Page 21 of Anti Player

“That can be tough,” I reply.

“I don’t like it. I don’t want to go back,” he complains.

“Well, wasn’t today your second day at camp? It can take longer than that to make new friends.”

“No, the kids were mean,” Asher insists.

I sigh. “I had that problem too when I was young. I used to talk like Smith. I couldn’t get my words out properly and kids gave me a hard time,” I explain. “Actually, your uncle, Henry, was my only friend for a long time.”

“I like Uncle Henry,” Asher states. He is a good guy.

“Can I go back to your camp again?” Asher asks.

“You sure can.”

“Thanks, Kaleb,” he says.

“Buddy, why don’t you go take a shower? Get clean before your mom comes home,” Brett cuts in.

“Okay,” Asher agrees. He hops off the couch, stares at me a moment and pauses, then he reaches over and hugs me.

“Oh,” I say, and it takes me a moment to hug him back. I pat his back then he pulls away and runs off.

“Looks like he likes you more than his own uncle.” Brett chuckles.

“Aww, are you jealous?” I say with a mocking tone.

Brett laughs.

“He’s a cute kid.”

“You do have a way with kids,” Brett replies. “They really look up to you when you talk about your past. It’s commendable, Bardot.”

“Wow! A compliment from the infamous Brett Noble.”

“Fuck off.”

“There we go. That is a lot more Brett of you.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re on a roll, buddy,” I tease. “I would stick around but I’m going on date number two with Taylor, and I need to shower.”

“Is tonight going to be the night?” Brett asks.

“Stop with the pressure,” I warn. “You just don’t get me.”

“So explain,” he urges, and he isn’t being a jerk so I indulge him.

“Growing up, girls didn’t want me. They started wanting me because of hockey. Because I was a popular athlete who was going to make it to the NHL. You remember all the talk in the papers about me drafting at eighteen?”

He nods.

“It came with a lot of pressure. I was always in the spotlight. No chick has ever wanted to get to really know me. They don’t care what I think. They just want to get me off and maybe become Mrs. Bardot because of my salary.”

“So?” Brett shrugs.

“Brett, it must get old at some point for you,” I say to him.

---