“Hol-y shit,” he crows, letting out a low whistle as Mickey strolls back in, slipping his phone in his pocket.
“Everything good with Birdie?” I ask. I know what it’s like when your siblings are going through shit, and you have to sit on the sidelines watching. It sucks to feel that powerless, so I want Mickey to know we’ve got his back.
He shrugs in response. “It’s not good, which is why I’m trying to convince her to move here for school. Living at home isn’t the best situation, and after all the shit that went down tonight, I might finally have her convinced.”
“I hope it works out, man. I love having my brothers close by, even when we drive each other crazy.”
Ollie’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Dude, yeah, whatever, Birdie can move in here for all I care. Santos just dropped a fucking bomb on us, and you missed it.”
Mickey fills his plate and turns to me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Ollie’s overreacting. I?—”
“He slept with Claire. They’re hatefucking.” Ollie interjects like it physically pained him to keep that information in his brain for more than thirty seconds.
“We’re not hatefucking,” I correct, but Ollie jumps the gun again and misconstrues my words.
“You’re lovefucking? Or just normal fucking? Is there a word for normal fucking?” he asks.
“Yeah. Fucking,” Deano answers.
“Right, right,” Ollie says, snapping his fingers. “All right, Pete, what’s the deal. I’m basically a love expert, so you can ask me anything.”
I open my mouth to decline Ollie’s offer as politely as possible, but the back door opens and JT steps into the kitchen.
Suddenly, speculation about my love life is forgotten as all eyes turn to JT. Rumors have been flying around campus, but I don’t usually pay any attention to that shit. But Ollie likes to be in the know. And he hates being the last to find out. So, if the whispers are true, our goalie is about to have questions fired in his direction like pucks whizzing by at breakneck speed.
I feel bad for JT’s impending interrogation, but I can’t lie and say I’m not relieved the heat’s off me for the time being. The truth is, I’m not sure what to do about Claire. Our arrangement was temporary and she’s hardly part of my cheering section, so why does my mind keep reaching for thoughts of her?
13
Claire
Slipping my phone into my bag, I step into the Wolford Administration building. My co-workers love me, but if Barb and Linda caught me scrolling or texting, I would no longer be the darling of the Campus Life Office. I’m not a pick-me in any way, shape, or form. I’ve never thrived on other people’s admiration or sought their acceptance.
Until Barb and Linda.
They’re both in their early sixties and counting down the days until retirement. Seriously. There’s a countdown calendar in the breakroom featuring naked men and strategically placed sticky notes. These two are more cynical than I can ever hope to be, and I love them for it. They know everything because they have done everything, and they are over everyone’s bullshit. Except mine. They love my bullshit.
They also love that I’m ten minutes early every day and that I’m not afraid of the telephone like most people my age.
I stroll past Linda’s empty desk to stow my bag in thebottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets. This is my first day back on the job since classes ended last semester and the office looks completely different than it did a month ago. Gone are the motorized reindeer and the twinkle lights. Plaid bows and festive wreaths have been stored in plastic bins until next December arrives. The office isn’t completely bare, though. Barb may have said goodbye to her Santa collection, but her army of snowmen is here to usher in the new year.
“Claire!” Barb’s voice radiates excitement as she turns in her office chair and slides her readers down her nose to get a good look at me. “How was Florida? Did you get a tan? Did you really get to swim with the dolphins? I’ve always wanted to do that, but my Roy hates the beach. He says it’s too sandy. Can you imagine?”
I strike a quick pose, showing off my bronze-y glow. “Florida was great,” I say. To my credit, I don’t elaborate and tell her that the best part by far was all the sex I had with Bainbridge Hockey’s burly defenseman. Barb’s a progressive gal, but I think she’d draw the line at hearing all the sexy details. Either that, or she’d set her sights on Pete. Poor Roy would never recover.
Logging into the computer at the back of the office, I pull up my schedule for the day as Linda strolls in, a coffee carrier from Drip clutched in her right hand. “There’s our girl,” she says, beaming. My heart grows half a size because I know that the list of people who bring a smile to Linda’s face is a very short one, and I’m honored to be on that select list.
She hands me a cookies’ncreme-ucino and I take it gratefully. “What’s this for?” I ask, before taking a sip.
“You’re back,” Barb says, smiling, just as Linda crows, “And that means Stephen is gone!”
I nod in understanding. Stephen is a grad student whoalso works in Academic Affairs and covers for me when I’m on break. He’s allergic to phone calls and takes breaks that are longer than his allotted ten minutes, so he is no one’s favorite.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip. “I missed you ladies. I had fun at Marine World, but it’s good to be back.”
I’m sure they’re going to ask to see pictures, but Kathy’s phone rings just as the door opens and a flustered-looking freshman wanders in, so I turn to my computer to get started on my task list.
