“Okay…you’re making it sound a little scary. What is it?”
“I never told you this because people get a little weird about it. But he’s the team doctor for the Seattle Grizzlies.”
“The ice hockey team that Alfie’s brother, Teddy, plays on?” I ask dumbly. How the hell did I not know that her dad is the team doctor for the Grizzlies? He would know Alfie’s brother well, and he may have even met Alfie a few times.
“The very one,” she murmurs like it’s not something she’s overly excited to share.
“Okay, but you’re not a doctor-doctor. You’re a psychologist.”
“He wants me to be the team psychologist.”
“Do they even have one of those?”
“Yeah, it’s a big thing now to improve cohesiveness in the team collectively and then also working with individuals. People don’t realize how much mental stamina goes into sports until they’re playing at such a high level. But these guys—they’re just guys. Goofballs with the added damage that they’ve been told they’re shit-hot their whole lives because they’re good at sports. My job would be to work with them on their individual issues once a week and do some team bonding exercises, or pair work for those that work closely together.”
I grin. “Lana, that sounds amazing. Are you going to go for it?”
She breathes out a puff of relief. “Yeah, I mean, I actually kind of want to. It’s not changing the world or anything, but I’ll get to spend more time with my dad and make a difference to the team.”
“It makes sense given you’re such a big hockey fan.”
“Yeah, kind of. You know I love it when they get in fights.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, I could see you being a little prone to violence. You did date that British guy that played rugby.”
“Oh yeah, he was hot, man, the thighs on that guy.” She smiles wistfully.
“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants. I can’t wait to see you when you get back. At least this means you’ll be staying in the city for the foreseeable future.”
“If I get the job, yeah. But promise me that you’re only looking for a job in Seattle?”
“I promise.” And I mean it. Lana is my oldest friend here. We were both psych majors in our undergraduate degrees, and we both knew we wanted to become psychologists one day. Pairing up with someone who can hold you accountable and understands the work you’re doing was a game changer for me. When one of us struggled, the other supported. When we weren’t understanding something, the other would explain. We’re a little yin and yang that way. Perfectly gelled together, we’d be the ultimate therapist.
But it’s been nice; our career aspirations have been very different. I’ve always wanted to support people in their day-to-day lives, improving things for those who have experienced trauma and hardship. Not necessarily those headline-grabbing experiences, but helping someone build a better life like Alfie does. That would fill me with a sense of job satisfaction no other profession could give me.
Lana has always chased the experience. She wants to see and do everything possible in this life. Hence volunteering in Puerto Rico and taking on assignments that are going to push her far past her comfort zone. I’ve always thought that one day it would catch up with her. The constant push to help the most downtrodden, the people that have experienced the worst that life can throw at you.
They need help, of course. But it almost felt like Lana needed to experience the worst so she could make up for her privileged life. I had no doubt that growing up the way she did contrasted massively with her family in Mexico. She lived in the suburbs; her dad is a doctor who I’ve now discovered works for the Grizzlies. He’d be on a lot of money. I know they had staff when she was growing up—cleaners and nannies. Maybe she was trying to make up for the fact that she hadn’t experienced any real trauma. Not since I’ve known her, at least.
“Okay, girl. Time to spill the tea, please.”
I take a deep breath. “I slept with Alfie.”
“Ifuckingknew it!” she screams before turning away from the screen. “Ay, perdona señora, discúlpeme.” She pulls an awkward face and begins to whisper.
“Tell me everything immediately.”
So I did. I explained the chemistry between us, the fake dating, Dinner Club, everything. I even told her about Alfie going down on me in the backroom of a bar in Texas. To say she was squealing like a pig in shit hearing that would be an understatement.
“Okay, so he banged your brains out, what’s the problem? Does he have a tiny dick? Does he whinny when he comes? Ooh, ooh, does he call you Mommy?” She cackles.
“No, he does not call me Mommy, Christ, Lana. And he doesn’t fucking whinny; he’s not a horse.”
“Okay, so it’s his dick then.”
“No, his dick is…sizeable.”
“What are we talking here?”
