Page 58 of Body Check
“Hey, Liza,” I say, stepping into the kitchen and standing across from her at the center island. “We need to talk.”
She swallows a sip of her coffee and eyes me skeptically. “Okay…” she says, laughing.
“What? Why are you giving me that look? And why are you giggling like I just told a joke? Comedy is not part of my skillset.”
She laughs harder. “Because you just barked at me and now you’re baring your teeth.”
“I am not,” I grumble. “I’m smiling. This is how I smile.”
“Are you part Rottweiler?” she asks.
I heave a sigh, paste on a slightly more serene smile, and try again. “Liza, so nice to see you. Can we please talk for a minute? I need a favor.”
“Sure, Wagner,” she says happily. “What’s up?
“I need more t-shirts. The ones with my name on the back.” I’m probably barking a little, but she did ask me if I was a rottweiler, so she can’t be shocked. And since Liza’s the equipment manager who deals mostly with uniforms and team merch, she’s probably fielded a request like this before.
“I can do that. How many?”
When I hesitate for just a second, she glances up at me with a question in her eyes. “I need them in a different size,” I tell her.
She slides her phone out of her pocket and opens a blank note. “Okay. What size do you need?”
My answer is pathetic, but it’s the only one I’ve got. “I don’t know.”
She looks at me like I might have taken a nasty hit to the boards. “Um…are the shirts you have now too big? Too small? Too short? Help me out here, Wagner. You know what, never mind. I have your sizes here. You wear an XL Long right now.”
That sounds about right. “Yeah, then, uh, I think a 3X long will work… I need one, maybe two sizes larger than what I wear?”
“Are these for you?” she asks.
“Does it matter?” I counter
Liza just shrugs. “Not to me. I’m just saying that I can order shirts from another vendor that makes a plus size woman’s cut. They’re not as boxy, and they go in at the waist, but they’re roomier in certain places. I don't think that type of shirt would work for you, but if you tell me what you're looking for, I’ll see if I can get it for you.
“Yes, that. That’s exactly what I need,” I tell her, looking at the model on her phone screen.
“Done. I’ll order them today. They’ll come in a few days. You know what? I’ll have them to you before the next game.”
That’s only two days away, so I know Liza’s doing me more than one favor here. “Thank you,” I say, hoping she realizes how grateful I am.
“Now that,” she says, pointing at my face, “is a real smile.”
25
Bridgette
“Igot your text,” I say, standing in my brother’s doorway. There’s a suitcase on the bed, and also a duffel. There’s also a pile of clothing stacked so high I’m surprised it hasn’t hit the ceiling fan.
“Come on in,” he says, gesturing to the chair in the corner. It’s piled high with more clothing, so I just lean against the wall.
“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks turning red. “I can move my shit. “
“It’s fine,” I insist, but when he clears a spot for me at the end of the bed, I take it. Bran and I have barely spoken in the past two weeks, so when he sent me a message asking if I had time to talk, I abandoned my own packing party and came right over.
Horrible Jocelyn's wedding is in two days, and I imagine Mickey is driving out after tomorrow afternoon’s game, just like Dutton and I are. I doubt he’s dreading the nuptials as much as I am, but he’s probably not looking forward to them. Going home is never easy for either of us, but we always have each other. After his reaction to my relationship with Dutton, I’m not so sure anymore.
“I’ve been a total prick,” my brother says without preamble. “A colossal fucking dick. And I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Birdie. I get it if it takes you time to forgive me. I know I need to earn your trust back. But I don’t want you thinking you have to go into the fucking lions’ den alone this weekend.”
