Page 59 of Summer Lessons
Mason’s jaw was tight and so was his throat. “Oh God, yes,” he said, wanting to hold somebody so badly. “Dane and Carpenter are going to spend the whole day with the kids. I think Dane might even be going over to meet Carpenter’s parents. We have the place to ourselves.”
Terry cackled, running backward to join his team. “You could put a rock band in the living room and still have your place to ourselves.” He turned around and trotted forward then, leaving Mason to make his slow way to the chairs.
When he arrived and sat down, Dane covered him up with a bright orange fleece blanket emblazoned withGiants, which they used when they caught a game at AT&T Park. Tucked into the cup holder was a venti caramel latte, which, along with gloves, helped keep Mason’s hands warm.
“Do you have everything?” Dane asked soberly. “Are you as snug as a sultan in a swing?”
Mason shook his head. “I’m great,” he said. “I’ll have to pee in a few minutes—then we’re in trouble—but other than that, well done!”
“Good to know,” Dane said. He looked at the little girl on the other side of him. “What do you say, Holly-bell? Will you have to go to the bathroom in a minute?”
Holly-bell regarded Mason with unfriendly brown eyes. “No. Not with him.”
Mason arched an eyebrow at Dane, who shrugged. “Well, we can go as a group,” he said diplomatically. “Jason, do you have to pee?”
“How come she’s Holly-bell and I’m just Jason?” he asked, way too surly for one so young.
“Would you like to be Jason-llama?” Dane asked, his rather wonderful mind pulling that from thin air.
“What’s a llama?” Jason asked—damned suspicious for a seven- or eight-year-old. He actually had a no-bullshit line that arched between his eyes, something Mason would normally associate with a fifty-year-old marketing director who had been through the cola wars.
“It’s a pack animal originally from South America,” Mason told him at the same time his sister said, “It’s that thing Kuzco was inThe Emperor’s New Groove, dummy. We just saw that last week.”
“That was an awesome movie,” Dane said, keeping the peace like he always did. “Do you want to be Jason-llama?”
“I don’t want llama-face!” Jason protested. “Make it something else!”
“Jay-bird,” Mason muttered under his breath. With this kid’s attitude, he would be behind bars soon enough.
“I like that!” Jason said chirpily. “She can be Holly-bell and I can be Jay-bird and—”
“Look! Uncle Clay just saved a ball!” Holly-bell chimed in. “Go, Uncle Clay, go!”
They all turned and cheered, and Clay cannoned the ball back into play. Thank God—the kids actually knew soccer, and watched and cheered, and Mason could concentrate on Terry.
From a strictly observational view, he was both an amazing player and an exasperating one.
He was amazing because he was squirrel-quick and an amazing ball handler. As soon as he saw an opening, he could steal the ball from the opposition’s best forward and be driving down the center line toward the goal.
He was an exasperating player because he was frequently out of position, and he didn’t know where any of his teammates were. If he got stopped at the goal line, he had no idea where to pass the ball. Skipper would be yelling at him—“Jefferson, dammit, you got three goddamned forwards, use us!”—and he’d be playing footwork games with the opposition’s defense.
Mason was surprised Skipper didn’t just chuck the ball at the back of his head.
But he didn’t. Nobody did. Instead, they called out to him, frequently, and pulled him back into the game they were playing and not the one he’d locked himself into at the goal line. They didn’t often score a goal that way—and twice they had an offsides penalty—but nobody seemed put out.
But the third time Terry did it, right before the half, Mason let out a big sigh.
“Gonna say anything?” Dane asked quietly.
Mason thought about it. “He needs to see how it should work,” he said after a moment. “He needs a picture in his head. I wonder if there’s any pro soccer on this afternoon.”
“There’s always pro soccer somewhere,” Dane muttered, hitting his phone. After a few moments wreaking whatever magic he knew, he grunted. “Good. Done. We’re set up to tape a game happening in Brazil in ten minutes. As soon as you’re home, look it up on the DVR. You can use it as foreplay.”
“Dane!” Mason hissed, glancing at their young and grumpy companions.
Who were both busy jumping up and down because Richie had just scored a goal.
Mason clapped and yelled “Yay Richie!” while the whistle blew and all the guys went to get a water. Terry and Carpenter came wandering down to their corner of the field, both of them carrying water and extra energy bars for their audience, and Mason smiled weakly.
