“Policy and Prose, which is about writing persuasive legislative works.”
“You interested in politics?” I ask in surprise, halting in the middle of clearing away the breakfast shit. She just didn’t seem the type—not that I really know what that type would be.
“No, I’m interested in policy. I’d like to get a job at a think tank and just write all day. That’d be my dream job. It’s one of the things I like about mock trial. It forces you to look at one problem from both sides. We have to present both defense and plaintiff sides of the case.”
“Cool.” We need smart people writing our laws. Her black case catches my eye. “Do you need to give yourself a shot? I assume you can do it yourself, but I’m here to help if you need it.”
“Yes, but I’d rather not while you’re here.”
“Gotcha. I’ll take this stuff downstairs. You have everything you need before we leave?”
“Before we leave for where?” Her forehead crinkles.
“Before we leave for class.”
“I thought you weren’t going to class.”
“I’m not. I’m walking you to class.”
As I exit, she’s still sputtering.
16
Matty
In the end, I let her go by herself. I know full well she doesn’t want to be seen with me because of Ace. Isn’t that a kicker? I’ve never had a problem with someone—girl or guy—wanting to be seen with me. Where the hell did he think she was going to sleep? Shit, that he just kicked her out and didn’t make sure she had a safe place last night really rustled my jimmies.
Even if I did have a friend like Luce whom I hadn’t tried to bone a hundred different ways, I wouldn’t have made her sleep in the living room of a house that saw more action than a brothel in Reno.
“You want to tell me what the hell that’s about?” Hammer questions when the door closes. “When we gave you all that information, I thought you’d use it to, like, persuade her to help our cause. Not into your bed.” He stops and glares at me. “Are you trying to use your dick to convince her that Ace needs to move?”
“I don’t know whether to be chuffed or disturbed you think my dick is that powerful.” I scratch my chest, debating whether I want to go over to the athletic facility for something to eat or just rustle up a mid-morning snack here. Five pieces of bacon and a piece of toast aren’t enough to keep a bird alive.
“Seriously, man. Sleeping with her? That’s low, buddy.” Hammer follows me into the kitchen.
“I’m not. Or I did sleep with her, but that’s all we did. Sleep.” The refrigerator is alarmingly empty. During the season, we almost always grab food at the athletic center. Dinners are on campus. But we’re in that weird period of no practice and no games. There’s only the morning weight training that we’re unofficially required to attend daily, and so we’re eating more at home. So much so that we only have a half gallon of orange juice, a case of beer, and what looks like a brick of moldy cheese. Hammer must have used the last of our food to make breakfast.
“Brother, you can tell me. I’ll only judge you for today.”
“I’m not lying to you. Shit, I can’t believe I’m trying to convince you I didn’t sleep with a chick.” I throw up my hands. “Why don’t we have any food?”
“Because going to the grocery store is more painful than an enema?” Hammer suggests. “Look, I believe you. But how’d that happen? She just trip and fall into your bed? She pass out on the way to class and you carried her home?”
“How about her apartment was being fumigated, she was supposed to crash in Ace’s room, he brought home a jersey chaser, and she was stuck sleeping on a couch in their living room?”
Hammer’s mouth drops open. “You’re fucking me.”
“Nope.”
“Duuuude.”
“I know.” I head for my room and start dressing. We need food and probably some basic supplies. I check the toothpaste in my bathroom. Yup. Almost gone.
“What is wrong with that guy?” Hammer asks. He has three sisters and ever since his away-game hijinks with his ex, he’s turned over a new leaf. He’s been pushing his sisters at his teammates because he loves us and knows—despite our occasional propensity to be dogs—that we’re decent human beings and would make good partners…eventually. Actually, if there’s a guy who should be giving advice in a women’s magazine, it probably is Hammer. He claims he’s a reformed man.
“This stuff is fucking with Ace’s head.”
“I don’t know, man. You don’t treat a friend like that,” Hammer says dubiously.
“Don’t make me defend him anymore. He told me yesterday he’s not moving.”
“The D guys are already watching the boy on YouTube. The backfield was talking about him over at Bish’s place and they were more excited than they would be if a whole busload of prostitutes were dumped off.”