Page 102 of Finding the Forward: Part Two
Getting a napkin, she piled fries into, then plopped down at our table, turning the chair backwards first. “Hello, boys.”
“Hi, Mercy. We’re still on?” Jonas asked, taking another bite of food.
“Yep. I forgot about the choreography workshop, but we’ll make it.” She stuffed fries in her face, looking around. The room also had an air hockey table, a large TV, and pictures of various retired Knights of note.
“Perfect. One of the rookies wanted me to help him with a few things on the ice anyway,” Jonas replied. “He’s afraid of being traded.”
I knew that feeling well. My eyebrows rose as I looked from Jonas to Mercy and back again. “Exactly what sort of mayhem are you two planning?”
“Alpha stuff.” She shoved more fries in her mouth.
Hmm, I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Have fun?” I was taking Dean out on a birthday date to see a sailing exhibit at the natural history museum.
Her eyes rested on a photo on the wall. “Why is there a necklace of noodles on the picture?”
“Ask Ladybug. Pretty sure she made it. That picture is of the queen of the goalies. First beta goalie in the PHL,” Jonas nodded.
“She’s one of Dean’s favorites. She publicly defended him when he was outed. EBUGs like her. When Dean was an EBUG, they sacrificed a lasagna to her. Back when I was with the Hurricanes, the EBUGs set a tiramisu on fire and released it into the ocean on a pyre,” I replied, taking a sip of my drink.
Mercy snorted. “Weirdos.”
Yep.
Her phone beeped. She checked it and rolled her eyes. “I have to get my ass to practice. So long and thanks for the fries.”
Stuffing the last of the fries in her mouth, she grabbed her smoothie and left.
Nia laughed and looked over at us. “How is living with a teenager who can bench more than you going?”
Jonas frowned at her. “Why does everyone say that? I can bench more than her.”
“Barely,” I chuckled. They’d had a contest the other day.
We ate our lunch, then left. “Car?” Jonas glanced at his phone. “Dean’s grabbing food with the goalies, then hitting the gym.”
Inside the SUV, I told him in greater detail about my conversation with Coach, then told him about the exchange between me and Mr. Longfellow.
Jonas rubbed his chin. “I don’t like it. The owner can’t ask you to drop a private lawsuit because he’s friends with them.”
“I know.” I leaned into him, seeking comfort, a little shaken.
Jonas wrapped his arms around me. “We’ll tell AJ, Stu, and our lawyer.”
“What if the charges against Chet don’t stick?” I buried my face in his shoulder, wishing AJ or Verity were here. But she was in class and AJ was at work.
He stroked my hair. “We’ll get him.”
That was more important than recovering the money he stole.
“I don’t understand what Mr. Longfellow meant about my playing.” A frown tugged at my lips. “I don’t need her to play a good game. She even told me as much.”
“No, you don’t,” Jonas agreed. “However, I saw your face when she wished you good luck in the tunnels that one night. Back on the plane, the night you met her, did she wish you a good game?”
“Yeah, she told me I’d smash it and play the best game ever. It’s not like she used her bark to make me play well.” Which was very illegal in athletics. I made a face, trying to honestly figure out what was going on.
“Grif, dearest?” Jonas tapped his forehead to mine. “She doesn’t need a bark. She’s yours. You would do anything for her, just like she would for you.”
