Page 21 of The Shake Off

I didn’t reply; mostly because he was right, but also because there was nothing to say. And I was done talking about it.

“It’s Opening Day tomorrow, and you really need your head in the game,” he added unhelpfully.

“I know it is. Can we stop fucking talking about it now please?”

“You’re gonna forget about whatever that girl said?”

“Payton. Her name’s Payton.”

“I don’t fucking care.” He let go of the steering wheel and threw his hands up. “Just ignore it. Ignore her. Forget everything that happened yesterday.”

“Alright!” I snapped, and went back to my sulk.

We continued in silence, though every thirty seconds or so Parker turned to look at me, while I was trying to understand why it had bothered me so much, whyshe– Payton – was bothering me so much. It was like I could almost feel her slipping under my skin, uninvited and unwanted.

Parker drove past the stone arch of lions where lines were already forming for the first stadium tour of the day, or entry into the official Lions store which opened at nine a.m., and continued along the road until we reached the players’ entrance. There were no lines formed here yet.

As the season didn’t start until tomorrow it was quieter than usual, save for a small group of girls along one side of the barricades holding up Jupiter Reeves posters, and a family with kids on the other. But on game days, it would be six rows thick with fans, while the overspill would stretch along the outer walls to the Hudson.

We both saluted to Joe, the security guard on duty today, and drove through to the parking lot. The second Parker cut the engine, he turned to me.

“Dude, you gonna be okay?”

“You’re the one making a bigger deal about this than me,” I grumbled.

“Okay.” He held his hands up in defense. “I’m done talking. Now, can we go inside, workout, then meet with the coaches while you rest this bad boy for tomorrow?” he asked and punched me lightly on my pitching arm.

I pushed the car door open, and grabbed my bag. “Fuck, yes.”

“Good morning, fellas,” greeted Pablo, the guard on the desk. “All ready for the big day tomorrow?”

“Sure are, man,” Parker grinned in reply, slinging his arm around me as he did and making sure we walked as quickly as possible past Pablo before he saw the look on my face – or struck up a conversation where I’d spill my woes, and bum out another person as much as I’d bummed out Parker.

He needn’t worry, I had no plans to spill my woes or humiliate myself to anyone else.

“That’s what I like to hear. Have a good one, boys.”

“Thanks, Pabs,” Parker called behind him as I shrugged his arm off my shoulder.

Instead of rushing us down the hallway as he’d done to get us through reception, he slowed our steps on the approach to the training facility.

As one, we flung open the swinging doors that lead down to the locker rooms; Parker on the right, me on the left, both of us pretending we were John Wayne.

We did it every single time we passed through here.

I shot him a wry smile.

“There he finally is.”

I stopped in front of the fridges lined along the walls of the locker rooms. “Want a water?”

“Yes,” he replied, catching the bottle I threw to him. “Thanks.”

“You wanna hit the treadmill, then weights?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Remind me to book a session with the PT too, my glutes are still feeling it from last week.”

“Sure.”

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