Page 5 of Nanny for the Athletes

“Because Pickles is well-behaved,” I replied. “And he only has one dog.”

“Mine behave themselves.”

I gave Logan a skeptical look.

“Well, three of them do,” he grumbled while putting the pizza down in the kitchen. “I don’t have to bring Loki.”

“Two dogs in my apartment is already a lot,” I said. “I don’t want my hardwood floors getting scratched.”

Logan picked up both pizza boxes again and unceremoniously dumped them in the trash can. “Oh no. I just remembered that I forgot the pizza.”

“Bro!” Braden said, pulling the boxes out. “Don’t deny me pizza just because Christian loves his apartment so much. Collective punishment is against the Geneva Conventions.”

Logan and I exchanged a look. “Braden? When did you learn about the Geneva Conventions?” I asked.

Braden brushed off the boxes and grabbed a second slice. “One of the journalists covering the Colts mentioned it today on Twitter. He said a loss like that should be a violation of the Geneva Conventions. So I looked it up. Did you know there’s, like, a wholebunchof stuff you can’t do during war?”

“Don’t pay attention to social media,” Logan grumbled while opening a beer from the fridge.

“I already tried to tell him,” I said while getting my own pizza. “He refuses to listen.”

Logan sank into the recliner next to the couch. “The fuck are we watching baseball for?”

“We were avoiding SportsCenter,” I said.

Logan changed the channel. “It’s hockey highlights, now.” He let out a long growl. “Fucking Blackhawks.”

“Why are you complaining? You won,” I pointed out.

“Refs broke up my fight with that cunt Vasili. I only got to knock one of his teeth out.”

“It must be nice playing for a franchise that isn’t unanimously hated,” Braden said, returning to the couch. Both Pickles and Heidi immediately sat on their haunches in front of him, watching intently while he ate.

Logan downed half his beer in three long gulps. “Fuck what the people say. Most locals are glad to have football back in St. Louis.”

“Based on what they’re saying online,” Braden replied, “they aren’t glad at all. I have a hundred DMs from fans ridiculing me for dropping that pass in the third quarter. As if I wasn’t fighting double coverage the whole time.”

Logan’s close-cropped red beard made it tough to tell, but I knew the man well enough to recognize thetiniesthint of a smile. “I bet you’re used to men sliding into your DMs and negging you,” he said to Braden.

“He could turn off DMs from accounts he doesn’t follow, but he chooses not to,” I added with my own smile. “I think he likes gettinggangedup on by random dudes.”

“Sounds like it,” Logan agreed.

“Hey, no judgment here,” I quickly said. “If getting harassed by the entire male population of St. Louis is the only way you can get an erection, that’s cool. This is a safe space for you, Braden.”

“Man, fuck you guys,” Braden said with a laugh. He broke his pizza crust in half, and tossed one piece to each dog. “I’ve got plenty of women in my DMs.Plenty.”

“Are they pissed you dropped that third quarter pass, too?” I asked.

“Nah, bro. They’re thirsty. Check this chick out.”

He held out his phone to show me. I took the phone from him and clicked on the profile. “Uh, Braden? This is a catfish account.”

“What? No it’s not.”

“It is a catfish,” I insisted, “because that’s a photo of Gina Lynn. The porn star.”

Logan leaned over to look and began chuckling. Braden took back his phone and frowned at the screen. “Maybe it’s actually her, but she’s using a fake name so horny internet guys don’t bother her.”

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