Page 47 of The Americana Playbook

“I can replace him because he’s an overpaid pussy.”

I’ve never played withoragainst a cornerback I thought was a pussy.

Coach comes around the table, patting me on the shoulder. “Thanks for lunch. Good luck with your dance tonight.”

I run my hand over my face when my phone vibrates again.

Parker

?

Furrowing my brow, I type my response as I ask for the check.

Sorry. Back in a bit.

Parker

How much is a bit, exactly?

10 min maybe. All good?

Parker

Yes and no.

Tossing cash in the bill envelope, I leave the table, heading outside and call her. “What’s wrong?”

I can hear her take a deep breath, but only silence follows.

“You can’t answer on the fourth ringandnot tell me what’s wrong.”

Parker sighs. “I just need a hand. Can you hurry?”

I begin to walk briskly. “You’re okay though?”

“Yeah. I can’t reach something.”

I lift my hand when a car honks at me as I cross the street. “If you can’t wait, there’s a stepladder?—”

“Fitz.” Parker groans. “I’mstuckin my dress and can’t reach thezipper.”

“That’s urgent? I almost got hit by a car for you because you’re stuck in your dress?”

Parker huffs. “Never mind. I’ll go and ask Agent Samuels?—”

“Don’t.” I almost get hit by a second car and barely make it across the street before the light changes. “I’m coming. Hang tight.”

When I get up to the floor of my apartment, I eye Agent Samuels, reaching for the door’s knob myself.

“Finally. Took you long enough.”

Following her voice, I find her sitting on the kitchen island.

Looking absolutelyfire.

“What’s the problem?”

“Itoldyou,” she says. “I’m stuck.”

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