Page 71 of Call the Shots
“Deal me in.”
“Goddammit.” Bear shoved more clothes in the next washing machine. “Charlie, your clothes smell like ass!”
“That’s the smell of aman!”
Bear straightened out jeans, dug in pockets, and measured out detergent while I made sure he wasn’t ruining anyone’s laundry. At the last one, Bear pressed the button for a heavy load before cheers erupted from his team. He scowled over his shoulder, eliciting laughter.
“I have more but the machines are busy,” he complained.
“You’ll have to wait.” I held up my phone for everybody to see. “Who wants pizza?”
“You can’t feed a hockey team,” Fridge warned. “Your life’s savings will collapse.”
“It’s the best part of having rich parents. I have a credit card for food.” I shrugged. “As long as I don’t go overboard, my mom won’t call. What do we want?”
The guys clamored to put in their order while Bear pulled out wet clothes for the dryer. “Your parents gave you an entire credit card for food?”
“Groceries and gas. The G&G card.”
I could feel his questions brimming. It was so weird. His family knew me, his neighbors knew me, his brother certainly knew me, and I knew so much about Bear already… Sometimes I forgot he didn’t know me at all.
“Do you know who Freddie Basil is? Gorham Lewis?”
Bear frowned. “Gorham?”
“Freddie Basil is my dad, he’s running for mayor in November, and the Basils arerich-rich. Gorham Lewis was my mom’s dad, he was a senator for Delaware for alongtime.”
“That explains the G&G card.”
“It was this or secret service. I chose wisely.”
“What, you’re a small-time Kennedy? One day you’ll be campaigning for office?”
“No, I don’t want to be the main face. My dream was to be the first lady.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, thinking about the vision boards I made with Xavier. “Two kids by twenty-four, becoming the perfect, electable nuclear family, help write the speeches, run the campaigns?—”
“Your goal is to be somebody’swife?”
Suddenly, I remembered who I was talking to. Why would I tell Bear any of this?
“Fuck you,” I retorted.
“Your big dream is to decorate the White House for Christmas?”
“Yours is concussions on the ice and that stops when you’re thirty.”
“Yours also stops when you’re thirty and your husband finds an intern in heels.”
I clapped my hands. “Boys, get your blankets from upstairs, Bear’s washing linens too.”
The hockey players perked up from the card games, homework, and loud conversations to head to their dorms.
“Goddammit,” Bear swore.
Denali stopped by to clap Bear on the back. “You’re a team player, Bear.”
“Suck a dick, Denali.”
Now,thiswas an apology. I grinned, cracking open my textbook for another class I shouldn’t have failed. I didn’t make it to the second page before Bear returned, his eyebrows furrowed.
