I shifted my weight, suddenly very aware of the cameras, the lights, the way everyone leaned in just a fraction closer. “My dad had his own career,” I said slowly. “People are entitled to their opinions about him, but I’m not him.”
“And you?” the reporter pressed. “How are you feeling after a game like this?”
I thought about the boos. About New Jersey players attempting to rattle me. About the one clean shift that actually worked.
“I’m frustrated we lost,” I said. “But I’m settling in. I’m learning my way. That takes reps, and I hope that I get the chance to take this into the next pre-seasons, and hopefully into the season itself.”
The reporter sneered—honest to godsneeredat my words—but didn’t have the balls to say that he imagined I’d be heading down to the AHL. I stared right back at him, even as I began to crumble inside.
A pause. Then the question I’d been waiting for without wanting it.
“Do you worry you’ll always be compared to the man who nearly killed generational talent Tennant Rowe?”
How many times did I need to say this? I looked straight ahead, jaw tight, and repeated the only thing that felt honest tonight.
“I’m not my father.”
EIGHT
Cam
“…thinking that we should maybe head to Thessaloniki first and then spend a few days in Kalamata before we head to Patras for family time.”
I nodded along, not really hearing what Yanni was saying as my sight was locked on the fans filing in to watch the bullpen warm-up session. We’d already completed my pre-pregame routine and were now dressed and ready for the last game of a mediocre season.
I’d dropped a subtle hint into a text to Jari that this was the season finale tonight, so if he was feeling like he wanted to, he could come early and enjoy a night at the field. Nothing too pushy, I hoped, just a short text suggesting he see the tail end of batting practice, enjoy five-dollar happy hour beers—in much smaller cups than usual—and discounted pizza. He’d replied withsure, followed by a smiling emoji.
So now I was casually scanning the Iron Horse faithful standing above us, many leaning over the upper rail. Some came down lower and stood in the corner behind a chain-link fence that got them within arm’s length of the catchers. Lots of pictures were snapped. The diehard fans loved being close sothey could hear theclapof the ball in the catcher’s mitt after a pitch. Many said they could actually feel it.
“But then we could always just skip those hot spots for single men with lots of money and good looks and swim to Atlantis.”
“Sure,” I said, perusing the crowds, lots of kids waving, around the brim of my ballcap.
“Okay, what’s her name?” Yanni gave me a nudge, moving aside to allow the relief pitchers to enter the pen as they always follow the starter out. I shot him a confused look. “Or his name.”
“There’s no one. I’m just looking at the fans. Interacting. Being polite. Smiling. Waving at kids.”
“Uh-huh, so you’re down to swim to Atlantis for some mermaid love?” He stared at me while I stumbled around mentally. “Yeah, see, you weren’t paying a bit of attention. Listen, we’ve got to get the flights and itinerary down so I can tell Mama when we’ll be arriving in Greece. I was thinking we do the bachelor fun stuff first, instead of after seeing my family, so you don’t find an excuse to leave. That way we won’t be backed up sexually while dealing with my mother, aunts, and stupid brothers.”
“You do know that semen doesn’t actually back up, right?” He ignored me while someone above us shouted down to me that we were losers. That was nice. Thanks, buddy. “If it did, spunk would leak out of our eyes instead of tears. Also, you have a girlfriend now. Maybe you should discuss travel plans with Athena first?”
“Nah, that didn’t work out. We broke up. She had turtles for pets. Never mentioned a thing about the fucking turtles in a fucking little terrarium before I showed up to her place to get laid. I’m half naked, dick out, and I look around the bedroom, and there are two fucking turtles eyeballing my fucking junk.”
“You need to get over that turtle phobia. One little turtle bites your balls when you were six, and you’re still terrified of them.”
“No, no. I amnotscared of them. I don’t trust them. And it wasn’t a little turtle. It was a snapping turtle. Massive bitch. Could’ve taken off my left nut entirely. It was a close thing.”
What did a person say to that? “Okay, well, I’m sorry about Athena.” I slid my cap back and then smiled. Leaning over the rail was Jari and his two linemates. I lifted my gloved hand to wave.
“Meh. Easy come and easy go.” Yanni stood at my side. “So, about Greece. This is our tenth year, so we should do something special. Hitting all the hotspots filled with fine young women and men eager to bed rich jocks with big dicks.”
Jari held up an Iron Horses banner. The other two—I recognized his linemates, Mules and Becks. One had a beer, the other a slice of pizza. My gaze lingered on Jari. He looked good tonight. Relaxed. A week had passed since his episode on the sidewalk. We’d texted regularly, chatting about casual shit, never mentioning the anxiety attack. No shades this time, as it was nighttime, but a ballcap, one of ours, which set off his angular face to perfection. God, he was pretty.
“Then we should call up Vin Diesel to join us as we do our version ofFast & Furiousthrough Greece, but instead of hot rod cars we use go-carts and dress up like characters fromSuper Mario Brothers.I dibs Yoshi.”
“Sounds great.” I gave Jari a smile and a tap of my cap. He did the same thing back.
“Christ, this is going to be a long fucking game,” Yanni muttered, pulled his mask over his head, then down to cover his face, and stalked away muttering in Greek.
