Page 20 of The Alternate Captain
“I referred to Dvorák’s Cello Concerto in B minor as ‘great,’”I groan into my pillow.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The sharp intake of breath he draws in is enough to validate that it was a completely ridiculous thing to say.
“And I droned on about camaraderie and crap.”
“Oh, shit. Well, I’m sure they won’t even take notice of that.”
I crane my head to look at him. “I’m not talking about it anymore.”
Tom pushes his glasses up his nose and leans closer. “The others will be back soon. Let’s go for drinks.”
“Can’t. I’m working tonight.”
“Ah, yeah. Well, I’ll go for drinks to commiserate on your behalf.”
I nudge him off my bed and climb under the covers, desperate to hide away from the world and pretend like the past twenty-four hours never happened. But after Tom pecks me on the forehead and pulls the curtains closed like the best friend he is, all I can think about is John. Because if we were still chatting, I would have told him all about it and he’d say the right thing to brighten my mood.
And that memory alone has me bawling into my pillow.
We spent almost allday at the driving range before piling into our cars. I drove mine so I wouldn’t have to be seen in Ryan’s team-branded Ford; even on this side of the city, it attracts unwanted attention. I slide behind the wheel, waiting for Prez to ride shotgun and for Bettsy, Danny, and Hutch to pile into the back.
“Ffordey and Jonesy are going to shoot some pool. I told them we’re in.” Ryan tugs the passenger door closed and pulls on his seat belt. “Is it alright if Jen comes along too?” There’s a shuffling from the backseat as Danny wrestles with his own belt. “She’s not bringing anyone else,” Ryan says, probably for Danny’s sake.
Danny and Jen’s friend Becca were hooking up for a while at the start of the season, but from what I gather, it’s over.
“I was going to hit the gym,” I say. “But I can drop you off before heading home.”
Ryan chuckles. “You’re not getting out of this, bud. You can do that later. Take a left at the lights.” He taps the console and I pull out of the parking lot as we follow Jonesy’s car.
“Hey, did anyone notice the rookie’s shot today? It’s definitely improved. I mean, for a D-man, he could have taken the last few swings blindfolded.” Hutch leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Even with a large backseat, three guys crammed in the back looks ridiculous.
Ryan grins like a proud parent. Ever since Simon Pearce, one of the home-grown guys, announced his imminent retirement, it’s given Coach the chance to call up one of the kids waiting for his chance, and adjust the roster a little bit. Harrison Yates, or as we call him, the kid, the rookie, or ‘Yatesy the kid’ if he’s having a good day. He’s sharp and he’s got potential.
“I’ve been helping him with his wrist control,” Ryan says.
“I feel for the kid, though. I mean, he’ll spend most of the playoffs sitting on the bench. Been there, done that,” Danny says.
“Nah, he’ll get a few shifts. We’ve all gotta start somewhere, right?” Bettsy nudges Hutch aside. “Cap, can you drop me off on the corner? I think my sister’s working tonight and—”
“You have a sister?” Danny asks.
“Yes, and before you get any ideas, no.”
“She’s cute,” Hutch says.
“Fuck off,” Bettsy says. “Whatever anyone is thinking, it ends now. I’m not afraid to break legs.”
“Here?” I pull over and put my hazard lights on.
“I’ll meet you at the pool hall.” Bettsy hops out, closes the door behind him, and rounds the back of the car, heading into a high street supermarket store.
I drive on, taking the next left when Ryan gives me the direction and I pull into a parking lot at the end of the street. Jen’s waiting outside the pool hall.
“Hey, Johnny. How are you feeling?” she asks as we approach.
“Why is everyone asking me this?”
“It’s just a question,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
