“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I was mortified. I read down the sheet. The letters beside each name were V’s, GG’s, BG’s, or W’s. There was one W listed for Game 2. Her name was Krista Campbell.
“Why would any of them choose a ‘whore’ if she doesn’t score well?” I asked.
“I don’t think they get to choose any girls they want. They have to pick from a list. They change out the girls every game,” Terry explained. “No girl plays in games back to back.”
“I see. Don’t want these girls feeling like sluts,” I said.
“No, just labeled as such,” Terry replied.
I sat back and looked at the ceiling. “So what’s ‘FSL’?”
“Well, there’s your Fantasy Football League.”
“Uh huh.”
“Sooo . . .”
I looked at Terry. “Fantasy Sex League?”
“Close,” he said. “Fantasy Slut League.”
I snorted. “So now they’re all sluts? What about the virgin thing?”
“I guess the whole point is to make them sluts,” Terry said.
“How do you know it’s ‘Fantasy Slut League’?”
“I saw it in an email. Can’t take credit for figuring it out myself,” he said. “You’re scheduled for Game 3.”
I nearly shit my pants. “Excuse me?!”
“I found the list of girls for Game 3. You’re one of the picks.”
My heartbeat sped up so fast I was afraid I’d have a panic attack. I closed my eyes. Fields, fields, fields. Where were the damn fields?
“My category?” I breathed, eyes still clamped shut. I really didn’t want to ask, but I had to. How would these guys know either way? Then I thought of Tanner. Oh God. What if Parker asked Tanner about me? What if Tanner ran his mouth about Finn? He knew about Finn. Don’t ask me how, but the boy knew.
“‘Good Girl’,” Terry replied.
I arched my brow and pursed my lips. “How do they know?”
“Spies, Wright. The question is, are you?”
“That’s none of your business, you dirty old man,” I spat.
It wasn’t accurate, though. A ‘Good Girl’ meant that I hadn’t had sex, and that wasn’t accurate one bit.
“When does Game 3 start?” I asked.
“Not for several months, but don’t worry. I’ll let you know when they’ve drafted their picks,” Terry said.
I stared at him. I must have looked scared because he shook his head.
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Terry said. “I promise.”
I nodded.
“But you have to be smart about this, Wright,” he continued. “Don’t go putting yourself in some compromising position just to find out more information about this Cal dude. I understand why you want to get him, but you’ve gotta play it safe.”
I nodded.
“I mean, I know she was your best friend and all—”
“I got it, Terry.”
“But this could really be some serious shit. And I just think it’d be better to—”
“Terry? I got it.”
Terry closed his mouth. I chewed on mine for something to do while I thought.
“Let me see that spreadsheet again,” I said. I scanned it. “Where’s Cal’s name? I see Parker, Mike, Hunter, Tim, and Aaron, but where’s Cal?”
Terry looked over the document. “He must be sitting this one out.”
“Yeah, but why?”
***
At least I’m not a whore. That’s all I could think about while I sat on the couch watching my dad read.
“You’re home late. Work go that long?” he asked, not looking up from his Reader’s Digest.
“This couple would not leave,” I said. There was no way I was telling Dad I went to a 36-year-old man’s house to discover the details of a fantasy slut league.
He nodded, preoccupied.
Suddenly I wanted to talk to my dad. Not about anything in particular. I really just wanted him to make me laugh. I needed a distraction from all the information I recently learned.
“What was it like growing up in the Northeast?” I asked.
Dad glanced over his magazine. “Really?”
I nodded.
“Cold.”
I cocked my head at him and raised my eyebrows.
“Not friendly,” he offered.
“Do better,” I said.
Dad drew in his breath. “Why are you interested in this all of a sudden? Isn’t there a show on TV you watch at this time?”
“Dad, it’s midnight.”
“Exactly. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed? You’re the old person here.”
“Cute.”
I winked at him. He winked back. It was our thing. I remembered doing it ever since he taught me how to wink when I was four. I didn’t realize how much I missed it when we lived apart.
“Just tell me,” I said.
“All right. I lived in a row home. You know what that is?”
“Those houses that are joined together like townhomes?”
“Yep. Space up north is hard to come by unless you’ve got a lot of money. Most of the houses are smashed together.”
“So no back yard?” I asked.
“Um, a little one. About the size of this living room,” Dad replied.
I looked around. “That’s sad.”
“It was what it was.”