Page 13 of Shift Change

Before he could answer, a woman appeared out of nowhere and launched herself at him. He caught her midair, laughing like it was just another Thursday—and knowing Holky, it probably was.

It turned out she worked at the bar. They shot the shit like old drinking buddies, and when he introduced me, she gave me a once-over and asked if we wanted a table. I didn’t see how there could be one open in that crowd, but she led us to a spot tucked in a back corner, away from the worst of the chaos.

Holky slid into his seat and leaned over the table. “I admit to being a beer snob, and I assure you the microbrews are terrific.”

“That’s good to hear. In Syracuse, I was the only guy on the team with beverage standards. The rest of them would chug nail polish remover if you told them it was eight percent alcohol.”

He laughed. “Sounds like a hockey team to me. What do you like?”

“IPA. They have a good one?”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.“A man with discerning taste, I see. IPA is my favorite too, and as you can guess from the name, Revolution Hops makes one of the best.”

He flagged down a passing server and ordered two pints of something called Mosaic Majesty. When she came back with the beer, she handed me mine and then practically dropped to one knee and proposed to Holky. She gushed about how much she loved watching him play. He thanked her, but his smile dimmed when she started a play-by-play of every goal he’d scored in the last month. With a technique I needed to study, he gently brushed her off—smooth and polite, yet unmistakably final. It didn’t matter because I was willing to bet she’d circle back for another round.

He held up his pint for a toast. “To my new buddy and roommate. May we be very happy together.”

I chuckled. “Big commitment. Are we getting a dog next, or should we start with houseplants?”

“I was thinking about a goldfish,” he deadpanned, “but a ficus tree would look good in the living room.”

We tapped glasses, and I said, “To having a lot of fun together, and to kicking ass Saturday night.”

He leaned back after we took our first sips, looking self-satisfied. “What do you think?”

“Not sure. Need a little more to decide.” I considered screwing with him and pretending the drink wasn’t up to my usual standards, but I was in love after two sips. “This is the best beer I’ve had in ages. Great call.”

Holky saluted me with his glass. “Drinking with a friend is hard work, but somebody’s got to do it.”

We focused on our beers, and since the band was good, we were soon drumming along. Hoping to get us talking again, I said, “You’re a table percussionist too.”

“Hell yes. Can’t help myself when the tunes are catchy.”

“Most people get annoyed and tell me to stop. Think we’ll drive each other crazy?”

“Nah.” He finished his drink and shook his head. “I think we’ll be good together.”

“Hi, guys, how’s it going?”

Holky and I glanced up at two women standing by our table, a blonde and a brunette; they looked to be in their early twenties and were beaming like they’d hit the jackpot. The blonde spoke first. “I’m Willa, and this is Braelynn.” She barely spared her friend a glance, keeping her laser-like gaze locked on Holky. “Mind if we join you?”

Holky quirked his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged. Before we could answer, they helped themselves into the empty chairs. Willa claimed the seat beside Holky, while Braelynn took the one next to me. She wasted no time scooting closer until her thigh was flush against mine, and then she planted a hand on my arm. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Chuck,” I answered, keeping it short. “How’s it going?”

“Better now. We were sitting over there with our boring friends.”

She nodded toward a nearby table, where three other women were watching us with the worst attempt at subtlety I’d seen since middle school. The second I looked their way, they ducked their heads and laughed. Holky and I exchanged a knowing smirk. We’d both played this game before, and I could already guess what was coming.

Willa tightened her grip on Holky like he might try to escape. “You two are alone, right?”

“We were.” He put on an amused smile. “Not anymore.”

“You’re Nate Holcomb, aren’t you?” Willa leaned into him like a human seat belt. “You play for the Warriors?”

“I do.” He inched left, but Willa mirrored the move. “What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m a senior at Canisius.”

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