Page 7 of Lavender and Linebackers

The bat signal started as a joke in college. We found the exact image that the Gotham City Police Department used to shine into the sky to summon Batman as a call for help, and we adopted it as just that. If one of us needed help in any way, the signal would be texted over, and we’d drop whatever we were doing to save the other. Our serious, but not 911 serious, signal to the other.

“Four bat signals?” She looks amused, but underneath the small smile I can tell she’s concerned. I’ve only used the bat signal on her a small handful of times, and unfortunately most have revolved around Ryder. “Funny, I don’t need four by the way you’re shoveling that bread into your mouth.”

“You know I don’t know how to act around warm bread. I can’t help myself, and after what happened today, I’m about to eat three baskets.” I stuff another bite in.

Listen, in my defense, this bread is delicious. It’s grilled focaccia bread, so it’s light and airy, but with the delicious taste of smoke. Cover it with olive oil and Greek seasoning, and you’d be licking your fingers too.

Kelli reaches for the basket and pulls it away from me. My head hangs a little, and Ryder’s words replay themselves. I don’t want to be near you, and I definitely don’t want to hear your voice. All these years and I still don’t understand what he has to be upset about. I did nothing to him. He, however, did everything to me. And by his expression, it was clear that he found me disgusting. It was an emotion I’ve seen him give other people, but it was never directed at me, and even after all these years apart, it hurts.

“Spill it,” she says, taking a piece for herself.

I lean back in my chair and look around us. The restaurant is two blocks from our apartment. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall in a building. The floors have mismatched tiles, and the walls are lined with images of Greece. There’s no one here at the moment, other than the owner and his wife, as it’s not quite dinnertime, and I’m glad. Should I end up crying, I don’t want anyone to see me.

Actually, no, I’m not going to cry. I’ve cried enough tears over him, and he definitely doesn’t deserve any more. What this bat signal session needs to be is a joining of my commiseration with hers. She’s going to understand perfectly.

“The Tarpons marketing team found old reels and pictures of Ryder and me, and they want to launch a Hometown Heroes campaign. We have to attend events together.”

She sucks in a quick breath and leans back. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

“I know.” I drop my forehead to the table, wishing I was telling her anything other than this.

“Did you see him?”

“Unfortunately, he was in the meeting,” I mumble against the plastic tablecloth.

Ugh. Just the image of him sitting across the table from me, all scowly and brooding, with his perfect dark hair and perfect dark eyes over this unfortunate situation, makes my stomach want to curl in on itself.

I pick up my head and stare at my friend’s concerned expression. Undoubtedly she’s worried. She knows how much damage he can cause me and how quickly.

“I knew there would come a time when we would run into each other, but I wasn’t ready. It’s literally too soon. Everything still feels new. We haven’t had any games. I don’t feel like I have my footing yet within our team and the organization, and it’s just day one. Day one! Why is this happening to me?” I cover my face with my hands and let out a long, exasperated moan. I’m trying to hide in plain sight. Hide from who? Who knows. Most likely myself.

“Well, tell them no. It’s okay to set boundaries, even in your career,” she says firmly.

My eyes find hers, and I say the one thing that I know will give her pause. “They said they’d sponsor the Mighty Monarchs.”

Her eyes widen with sudden excitement. “Cheese. And. Crackers.”

Sponsors are how we make this program work. I know her wheels are turning.

“You can say that again,” I tell her, dropping my hands and grabbing back the basket to stuff more bread into my mouth.

“Okay, well let’s look at this objectively and quantifiably. Let’s separate the assignment from emotions and break it down. How many events? How long is each event? How much interaction is actually required at these events? Can you have a plus-one like me at the events? I can be a great shield. I’d also probably be pretty good at burying a body. Just say the word.”

A laugh escapes me. She always has a way of making me feel better. “First up is a photo shoot this Sunday and then community events.” A photo shoot where I’ll have to stand next to him. God help me if they make him touch me.

“How many?”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t gone through the PR packet they gave us.”

“Al, you know the Mighty Monarchs would be fine without the Tarpons. We’ve got a few smaller sponsors lined up, and we always make it work.” She grabs a piece of bread from the basket before I eat it all. I appreciate that she’s being supportive, but we both know we could use the money.

“I know, but they’re also offering a halftime performance. This would be a dream come true for so many of these kids and their families. Just think of all the free tickets they’ll give us. I can’t deny them that because I have personal issues with a guy. I’m not in danger being around him. It’s that I don’t want to be.”

She leans back in her chair. “Game time, too?”

“Yep.”

I know she’s imagining all their little faces when we tell them. It’s hard for me not to imagine them too, and with that it does slow my racing heart.