Page 84 of The Alternate Captain
A buzzer sounds, announcing the start of the session.
“Then why did you get a haircut?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“Because I needed a damn haircut. Quit it.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Well, it’s the truth. I have my hair cut every five weeks. Live with it.”
We argue back and forth before I cut the conversation and switch it to Dad, since putting the focus on him takes the heat away from me.
“He’s due on Friday, you remember?” I say. “He wants to catch my game on Saturday.”
“He’s never cared about your games, John. Why would he care now?” Vicky drones.
“Jayne’s interested by all accounts.”
“How much do we know about Jayne?” she asks.
“I think she’s younger than him,” I say, immediately thinking about Kelly.
Is the look on Vicky’s face judgement? Is she judging Dad? Would she judge me?
I don’t have time to think about it as the buzzer sounds and I’m getting ushered along to the next seat, opposite Kirsty. At least these two minutes will be relatively easy too. I’ve known Kirsty since I joined the team, and I don’t feel nervous at all.
“Hi, Johnny. Nice haircut,” she says.
“How’s it going? Were you coerced into coming too?”
“Sort of. But it’s fine.” She plays with the ends of hair as she talks. “I’m nervous.”
“How come? You’ve always come across as pretty confident.”
“Same as you, Johnny. So, are you hoping to meet someone on the off chance? Since you’re here?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“If it’s anything work related, maybe not. Since—”
“It’s not. I’ve sort of met someone, and I really like her. But I’ve fucked up.”
“Oh! Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Care to tell me the name of the lucky lady who’s broken through your shell, Johnny?” Kirsty says.
“I can’t. Honestly. Just in case. However, saying that... it’s probably a complete loss now, considering I was such a dick.”
Kirsty tilts her head to the side and studies me. “Want to tell me more about it? I may be able to help. Offer some advice or whatever.”
“Really?” I ask, probably sounding too excited.
“Yeah, sure. And I’ll keep it to myself,” she says. “Tick my box and get my number. Give me a shout when you want to talk.”
“Sure. Thanks.” I turn my checklist over to tick the box next to her name. Then I spot a list of questions to use as icebreakers, throwing one out at Kirsty for the fun of it.
“What’s your favourite sport?” I ask, flashing her a grin.
“Not hockey,” she says. “Let’s go with rugby.”
“Right.”
