Page 50 of Face Off
“That’s what I usually get. The pickles on the side really bring it all together.” He glances to his left and smiles at the woman with graying hair and an apron around her waist approaching our table. “Hi, Mama Darla.”
“There’s my sweet boy.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “How did the game go?”
“Not great, but there will be plenty more.” His eyes bounce over to me. “Mama D, this is Emerson Hartwell. She’s our new left winger, and a first timer at The Nook. Thought she might need some comfort food to cheer her up after today.”
Darla’s mouth drops open. “Oh, heavens. Some of the boys come in here after games or on their days off, and I was hoping I’d get to meet you. My granddaughter is a big fan.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
“Would you—is it okay if— ” Darla fumbles with the order pad in her pocket and hands it to me. “Could you sign something for her?”
“I’d love to. What’s her name?”
“Lydia. She has red hair just like you.”
“Another fire girl.” I write out a quick note to her, adding a heart and my signature. “There you go.”
“Thank you, darlin’. This means a lot. Now. What can I get y’all to eat?”
When she leaves, Maverick gives me a sly look.
“See?” he says.
“See what?”
“Mama D doesn’t care you had a bad game and neither does Lydia. You just made her day.”
“You might be right.”
“I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“You might be right,” I repeat, louder this time.
“Hartwell thinks I’m right,” Maverick announces to the mostly empty diner. “I’m on top of the world!”
I slide down the booth and hide my face. “I’m never spending time with you again.”
“Not a single person looked up from their newspapers.” His knee knocks against mine under the table and I pull my leg away. “You could act like the biggest idiot in the world and no one would know.”
“You would know,” I say, and his grin is sharp.
“We could keep it our little secret—kind of like you and this sweet side of yours. You show everyone your tough exterior, but I’m starting to see what’s underneath.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Signing an autograph. Calling Lydia a fire girl—which she is. She’s eight and an absolute hellion. Asking about my arena tour with Rachel. You’re nice,Hartwell, and I’m not sure what to do with that information.”
I ball up a napkin and throw it in his face. “Fuck you.”
“There she is. That’s more like it.” Maverick puts his hands behind his head and gets comfortable. “Do you want to ask your question of the day first, or should I kick us off? We’re not in a team setting, so our normal rules apply.”
“You can go first,” I tell him.
“What did you want to be when you were growing up?”
“Of all the things you could ask, you go with one about my childhood?”
“Patience, Red. I’ve got 495 questions left. I’ll get to all of them eventually. I’m not in a rush.”
