“That’s a nice shirt, Ryan.” She eyed it as I thanked her for the compliment. “Now, I haven’t seen that one at Macy’s or Nordstrom’s. Nikki’s father wears nothing but Polo shirts on the golf course. He has just about every color.” I nodded and hoped she wouldn’t reveal my factory second shirt. “He has a navy one, but the horse is red.” I looked down at the white horse and jockey rider on the left side of myshirt.
“Maybe it’s last year’s color. You know how they do seasonal shirts with different color horses, dear,” her fathersaid.
I seriously couldn’t believe that we spent half the dinner talking about the fuckingshirt.
“Yes, dear. I’m aware of their seasonal colored shirts, but they never have it in navy. They do for the summer pastels, but never the navy staplecolor.”
“Mom, Dad, can we stop with the shirt talk, please?” Nikki asked. “Ryan didn’t come over to hear you guys talk aboutshirts.”
“You’re right, Nikki,” her mother agreed and took another glance at my shirt. “It’s a very nice shirt,Ryan.”
“Thank you,” I thanked her again for the shirtcompliment.
“Ryan, how much longer do you have at UNLV?” her dadasked.
“Well, I’d like to say three semester’s worth, but it’ll probably be more likefour.”
“Four? Why four? Didn’t you just finish your juniorsemester?”
I quickly swallowed and took a sip of water from what I guessed were expensivegoblets.
“Sort of. See, because I was on the baseball team for my first two years of college, my spring semesters were limited to just sixcredits.”
“Just six? Why justsix?”
“The athletic department and school advise their athletes to take a lighter load during the semester of their sport. That way we can dedicate our time to the sport, but our grades won’t suffereither.”
“Sounds like the schools use their athletes,” his momsaid.
“They do, dear. They’re breeding grounds for training students to become machines. They shoot them up, give them steroids and push them until they can get all that they can out of them. Some go on to be professional athletes and probably drop out. Then they’re washed up by thirty with nothing to fall back on because they took basket weaving while in school.” Her father paused to shove more food in his mouth. “Then they’re addicted to crap and supplements to build muscle mass, and they’re downing pain killers or shooting itup.”
“Dear watch your language in front of our guest,” Nikki’s mother scolded her husband for using the word “crap” at the dinnertable.
“Did they push steroids onyou?”
“No. No,sir.”
“Did you build your muscles naturally or with protein and supplements?” he continued to grillme.
“I built everything I have from working out in the gym andswimming.”
“Swimming? Did you grow up with a nice sizedpool?”
“No, sir. No pool. I spent a lot of time in my youth on the beach and in theocean.”
“Mmm,” his mom chimed in and pointed her fork as she quickly swallowed to contribute something further. “I hear those beaches are riddled with needles, drugs and homeless. Did you ever see any of that while playing in thesand?”
Jesus fucking Christ. I wondered what they’d do if I blurted thatout.
“No, ma’am. I never came across needles on thebeach.”
The truth was that I had. I had seen needles and used condoms on the shore and under the pier, but I had enough sense not to touchthem.
“But homeless? You sawthem?”
I nodded. For God’s sake, she acted like they were walking demons that would take everything in her precioushome.
“Don’t give to them ever, Ryan. They are capable of working. They’re just lazy,” her momsaid.
