Chapter 6 James

A week after Liana rejected him, James paced nervously, waiting to see if Liana and Deb would show up at his class and hoping he hadn't fucked things up entirely. He figured his idiotic mouth had cost him. He knew as soon as he'd asked her out that he shouldn't have pushed her. This was only the second time she tried working out after surgery — a real accomplishment, a real mental and physical hurdle that she'd surmounted — and he'd blown away any pretense that his class would be a safe space for her to recover and focus on her health.

It was one minute until the class started, and James had resigned himself to losing Liana and Deb, when a gray Mazda pulled up next to the court and Liana hopped out. His heart did a little leap. So she was giving him a second chance he didn't deserve. He needed to clear the air, to let her know that he didn't expect anything from her, that he'd treat her just like any other student in his class.

"Liana, can I talk to you for a second?" He gestured for her to follow him to the corner of the court. When they made it far enough away from listening ears, he said immediately, "Look, I'm so sorry for asking you out. You were just here to enjoy a class with your mom, not to get hit on. And it was your first class back after a major surgery, for fuck's sake. I promise, it won't happen again. And I hope you can still feel safe with me, and know that giving you the best class possible is my only goal. I'm not looking for anything from you at all." He held out his hand for her to shake. "Friends?"

Was that a flicker of regret in her eye? But she shook his hand and smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Friends. And it's cool. No hard feelings."

"And from firsthand experience," he said, "I know it's not easy coming back from an injury or a surgery. All I want to do is support you."

"Thanks," she said, then turned to walk away, clearly wanting to end the conversation. Well, he reminded himself, that could have gone a lot worse. She could have told you to fuck off, or just not shown up for the class.

"All right, ladies," he shouted to the class. "It's time to get our pickle on! Let's start workin' for a gherkin!"

The senior citizens chuckled appreciatively. James would pull out all the stops today, all the bad puns he'd been saving up, just to see if Liana would crack a smile.

Liana seemed not to hold a grudge against him, and he caught her smiling after a couple of his jokes. When he high-fived her at the end of the hour, she murmured, "Great class," and he felt like he had won the lottery.

His good mood lasted most of his drive home, until his mom called. James accepted the call on his car's speakerphone. "Your dad is upset," his mom said without preamble.

"Why is that?" James asked.

"You told him you couldn't play in the charity golf tournament this weekend. You know he plays in that tournament every year."

"Yes, and he will still play in it this year."

"You know he wants to play with you. He had arranged for a group of four with Mr. Barker and his son. It will look bad if you are not there."

James rubbed his temple. Of course, his parents were all about appearances. "I gave Dad my pickleball tournament schedule months ago. He knew I would be out of town this weekend."

"For pickleball?"

"Yes, for a pickleball tournament."

"Oh, good. I thought it was for something you couldn't change, like a wedding. Just cancel your trip and play golf with your dad."

"I'm not going to cancel. I've already paid the registration fee. Plus, I've been looking forward to this tournament for months."

James heard a male voice over the phone, and then a rustling noise, before his father's voice boomed over the car speakers. "Son, I've told you a million times. If it's a question of money, we can give you some. You don't have to keep playing pseudo-sport tournaments in godforsaken towns."

"Dad, I've told you, I like playing pickleball. I like the tournaments. They're competitive but also fun. I have friends on the circuit. I like seeing them. I already canceled a tournament a few months ago to go to the Met Gala with you and mom because Mary Grace was giving me so much shit about it — and look how that turned out. She complained the whole time that I wasn't posing for enough pictures, and then she broke up with me soon after."

"Language," his mother cautioned.

James sighed, exasperated. "Look, if you want me here for something, we can talk about it when the tournament schedule comes out. But it's too late to change my schedule for this weekend. I enjoy playing pickleball, and I would really like for you to respect that."

"I do respect your hobbies," said his dad after a beat. "I'm glad you have hobbies, son. I wish — I just wish pickleball had a different name. I can't take it too seriously with that name. It sounds like an inside joke I don't understand."

Maybe that's for a reason , James thought. Some things in life should be fun . But he said, "I'm serious about pickleball, Dad. Thank you for respecting my choice. Also, our PHCC charity event is coming up in a few weeks, and then I'll be playing at that UHealth golf tournament with you the week after. Mr. Barker and all of your friends will have plenty of time to see me."

James heard both of his parents sigh. "All right," his mom finally said.