Page 88 of The New Guy
Castro shakes his head. “Bad call, kid. But I’m available to eat your homemade leftovers. Anytime.”
“Good to know.” I glance up and find Hudson watching me. He looks away quickly, like he didn’t mean to be caught.
Henry is on the phone, though, leaving Hudson to his own devices. And the whole room hears him say, “Okay, I can be there in twenty minutes! On my way.”
Then he pockets his phone, and I realize that bigger things are afoot than my stupid broken heart. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh yeah.” He gives a nervous smile. “But my twins are coming. Gavin, I need you tonight…”
“No problem,” I say quickly. Reggie has already been warned. “You go have some babies.”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Henry look nervous. “She made it to thirty-four weeks, so it’s going to be okay.”
“It totally is,” Castro chimes in as he swings his legs off my table. “You’re gonna be on the hook for a lot of Cuban cigars though, man. Don’t forget about us.”
“Like you’d let me,” Henry says with a nervous smile. He grabs his bag and checks his pockets.
Castro starts clapping as he turns for the door. “Good luck, dad! We need updates!”
The rest of us clap, too, and everyone in the vicinity cheers. He pumps a fist in the air and strides out.
Suddenly my day is twice as busy. “Okay, fellas. Who’s next? I’ve got one hour left here and then I have to set up the stadium.”
* * *
From the moment of Henry’s departure, the entire day is like a long skid into chaos.
I’ve never worked a home game before, and the setup is unfamiliar to me. It takes me two hours to do what Henry probably accomplishes in thirty minutes.
At five o’clock, when the players are trickling in, my sister calls. “There’s no need to panic, but where do you keep the Children’s Tylenol?”
My heart drops. “Why? Is Jordyn sick?”
“She’s cranky and a little warm. At pickup, her teacher passed out a note that said the flu is going around. There were eight kids absent from her class today, including Lila.”
Lila is her new best friend.
Hell.
“The Tylenol is in a shoebox at the top of my closet.” I don’t keep any drugs in the bathroom where Jordyn might find them. “There’s one of those forehead thermometers in the medicine cabinet. Keep me posted, okay?”
“She’s going to be fine, little brother. I’m going to order soup for dinner.”
“Good call,” I say uselessly. “Thank you for handling this.”
“It’s fine,” she repeats. “We’re fine. Go beat Boston. Jordyn wants to see you on TV.”
“Okay. Bye.” But when we hang up, I feel dread in the pit of my stomach.
The team captain is waiting on my table, though, so it’s time to get to work.
“It’s great that you’re doing this,” O’Doul says as I work on his shoulder. “Before you came along, Henry never took a game night off.”
“He has a lot on his plate right now,” I say as I work my thumbs into his left trapezius muscle.
“Yeah, but he trusts you,” O’Doul says. “So now he gets to stand by his wife and not think about us for once.”
“Thanks, man.”
