Page 83 of The Alternate Captain
But today, it’s not helping.
I turn my phone off in case he tries to call back. Then I get out of my car and kick the front driver’s side tyre hard, hoping that’ll help. It doesn’t. It angers me more. So, the only thing left to do is head to the rink, where I can cocoon myself.
I head back to my building to grab my gear, finding Bettsy outside the open door of Danny and Ryan’s apartment. His head swivels towards the stairwell when I walk through.
“Why don’t you ever answer your phone?” he says.
“I was busy,” I snap.
“You okay, Cap?” Danny asks, stepping out of his apartment.
“Yep. I’m off to the rink. If anyone wants to join me, you’re not welcome.”
“Well, that’s rude. Besides, it’s out of action today. They’re replacing some of the glass and have a load of workmen there,” Bettsy says.
“Who told you that?” I ask, unlocking my door.
“If you bothered to check your messages...” He says goodbye to Danny and follows me towards my door. “Question, what are you doing tonight?”
“Not going speed dating, if that’s where this is going.”
“But Ffordey can’t make it. Danny told me he’s got plans and I can’t go on my own, Johnny. Come on, man.”
“Not happening.”
“Please, Johnny?”
Three hours later, Bettsyand I are standing against the back wall of a social club, sizing up the room. Bettsy’s got his new teeth, and he’s ironed his shirt; while I’ve lost my will to live.
“Hey, isn’t that the guy who plays field hockey or something?” Bettsy says, pointing towards a gap in the crowd. “Barry, wasn’t it?”
“Vicky’s date from last Christmas? It looks like, yeah,” I say.
“Well, if he’s the best of the bunch, we shouldn’t have any problems finding someone.” Bettsy’s grinning when he looks at me, but his expression drops to a frown. “Right, what the fuck is going on with you? I know you’re usually in a mood about something, but this is ridiculous.”
“I—”
“Alright, or what?” Bettsy says when Vicky and Kirsty, the girl from HR, come to a stop next to us.
“Fancy seeing you here, dear brother,” Vicky says.
I honestly don’t know how I agreed to this. The embarrassment I felt prior to seeing Vicky was bad enough, and now I’m completely mortified.
“Vicky.”
I don’t look directly at her, afraid that she’ll see right into my bad mood and ask me fifty questions.
“He’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Bettsy says as Vicky glances around.
But all of our attention is pulled to the host, who starts giving us a rundown of the event. We’re told the men will rotate seats after each buzzer, allowing us two minutes per person.
“I’ll get us a match card each,” Bettsy says, as we’re ushered towards our seats.
But it’s clear that Vicky is on to me when she sits herself opposite me for the first ‘date.’
“You don’t date,” she says.
I shrug. “Bettsy didn’t want to come alone.”
