Page 93 of Home Town Advantage
“I miss you too. Have you seen much of Vance?”
I gulp. “Yes, I see him around,” I reluctantly admit. “You know we share friends in common.” I cringe, hoping she’s not upset with me.
“How does he seem?”
That’s an unexpected question. “Why?”
“Jane is worried about him.”
“Oh. Maybe it has to do with,” I whisper because we rarely say her name out loud in our house, “Maddie. Or even Francesca,” though he won’t talk about her. “Momma,” I feel compelled to ask again, “do the McCaffreys spend time with Francesca? It sounds like Maddie doesn’t allow Vance much time with her. I hope she gets to spend time with her grandparents.”
“I assume they see her,” she answers. “You know it’s our unspoken agreement that we don’t talk about that part of their life. They respect our pain over the situation. They even go so far as to hide all her pictures when we visit the ranch. I’ve neveronce seen one out. I wouldn’t even know what she looked like if it wasn’t for the occasional run-in. She doesn’t have any of the McCaffreys’ darker hair and skin tone in her. She’s all Maddie with fair skin and light hair. And she’s tiny like Maddie. She didn’t get the McCaffrey height either.”
Vance’s whole family is tall. His father, Michael, is even taller than Vance, and Jane must be close to my height. Even though MeeMaw has shrunk throughout the years, she’s still got height most women in her generation didn’t have.
“Interesting. I think there’s more to the story than what we know to be the truth. I can’t get Vance to talk about it. Maybe you can get Jane to talk. If you want.”
She audibly sighs. “I don’t know, Sulley. You know it took time to get our friendship back on track. I don’t think I want to rock the boat.” She’s silent for a brief moment. “I’m happy you’re able to spend time with Vance. When you were little, Jane and I used to daydream that you two would end up together. I know that won’t happen now, but I’m pleased you two have achieved some level of friendship. You share a lot of history.”
My eyes fill with tears. Shit, I don’t need this before a game.
“Momma, I need to get ready for my game.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. Good luck. Knock ’em dead. You always do. We’ll be watching. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, sweet girl.”
I end the call and take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm myself. I need to shift gears and get into the gameday mindset.
I’m still in my head when the locker room doors swing open with a thud, and Kennedy struts in like she owns the place. Walking into games has become a bit of a fashion show. Our gameday outfits are photographed and plastered all over social media for the world to judge. Everyone now takes time to carefully choose what they’ll wear as they walk into the stadium.
Seeing Kennedy’s gameday outfit immediately brings a smile to my face and lifts my spirits. She’s in high-fashion jeans withstiletto heels. Her hair is styled to perfection with her always-present perfect ponytail, and her makeup is flawless. But it’s her shirt that is the object of my admiration. She’s wearing my college jersey. Well, it’s not the actual jersey. It’s a trendy, artfully torn replica of it. University of Montana, number twenty-two, with my name on it.
“Nice shirt, number eight.”
She smirks. “Got to support my girl, number twenty-two. The days of the women in this league pulling you down to make themselves feel better about their mediocre play are over. There’s a new queen in the sport. They’d better get used to it. The rising tide raises all ships. It’s a shame they don’t realize how much everyone benefits from your popularity.”
The other players in the league trying to push me down doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It’s interesting that it bothers my teammates, and analysts love to talk about it, but I don’t care at all. I’m here to do one thing. Win games for my team. Everything else is white noise.
Interviews by our opponents saying I’m all hype have become commonplace. I’m always asked to respond on camera, but I’d rather respond with good play. I won’t get dragged into a mudslinging contest. It’s not a good look for women. We should be supporting each other. There are plenty of seats at the table for everyone.
I’m not sure I have a bigger cheerleader than Kennedy. I’m completely overcome with gratitude for my beautiful friend.
I wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Kennedy Jeffries. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
She lifts her head and yells out, “Fuck, Shay, I think you turned another one.”
I giggle into her neck, and I can feel her laughing too. She whispers, “If I didn’t know you were fucking Vance McCaffrey, I’d think you were into me.”
Two hours later,I’m on the court warming up when I see Vance walking to his seat on the floor. Sure enough, he’s wearing my Beavers jersey over his T-shirt. I’m flooded with emotion at seeing him in it.
Our eyes meet. He mouths, “Sorry.”
I nod and mouth back, “Me too.”
Returning my attention to our layup line, I notice Kennedy tugging at the crotch of her shorts. “Everything okay down there?” I ask.
