"Stop."
Coach skated to the dot.
"Holt. That read. You don't sell out on it. You stay on the inside lane and let Rook close. Make sure Pratt can see. Run it."
We ran it.
In the locker room, Varga was already in the middle of a story. "—and I'm telling you, the linesman looks at me, I look athim, and the ref is twenty feet away with his back turned. The linesman shrugs at me.Shrugs.Like, what do you want me to do?"
"Buffalo," Cross said, without lifting his head.
"Buffalo," Varga confirmed. "Three years ago. Maybe four. Doesn't matter. Point is, the ref never saw it. Never. To this day, the linesman walks the earth a free man."
"You scored on the play," Rook said from his stall. He did not look up.
"I scored on the play," Varga agreed. "Which is the only reason the story is funny."
Cross sat with his elbows on his knees. He didn't laugh.
I went to my stall and stripped off my gear. I racked it up and sat for a beat with my hands on my knees.
Heath dropped onto the bench beside me, half-undressed, a towel around his neck.
"Tell Sully when you see him next, the laser tag offer is still open."
I turned.
"You saw him?"
"We stopped in at Carver's yesterday. We were going to ask you, but those reporters had you pinned down. Sully didn't commit to the laser tag, but the offer is still there."
Heath spoke in his normal tone. He didn't saywe like himorlet us know if you guys are good.He just made it clear that they thought Sully was now a normal part of our lives.
"I'll tell him."
"Cool."
He stood, tapped the back of his knuckles once against my shoulder, and crossed to his stall.
In the parking garage, I sat with the keys in my hand and ran the day forward. Game in nine and a half hours. Nap window between four and five. Arena at five-thirty.
The condo was as I had left it. I stood at the counter for a moment with my hands flat on either side of the album cover.
Then I pulled out my phone and took a photo.
I framed the shot looking down. I checked for glare and adjusted a quarter turn until the light from the window stopped catching across the cardboard.
I sent the photo to Sully without text.
While waiting, I sliced an apple. I had eaten half of it when the phone buzzed.
Sully:that's the one he bought for a quarter
I read it twice.
The message was in lowercase without punctuation. That was Sully texting from inside himself. The bartender's voice used capitals and exclamation points.
I considered responding. The instinct was to ask.Are you home? Did you sleep? orDo you want me to come over?They would all require an instant response. I gave Sully space.
