Page 15 of The Last Guy On Earth
He nods, like he’s thinking it over. “Thing is, Coach, you likeeverybody. So I gotta wonder about this guy. I got curious and I googled him. You two were teammates once?”
“Uh-huh,” I say quickly. “Long time ago.”
His eyebrows quirk. “And you didn’t get along?”
“Not always,” I hedge, wondering how to end this conversation. “But that was kid stuff. He’s, uh, a good guy. I’ll get over my snit and figure out how he fits into our organization.”
“Okay,” Kapski says, still frowning. “Just let me know if I can help out? We don’t have a lot of time to gel as a team. We got fourteen games in January.”
“We do,” I agree. “And we’re going to be unstoppable.”
He gives me a knowing grin. “All right. Later, Coach.”
“Good work today,” I tell him before he clomps off to the showers.
After he goes, I lean back against the concrete wall and stare up into the rafters. What the hell am I going to do about Jethro Hale?
NINE
Fifteen Years Ago
JANUARY
On a snowy nightright after the team wins a home game against Green Bay, Clay finally holds his damn party.
Jethro has pitched in as best he can. He helped clean up the apartment. He’s gathered up all their valuables—except for the stereo speakers, at Clay’s urging—and stashed them under his bed before wedging the bedroom door shut.
He doesn’t trust people to respect his stuff, and he can’t afford to be robbed. If it were up to him, he and Clay would be the only people who ever set foot in this apartment. He’s half hoping that nobody will show up, although that would make Clay sad. His roommate still seems to think this party is the answer to all their problems.
So when their teammates start streaming through the door in their wet shoes, Jethro doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. He opens a beer for himself and parks his ass against the wall of the kitchen, where he can see all the action at once. And, bonus, it puts him close to the drinks and snacks.
Clay has gone all out on the refreshments. There are two coolers full of spiked punch—a red version and a golden one. It’s kept cold by giant ice balls with hockey pucks frozen into theircenters. It’s a detail that might seem like he’s trying too hard. But coming from Clay, it just works.
Likewise, the food is a dazzling array of expensive-looking sausage meats and cheeses that Jethro can’t pronounce. Platters cover the countertops. There are olives and pickles and some funny-looking candied nuts.
“Try this with a pita chip,” Clay says, offering Jethro a bowl of dip. “It’s made from roasted red peppers, white beans, and feta.”
Jethro doesn’t need the explanation. He’d eat anything Clay put in front of him. And the dip is exceptional, tasting of fresh garlic and lemons. The whole effort is classier than Busker, New York really deserves.
It doesn’t take long before their apartment is heaving with people. Jethro recognizes about a third of them. Whoever they are, they seem pretty stoked to eat Clay’s food and drink his liquor.
Jethro’s vantage point allows him to watch Clay, whose smile shines on everyone tonight like he’s a human lighthouse. He shakes hands and slaps backs as Jethro traces him through the crowd, growing more uncomfortable by the second. It’s just plain weird to have all these people in their space, when he’s used to having all Clay’s attention to himself.
And it’s dawning on him that Clay isgoodat this. He knows which joke will make you laugh. He knows what you want to drink before you even know yourself. Before he met Clay, Jethro didn’t know that it was possible to be confident as well as anxious. Charming but also serious. Clay is the kind of guy you watch just to figure out what he’ll do next.
Jethro opens a succession of beers and witnesses an entire flock of women surround Clay. With his easy smile and his rich-boy good looks, he’s a magnet for female attention. Not that hockey players ever have trouble getting girls. Although Jethro is usually too busy or too broke to go out.
It’s entertaining to watch a busty woman in a Brutes jersey practically climb Clay like a tree. He’s perfectly nice to her in return, but he doesn’t accept the crystal-clear invitation.
Poor girl. She doesn’t know him as well as Jethro does, or she’d realize she’s wasting her time. Clay isn’t the kind of guy who’d drag her off to the bedroom in the middle of his own party. He’s too busy recommending the cheeses and making sure his playlist is still cranking.
Eventually, she gives up and settles for a D-man named Rezinski. They sneak out a half hour later, his hands already up her sweater. Clay waves them off cheerfully.
“Jetty!” a teammate yells. “Beer pong!”
Jethro realizes he’s been watching Clay for more than an hour, which is weird, even for him. So he turns to help some teammates count out beer cans on the wobbly dining table. He gets steadily drunker as the night wears on. Too bad they have practice at nine the next morning. Jethro knows he’ll have regrets.
At three a.m. the apartment finally empties out, leaving Clay buzzing around, cleaning up bottles and cups.
