“Tenley just shut up and mind your own business for once!” I bark.
“He’s my nephew. He is my business!” she snaps. “I may never have kids, okay? You having some one day was my only hope.”
Whoa. I did not expect that to come out of her mouth or for her eyes to start filling with tears. Tenley turns away from me, wiping at her eyes, but she continues talking. “I didn’t expect you to have one now, while I was in college, and you still have the emotional intelligence of a potato, but hey. Whatever. Dylan is here and Mom and Dad will love him, like I do. To pieces. The whole family will if you fucking let them!”
“I just need the paternity results, Ten. And then to tell the coach and PR.”
“He’s had more trauma than any kid should have already, so don’t make it worse by hiding him from the world and being a dad who fails on purpose,” Tenley barks at me, hands on her tiny hips. “What the fuck, Tate. You’re a Garrison. We don’t fail. Especially not on purpose.”
“Stop with your melodramatics.” I sigh. “For the record, you constantly on my ass about everything is not helping.”
“Are you going to stop trying to score? Are you going to miss the net on purpose?”
I stare at my perfectly hung suits. “Yes. Okay? If the lawyer can’t get the birth certificate sorted before the end of the season, then yes.”
“Why?”
I sigh, close my eyes, and turn to face her. She's standing by the built-in dresser. Her glare has softened and she just looks confused more than irate. "They want to do this big ceremony, even if I just tie the stupid record and bring Mom and Dad here and it will be a thing. I can't risk that so… I can't break the record."
"I know. Someone named Christine already contacted me about it all," Tenley replies. "She wants me at the last game of the season. I called Mom and they've been invited too. It's supposed to be a surprise."
“What?” I shake my head. “No. No. I said fucking no!”
“Deep breaths,” Tenley reaches out and grips my bare shoulders firmly. “You should have the DNA results soon and then the lawyer can work overtime to get the new birth certificate. And besides, Tate, Mom and Dad aren’t going to care about all that shit.”
“Fuck. I have to tell the coach tonight.” I start to pace. “And Christine or Adam, her boss. Both. Probably both. She is the one who sent me the video by the way.”
“You’re sleeping with a Quake employee?” Tenley asks. “Even I know that’s not smart.”
“I’m not. I haven’t in a while, but we don’t have a fraternization policy so it’s not like it’s wrong,” I reply. “Ten, can you leave now? I have a lot to deal with.”
She hesitates but turns and starts to leave. I grab the pieces of my favorite suit, a charcoal and navy one with muted checks, a white shirt, and a navy tie. When I move back into the bedroom to lay it out before my shower, Tenley is still standing by the door. I’m about to bark at her to leave again, but she levels me with a serious stare. “She’s not one of your bed buddies, Tate. She may be playing the part but she wants more than that. And if you break her heart, you’re a total asshole.”
And then she leaves before I can ask what the hell she’s going on about. But the fact is, I know. It’s Mallory. But Mallory knows what we’re doing. We’ve talked about it and she’s been a willing participant.
Well, I’ll add having a talk with Mal to my long list of uncomfortable things I need to do. And I’m sure it will be as painful as missing the net on purpose, which I’ll also have to do tonight if someone slides me the puck on a power play.
I head into the shower filled with stress and a little rage. Why are things getting worse instead of better?
* * *
I'm late so the glare from Christine isn't unexpected. The ESPN crew is looking a little miffed too. I give them all a sheepish smile. "Sorry. There was an accident on the 10 so I had to take surface streets."
Total lie but this is a sports station, not a news station. They're not going to know. Christine's frown lessens a little as I immediately drop onto the stool they have set up for me. "Where's the interviewer?"
I glance around. We’re doing this in the hallway, halfway between the home and visitor locker rooms, and if we don’t get to it, the teams will be arriving and we won’t get the quiet we need. “He went to the bathroom. He’ll be here in a minute. Let’s do a lighting and sound test, okay?”
I nod at the guy talking and he walks over and mics me up. Usually, the interviewer just holds a big mic for these things, but they're putting a tiny one on my lapel instead. It doesn't raise a red flag but there's a weird look on the camera guy's face when a moment later he says. "So I'm gonna shoot some footage, just to get the angles and the lighting right. You can ignore me."
Okay… I do. I pull out my phone and send Mallory a text. When I got downstairs after my shower I found a note that she was on a grocery run and would be back. I waited as long as I could for her to return, and then even took the long way here, driving by the closest Trader Joe’s and the closest Ralph’s to see if I could see the new SUV in the parking lot. I was fully ready to stop and run into the store and talk to her, even if it meant I was super late. But I didn’t see the car.
Hey. I need to explain that video. And I will. Don’t worry.
Please wait up for me tonight. I want to see you.
I close my WhatsApp and a picture of Dylan fills my screen. He's standing in the old townhouse. Well, standing is a stretch. He's holding himself up by gripping the edge of the sofa but the smile on his face is so big and proud. Mallory says he may start walking any day now. I hope I'm home for it.
“So, Tater Tot Garrison, how does it feel to be on the verge of crushing your dad’s ego?”
