Chapter 16

: Brandon

I expect a little flak from Coach Janssen or the rest of the team about my sudden vacation, but no one says anything to me. It’s like they didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.

Maybe they’re already convinced I’m getting fired.

My dad’s going to have a field day with this one.

Today, everyone is focused on Callaghan Entay and his return from the Global Games. While the U.S. National Team did better than predicted, they lost in the round of 8. As I walk by Entay, I say, “If I’d been on the National Team, we’d probably have made it to the semifinals.”

I don’t know why I say it, other than no one is paying attention to me. It’s as if I’m made of glass and they can see right through me.

Entay doesn’t look up from tying his cleats when he retorts, “So you could blow it by getting a penalty in the box and then whiffing your shot in the kickoff?”

Touché.

I’m about to let it slide when Landon Stubbs breaks out in a guffaw. “Ooh, he got you, didn’t he?”

Andy Bracer chimes in. “It’s totally your fault we lost in the semifinals last year. You should have been fined. Or fired.” Andy plays left wing. There are midfielders who score more than he does.

Suddenly I’m the center of attention, but this isn’t the type of attention I want. I snap, “Samson missed his PK too. Go give him some shit.”

It’s true. In the semifinals for the USSL National Championship last year, it was a one-one tie after regulation play. We went into overtime and neither team scored, so it was onto the penalty kicks. Both Pressley Samson and I missed ours. Callaghan Entay only stopped one of five shots the Miami Wave had.

It’s just as much their fault as it is mine.

But I get the blame. Story of my life.

There’s no more squabbling as it’s time to get to work. As practice winds down, I see Callaghan approaching. I’m not in the mood for more shit and more finger-pointing. “Can I talk to you a minute?” His tone is serious.

Great. Callaghan’s also the captain, which means I’m probably going to be censured or benched or fined or some other bullshit. I take a deep breath in, ready to defend myself, when Callaghan starts. “Okay, this is weird, but my girlfriend asked me to talk to you.” Callaghan looks at his feet, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

There’s only one thing I can think of that would make a dude this uncomfortable. I hold up my hands. “Listen man, I’m flattered and all, but I’m not gonna have a threesome with a teammate, I don’t care how much his lady wants me. You don’t shit where you eat. You should probably remember that.” I cock my head. “You know, I didn’t think Hannah was the type to be into that.

Entay’s head whips up. “No, Jesus, no. That’s not what I was talking about at all.” A shudder runs through his body. It almost looks as if he chokes back a gag. “Anyway, as I was saying, Hannah asked me to set up a meeting with you. She does social media stuff, and she had an idea to help improve your image and all.”

I cock my head to the side. Now there’s a thought. Maybe if she could make me look better online, they’ll take me off probation here. “Is she any good at it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure if anyone is good enough to help you. You’re your own worst enemy.”

“I am not. I’m fine. Other people just can’t handle my level of honesty. Those are the people with something to hide.”

“Those are the people with an internal filter. You should think about getting one.”

“Can I buy it on Amazon?”

Entay shakes his head, turning away. “I’m going to text you the information. Just show up, shut up, and try to not stick your foot in your mouth for a few minutes. She might be able to help you, and from how the front office is talking, you need all the help you can get right about now.”

Fuck, he’s right.

Entay does know his shit on and off the field. I look up his girlfriend on ClikClak. She’s got an impressive following. Her bio reads: Sports Analyst, New England Patriots Social Media Manager, Funny Dog Parody Videos.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to her.

Her dog videos are pretty funny, so at least she’s upfront and honest about that. Something doesn’t sit right with me though. Why does she want to meet with me? I mean, shouldn’t I be seeking her out, not the other way around?

I’ll go in with my guard up. That’s the standard resting position for me anyway. Living my life with the family I have—you only get hurt by opening up. It may be one reason why I’m so honest and blunt. I know people can’t handle me right away, instead of investing time and energy only to be deserted.

Entay texts me the name of a restaurant, along with the time. I google it only to find out the place is in Charlestown. Shit, that’s a hike.

I text him back.

Me: Why we gotta go all the way up there?

Entay: Why you gotta question everything? Just be there. Or don’t. It’s not my career on the line

When he puts it that way ...

It takes me almost an hour to drive there. This had better be worth it. It’s right by The Garden, so parking is a pain. They don’t even have valet. I don’t have a good feeling about this. I mean, the place looks okay. It looks like the type of place I would pick—if it were in my neighborhood. I bet they have good steaks. The late-July night has cooled down enough that sitting outside would be nice.

I see Callaghan waiting at the host station. “We should grab a table outside.” I nod my head toward the brick patio.

He shakes his head. “We’re this way.”

“Come on, man. It’s nice and there are tables out there.”

Entay stops. “Jesus, Nix, can’t you do anything without an argument?”

I hold up my hands. “No need to get your panties in a wad. It just looked nice out there. It’s not a big deal. You don’t need to overreact.”

I get this sort of thing a lot. People expect me to fly off the handle or fight them, so they fight first. Maybe ... just maybe ... this is something I should bring up to Watson Ross. Like, why are people always picking a fight with me, when I haven’t even done anything?

It’s obviously a them problem.

Still, he should be able to teach me a magic saying, like “slow your roll” or something to keep people from being wound too tightly around me.

I follow Entay through the restaurant to a back room. Where the restaurant itself is dark wood, polished tile, black accents, and cast in a red hue from the awnings that overhang all the windows, this room looks like something out of a dollhouse. The wood is lighter. There are greens and pinks and flowers.

Yuck.

And then I see Andi Nichols sitting at a back corner booth with Hannah LaRosa. Double yuck.

For Andi, not Hannah. I don’t have a reason to think that way about Hannah yet, but I have a feeling I’ll get there soon enough. After all, we’re in a storybook setting, and she brought a person who hates me.

This is not going to go well.