Talk of the Town
Colt
‘If we’re going to pull this off, you’ll need to know the team backwards and forwards, inside out. The Riders are May’s whole thing.’
Jordan Gutierrez-Hawkins hefts her lacrosse stick to point at a photo on the slide deck she’s showing on the lecture hall projector. We’re somewhere in the business building, I think, where she’s taken over one of the biggest auditoriums on campus to walk me through what she’s deemed crucial information for me to know in order to succeed in this fake relationship.
Jordan, with enough personality for a twelve-person team, uses her whole body to gesture avidly as she gives me her rundown. I remember her pretty well from our time at Prosperity. She and May were joined at the hip from the first grade, the earliest we all went to school together because Eagle Rock wastoo small to have one to itself. By the time we got to high school, I had my group, primarily consisting of the guys from my team, and Jordan and May had theirs, primarily consisting of the girls from their team. A couple of the dudes would try to shoot their shot with the girls’ team, but oftentimes to no avail.
I’m trying to pay attention to what Jordan’s saying, but my brain is still hooked on the ‘fake’ in all these terms – fake relationship, fake boyfriend, fake date nights. Sitting in that restaurant with May, I had to spend the whole dinner forcing down the feeling in my gut that just wanted it all to bereal. I craved again that shred of enjoyment she’d shown at the bar that night, but I could see it on her face, and how she’d laid down the law with her voice: this was all business for her.
‘COLT!’ Jordan calls from up on the stage, voice bouncing off the high ceiling of the auditorium, her brow creased in disappointment. ‘Are you listening?’
‘Uh, yeah!’
‘Sure.’ She narrows her eyes in disbelief, but continues with her spiel. ‘We’ll circle back to May shortly. As for me, you’ll get to know me pretty well, considering I’m the only one on this team besides Coach who knows what’s going on. This is—’
‘Wait. Pause.’ I raise a hand. ‘You and Coach orchestrated this thing?’
‘What, you think we wouldn’t?’ Jordan shakes her head. ‘Coach is more than just an authority figure for us, Colt. When we’re not home with our families, she’s Mom. For the record, the two of us had a whole talk about Bradlasco last practice. We can’t tell exactly how May’s feeling about it all, you know she’s hard to get a read on, but she’s letting it fly. For the team, I think, considering she has so much weight on her shoulders after last year.’
I still don’t know the entire story about May’s junior year, but from what Coach told me, I can put some of the pieces together. It’s not the kind of thing you ask to dig deeper about.
Jordan clears her throat for dramatic effect. ‘So. I continue requesting your attention. This is Maddie. Attacker. Miss Bellmare. She spends most of her day in classes, spends some time with us, and whatever time is left is spent doing her duties. Civic title, technically, so not really your traditional beauty queen. She’s a political science major. She has thoughts, and she lives to make them known.’
In similar fashion, Jordan takes me through the Riders’ starting twelve: the midfielders, attackers, defence, and the goalie, Lexi, who frankly terrifies me more than any other member of the team (except maybe May).
‘She’s definitely walking, talking fear,’ Jordan ends triumphantly, wagging her stick at Lexi’s team photo – which is more like a mugshot – complete with a glowering stare. ‘Brianna – quick, pop quiz, who’s Brianna?’
‘I – uh …’ I’m notoriously terrible at pop quizzes, so I wiggle uncomfortably in my seat. ‘Um. Midfield. Hair?’
‘Good. Hair Brianna starts shaking when Lexi asks if she can braid her up for a game.’ Jordan clucks her tongue. ‘That’s what you call bad energy, if you ask me. And there’s your first-string twelve. We’ll start there. Know us well. You’ll travel with us cross-country, probably body some buffets with us, a couple of college dining halls across state lines. You’ll definitely get asked about us in relation to May in interviews. You’ll definitely get asked … about May. Segue.’ She raises an eyebrow, then puckers her lips in thought. ‘Let’s do some more trivia, Colt.’
Oh, no. The mischievous look on Jordan’s face tells me all Ineed to know about the upcoming trivia I’ll have to endure. I’m literally about to start biting my nails. ‘Um. Sure?’
‘Question!’ She clicks forward in the slide deck, to a giant photo of May with the Riders’ mascot, a comedic-looking horse standing on its hind legs. Even with that thing next to her drawing attention to its googly eyes, May’s stunning grin is what captivates me. She’s a knockout, always has been.
‘May’s favourite colour.’
‘Hot pink.’
‘Wow, cowboy.’ Jordan nods in approval. ‘Bare minimum. May’s horse’s name.’
‘Uh … Rocky?’
‘Okay!’ Jordan taps her lacrosse stick against her palm with a grin. ‘I see you. You got chops. If May could eat only one food for the rest of her life?’
Damn it. I gulp, trying to call back something – anything – from high school. Or even now, honestly. I’d take it. In the end, I come out with, ‘She doesn’t like pasta, does she?’
‘Ugh, Big Time!’ groans Jordan. She throws her hands up in despondency. ‘You were on a roll! And youknowthe way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach, don’t you? What if she asks you to grab a plate from the buffet? What’re you going to get her? Repeat after me, champ.Nashville hot chicken.’
This monstrosity of a trivia match goes on for another thirty minutes before Jordan finally clicks to a slide of the entire team, leading to a large-font THANK YOU. ‘You did good,’ she says sternly. ‘Hope you took some notes. But you did good.’
‘Thanks.’ I shoot her a grateful smile. Then, I wonder, maybe Icouldget some context on May’s last year from Jordan. Not reasons. Just context. ‘Jordan … could I ask … everyone seemsto mention May’s bad last season. Off-seasons happen, though. It’s not something horrible … right?’
‘You gotta ask May about that, you know.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Is it something I should know?’
