“And who are you?” I cringe at hearing Bex’s haughty voice. She’s a tough one and pretends she doesn’t know who Gray is every time he comes in, which is once a month.
“I own the place,” O’Keefe responds, and my feet move on autopilot to the doorway.
Bex gives him the once-over and glares at him. “No, you don’t.”
“I’ve come to check on my investment.” O’Keefe looks down his nose at her like the snob he is. He’s the worst.
“You’re here with a bunch of dumb hockey players. Did you hit your head and forget who you are?” she says sweetly.
“I’m unforgettable,” O’Keefe says, and his smile is so charming that my hand flies to my mouth.
“Fine.” Bex flicks her wrist at him. “I’ll allow you to volunteer here.”
“Your approval means everything,” O’Keefe says in a sugary-sweet voice.
“I know,” Bex calls over her shoulder and sashays out of the gym.
O’Keefe won over Bex in less than a minute. This has to be an alternate universe because Bex hates everyone. I wander back to the dining hall and help set up the buffet line.
Since I did the prep work, I can technically leave, but I like to hang out with the kids. They’re a reminder of who I would be without hockey. Getting scholarships for both high school and college changed my life. My parents would’ve tried to pay, but college is stupid expensive, and I would’ve never let them go into debt for me.
Without hockey, I’d no doubt be working full time and still trying to get a four-year degree. I’ve resented O’Keefe for all the things he was given, but it could’ve been so much worse for me, and I’m grateful for all that I have.
I’m sitting with a group of high schoolers arguing over the superiority of Marvel to DC. It’s entertaining to listen to them speak as if personal taste can be proven objectively.
There’s a stir near the door, and a hush spreads like poisonous gas through the room. Juan David and his best friend strut in. There are rumors he joined a gang, and the staff is worried about him.
He flicks Bex’s hair. “Let’s go.”
“I’m eatin’.” She gives him her back, and his face turns purple.
I rise halfway in my seat to defuse the situation. Juan David won’t tolerate what he perceives as disrespect.
To my shock, O’Keefe takes long strides over to them. “You her man?” he asks Juan David as he gestures to Bex.
Juan David puffs out his chest, and this is why Q Solutions has a no-weapons rule. “I am. Who are you?” he snarls.
Theo’s charming smile breaks free, and I’m frozen, still halfway out of my seat, watching this train wreck. “Bex has been talking about you nonstop. She told me you’d be here to have some sort of date night.” He makes a gagging sound. “I told her she’s living in a fantasy world. Ain’t no way that’s happening.” He’s grinning like this kid won’t jump him in an alley. “Oh, how rude. Sorry. I’m O’Keefe, the owner of the joint, and Bex has given me her permission to volunteer here.”
Juan David’s mouth is hanging open, and I don’t blame him. O’Keefe is unhinged.
But his little speech puts Juan David in an awkward situation. He has to choose between making Bex leave, which, with all of us here, this is not the night. Or prove O’Keefe wrong and sit his ass down and act right toward Bex.
I rise slowly so I don’t upset the balance of tension. They’re staring at each other with a silent challenge. Both O’Keefe and Juan David hate to be challenged and disrespected.
In hockey, O’Keefe takes constructive criticism as an attack. I’ve never said anything, and it’s not my place. In this situation, a bully knows how to stand up to other bullies.
“Sit or go?” his best friend mutters, disguising his words around a cough.
Juan David’s eyes break from O’Keefe’s, and he takes in the rest of the room in a split second. There are ten big hockey players and the staff. He can challenge O’Keefe to a fight, but then he’ll get himself banned from the center. And he’ll probably lose Bex.
He squints at O’Keefe but says to Bex, “I’ll get a plate, you sit over there.” Juan David points to the end of a half-empty table.
“You got me, Bex. You know your man.” O’Keefe’s laugh is joyless and loud. He doesn’t take his eyes off Juan David and his friend as they approach thebuffet. But I can’t stop staring at Theo as he rounds the other side of the room, putting him closer to me and where the boys will exit the food line.
Words my mom said ring in my ears about hurt people hurting other people and how a difficult reputation can follow you.
Theo’s behavior makes sense if you look at it from the perspective of a person who has been neglected or hurt. It’s easier to be the first one to leave than to get left behind. He lashes out at the tiniest slights, muttering under his breath, and instead of taking responsibility for a mistake, he’ll tell you all the good things he’s done. For all I know, no one ever told him he did a good job.
