Fallon turns back to her drawing and even though Ijust catch a glimpse, I see what looks to be the tail of a dragon taking shape. Or it could be a bridge. Yeah, I’ve got no clue, but I hope she’ll let me see it when she’s done.
There’s no reason to stay seated here, so I wander over to where the freshmen are playing cards and I tell Baby Santos to deal me in as I plop down next to him.
The new guys are bonding, Mickey and Wagner haven’t come to blows, and we’ll land within the hour. I’ve got tons of stuff planned and Ms. Grim is here to take some promo shots to get us some good press on all the BU platforms.
So far, this plane trip has been a success, but the biggest victory of all is the smile Fallon gave me when I promised her some one-on-one time with her big brother. Now I just need to find a way to make it happen.
17
Fallon
Ifeel like one of those girls on a reality show with a title likeMy Over-the-Top Sweet Sixteen.This suite is decked out with a chocolate fountain, ice sculptures, and waiters with trays boasting everything from champagne to tequila to tiny little tacos stuffed with carne asada and roasted veggies.
Except it’s not my birthday—not until midnight—and none of this fanfare is for me. The owner of the Flagstaff Antelope rented this box tonight because Booker’s already made a great impression on his team and they’re rolling out the red carpet for this pre-season game against the new expansion team in Las Vegas.
Instead of a fancy ball gown, I’m wearing wide leg jeans and a jersey with my brother’s name on the back, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Booker has been my biggest cheerleader since we were little kids, and now is my chance to return the favor.
Truthfully, though, he doesn’t need too much help from the fans. Booker’s on fire tonight. We’re halfway throughthe third period, and he’s already had one goal and one assist.
Maggie nudges me and smiles. “He’s having a great game,” she tells me, doing her best to sign the words. ASL isn’t the easiest language to learn, but I know JT has been teaching her some words and phrases. I have my hearing aids in tonight, but when the arena is this packed, it’s hard to decipher sounds over background noise, so I’m grateful she’s making the effort.
A drink magically appears in front of me when Annabelle and Viv join us.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking at the frothy bright yellow cocktail with a purple flower in it.
“It’s a Porn Star,” Viv says, meeting my eyes so I can read her lips. “The bartender didn’t know how to make them, though, so I had to take charge. And they didn’t have any whole passion fruits for garnish, so I improvised with the orchid.”
I take a sip, and it tastes like the best popsicle I’ve ever had. It’s fruity and tart and does not taste like alcohol. If I keep drinking these, I could be in trouble. “Thanks,” I say, lifting my drink and touching my fingers to my chin before moving them forward and down.
The girls start talking, but I’m paying more attention to the ice. Sure it‘s a preseason game, but it’s my brother’s first pro game and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. I’m texting updates to mom and Emersyn as the game progresses, because I know they’re sad to be missing out. They’ll be stateside by the time the season officially starts, and I can guarantee that my mom and sister will attend every game they can, and they’ll be decked out head-to-toe in Antelope gear.
I’m biting my nails and texting Em when Booker’s teammate Andy LaBrie makes the game-winning shot.Well, what should have been the game-winning shot. Vegas’s goalie must have superpowers because no mere human has a reach like that.
As the teams take a short break before overtime begins, the girls go in search of more drinks and my eyes wander around the room.
It’s possible that I was unnecessarily bitchier to Ollie this afternoon. Yeah, I was grumpy that my birthday getaway became a team field trip, but Booker was so happy to see everyone this afternoon that it was impossible to stay mad.
The guys are all having fun and it’s good to see them relax. I’m no athlete, but even I know how crucial it is for players to bond on and off the ice. I didn’t intend to make a whole new set of friends when I moved into Booker’s old house, but they guys are growing on me, especially Mickey. He’s a lovable mess and when I see him throw his head back and laugh at something one of the Masons said, it warms my heart. I’m so wrapped up in watching the sweet moment unfold that I don’t notice JT until he’s sitting right beside me.
“Hey, Fallon,” he signs, smiling at me. “This is Valerie Grim and she’s with Bainbridge’s PR department. Since you’re Booker’s sister, she wants to ask you a couple questions about his time at BU and how it feels to be watching him tonight. Do you mind talking to her? I’m happy to interpret.”
Booker’s always had an unspoken rule for his friends and teammates that requires them to know a little bit of conversational ASL, so I don’t feel left out if I’m in the room. I appreciate the gesture, but none of the guys are ASL scholars, except for JT and Ollie. JT took it as his World Language requirement in high school, and I have no clue where Ollie learned it but he’s so good he could teachclasses. I think he might be teaching a crash course to the freshmen.
But none of that is important right now. We’ve got ten minutes until overtime begins, and I have an interview to conduct. JT makes introductions, and once we get started, it’s a pretty easy process. I’m always happy to brag about my brother’s accomplishments and while I may not play the sport, I know the game of hockey inside and out. Just as I’m finishing up a question about where I think Booker is headed after his rookie season, the lights dim, and the crowd falls quiet. All eyes are trained on the ice as the clock begins counting down to see who’ll score first in overtime play.
Nearly seven minutes later, we’re still scoreless. Everybody’s tossing their opinions in about a potential shoot-out, but I know it won’t get that far. I can sense it in the way Booker’s careening down the ice. He’s hell-bent on finishing this game, and he’s about to do it single handedly. When I glance at the crowd gathered in this room, it ranges from die-hard fans to significant others without a clue.
Most people are watching the game, but only one other person is as locked in as I am, and it’s Ollie.
I love that he’s cheering my brother on, but does he have to look like a sex god while he does it? He catches me staring and sends a wink in my direction. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended, but when I catch a glimpse of the Jumbotron, I glue my eyes to the screen just in time to see Booker swipe the puck from the opposing team and tip it right over the line.
The crowd goes wild as the lamp lights to signify that Flagstaff scored, and the game is officially over. Maggie and Annabelle hug me as I get a string of texts from Mom and Emersyn.
The next half hour is a blur. The celebration leveled up and people are making plans to keep the party going, my brother included.
Booker: Holy crap, I’m so glad you were here to see this game!
Fallon: Me, too! You are freaking amazing! Two goals and an assist?!?!?!
