have, except our speed coach stuck an arm between us.
“Okay, break it up. This isn’t high school.”
“He started it,” said Gates.
“Like I said, not high school. I don’t care who started it. I’m telling you, end it. Shake hands right now and quit wasting my time.”
Gates stuck his hand out. “Sorry,” he said.
I took his hand, grudging, and gave it a shake.
“Any more of this bullshit, I’m benching you both. You two understand that?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Yes, Coach.” I glowered at my skates, and it did feel like high school. Gates sauntered off, laughing, and I sat down with a sigh.
Enrique glanced over from where he was cleaning his skates. “What’s crawled up your butt? You know her, or something?”
I shook my head, troubled. I’d never met Gates’s girl. But the thought of somebody treating Izzy that way — was it guilt I was feeling? Was I doing the same? But, no, I’d been clear with her. We’d agreed on no strings. And wasn’t she planning a move out of state? Not one of those job ads had been close to local.
“Sorry,” I said. “Just worked up, I guess. It’s been going so good, I don’t want to blow it.”
“And Gates and his love life are gonna blow up our season?”
“No, just, I don’t know. He’s not focused, is all.” I bent to futz with my skates, wanting this conversation behind me. I couldn’t shake the idea I’d messed up with Izzy. Treated her wrong somehow, like Gates with his girl. I’d never disrespect her, but respect was a given. There was plenty of room to screw up beyond that.
I bumbled through practice, distracted and messy, and stopped for a coffee on my way home. I got Izzy one too, the way she liked it, hoping that if I had messed up, it would help me mend fences. But when I walked in the door, Izzy ran out to meet me, and far from pissed off, she looked elated.
“Check it out!” She waved a blue envelope. “Stern got tickets to see Blue Dream Revival, plus a hundred-dollar gift certificate for the Sweet Onion! He couldn’t use them, so they’re all ours.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Blue Dream Revival?”
