Page 95 of Call the Shots
Riley didn’t skip practice anymore because he was appointed for a new role—to count who wasn’t on time. The boys weren’tlatebefore but the abrupt schedule enforcement by a smug freshman left everyone on edge. Tempers flared. Seriously, their coach needed to go.
In the second floor’s lounge, I went over information with Denali. “Vernon’s untagged himself from three separate posts, each captioned with Leelee.”
“Who has to beRiley,” a new voice interjected—Elijah.
I shot a glance at Denali. “Does Elijahknow?”
“Why wouldn’t I tell him?”
“Because he’s Elijah,” I said, exasperated. “Elijah, you can’t mention this to anyone.”
“Why don’t we yell Leelee and see if Riley answers?” Elijah suggested.
I held up the sparse list of information we had on Vernon. “Because we have no idea if this is connected to misconduct?”
“Boring. I’m bored. You’re boring me.”
I rolled my eyes while Elijah slid into the seat next to Denali. No matter how many times I pointed out that Elijah needed to leave, Denali didn’t get the message, and I finally continued. “We found something new in the shredder—Marrs contacted him to say he hasn’t used the budget for his office?—”
“Which is crazy because his office is where roaches go to die,” Elijah remarked and described Vernon’s office as a filing cabinet, a stained desk, and a hole punched in the wall.
“Then why wouldn’t he use the budget?”
“I don’t speak for the inner thoughts of a dumbass.”
That was everything we had to work with. Basically nothing. Before my trip to Austin with my football friends, I wanted to get rid of Vernon. But that was looking more and more unrealistic.
Bear came from the stairs, a Boston Bulldogs baseball cap over his hair, resting his arms on the back of the couch. “June.”
“Forty, you’re late.”
“His jersey’s thirty-three,” Elijah corrected.
Bear didn’t take his eyes off me. Weird enough, he seemed almost…excited? Which was odd for Bear. “We don’t have anything on Vernon, so I was thinking…I have an actual apology for the Xavier thing.”
He caught my interest. “What is this leading to?”
“A field trip for the team. We’re stealing some shit.” Bear grinned. “Well, we’ll steal some shitback.”
My legsnever felt shorter than when I was surrounded by the Gladiators, moving together in a gigantic, testosterone-fueled mass. Bear pulled open the door to the student center. “Xavier’s upstairs. He got an award for ‘commitment to the betterment of the community.’”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt, Bear chuckled, following behind me.
We walked into the celebration. Sparkling cider poured in paper cups, a big buffet of sandwiches fromGianna’s,and there was Xavier, one of the glass pottery awards in hand. The housing staff stopped celebrating to look at who strolled in.
“What is—June?” One of the juniors stared. “June?”
“June?” Xavier asked, stunned.
I ignored the pop ups ofJune? June? June?and propped open the door to my ex’s office with the doorstopperIbought for him. Scanning the room, I hummed under my breath. Memories tugged at me. Buying things for my house and Xavier clicking his tongue, asking if I’dreallyuse that before it inevitably ended up in his office.
“Bookshelf,” I decided.
“What do we do with the books?” Denali asked.
“Set them gently?—”
Bear started shaking the bookshelf and the encyclopedias crashed to the ground.
