Page 41 of Playing for Keeps

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I nearly choke on my own saliva reading that absolute garbage of a “news” story, but I don’t have long to simmer over it because Brian starts calling.

“Yeah.” I don’t even bother with a greeting, and he doesn’t waste any time on small talk.

“G Stag, we might be fucked. You need to tell me if there’s anything to this.”

I tug on my hair with my free hand. “Jesus, Brian. Of course not. You have to know I’m gone for Emerson, man. Fuck.”

He hums. “That’s interesting. Okay. Well, this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

I kick the seat in front of me, thankfully not hard enough to damage it or my foot. “Brian, I can handle this and any fallout, but I don’t want Emerson dragged into this. Do you know herparents came to the fan fest last night and screamed at her? It was disgusting.”

He gasps, which is super unusual for him as he’s more prone to cursing and yelling at his staff. “Oy vey, Gunnar, you need to alert me when these things happen. Remember, I can take care of anything I know about in advance. Why didn’t you tell me they came to the arena?”

“I don’t know, man, I was a little focused on getting them the hell away from my wife.”

The team begins to file onto the bus, and half of them are staring at me. I flip off the twins, but they sit in the seats directly in front of me, turned around and staring while I talk to our shared agent.

Brian sighs. I can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Gunnar, this isn’t good, dude. I received some intel that the source had really specific information about you and Emerson. Now I find out her parents crashed your fan fest?” He’s likely about to start chugging Tums.

“What are you getting at, Brian?”

“Gunnar, I’m going to need some time with this. I’ll speak to the coaching staff, but please promise me that you and Emerson will avoid any contact with her parents. Expect calls in the morning.”

“Yeah.” I stare at my brothers, who have their phones in hand and eyebrows raised. They know. I guess word is out. “Thanks, Brian.”

He begins yelling into his other phone before he even hangs up with me. It’s a long and miserable journey back to Pittsburgh.

CHAPTER 27

EMERSON

I hate leavingGunnar in New York for the second Fury game of that series, but everything happening with my parents has me so shaken up that I know coming back to Pittsburgh is the right choice.Home…

I told Gunnar that I needed to go home. It makes no sense to me that I’ve mentally classified the apartment in Lawrenceville as “home,” yet every time I even think about that space, I feel a warm, safe glow. Gunnar lived there only a few months prior to me moving in, so we have truly been creating it as a home together. The moment he thinks of something I might like or need, he orders it, and it appears. Cozy blankets on the couch, apple slicers, and even a toilet paper subscription…it all arrives with no strings attached, without comment.

I try to make him comfortable, too, cleaning up when he cooks (if he lets me) and making sure the fridge is stocked with his favorite lean protein. Somehow, this ruse, intended to help him play the game he loves, has turned into something very meaningful and real.

I take a car from the airport directly to Scale Up, and Omar appears relieved to see me walk in the door. Roughly forty young kids swarm in between the music rooms, loudly tootingon out-of-tune instruments while waiting for the previous hour’s lessons to somehow wrap up amidst the chaos.

I halt in my tracks as a young viola player spies me and starts running my way. “Miss Emerson!” The girl’s name is Ilan, and the plastic beads on her braids clack as she hurries to me.

“Walking feet with your instrument,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm and low.

“Oh. Right.” She bites her lip and slows her pace, pausing in front of me and bouncing up and down. “I got a dress for the concert! It’s purple!”

“Oh, that sounds gorgeous.” I squat so we are eye to eye. “And you can move your arms easily wearing it? It’s not too tight?”

She grins and nods, explaining that her mother has the little concert wardrobe card I made for the kids, explaining what to look for in performance clothes. I absolutely love that Scale Up doesn’t require all black. The music school partnered with a local boutique so the kids can benefit from a sliding scale fee structure for attire. It’s been so fun emailing back and forth with the youth buyer, talking about designs that might help or hinder a young trombone player differently from a flutist.

“Ilan, have you tuned your instrument yet? Want to show me your stuff?”

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