“You give me shit for being down,” Colt bitches at Sloane. “Meanwhile that dude is Tim-fucking-Burton.”
She purses her lips as she watches him walk away. “I feel bad for him. It’s been a rough couple of days. It’s his first Thanksgiving without his family, you guys lost to the Jets—“
“Fucking unacceptable!”
“—and now his ex-wife is in labor, giving birth to another man’s baby.” She looks around the table. “We couldn’t leave him alone tonight, right?”
“No, you’re right,” Trey agrees. “But maybe bringing him to a bar wasn’t the best idea.”
Hollis nods solemnly. “You’re right. We should be at a strip club.”
“That’s worse, but not by much. Alcohol isn’t really the best thing for a depressed man.”
“Bullshit,” Colt counters. “It’s the only thing to give a depressed man.”
“You’re not depressed. You’re sullen. It’s different.”
“He’s not even drinking,” Sloane reminds Trey, talking about Andreas.
“That’s true.”
Colt’s phone vibrates violently on the table. He looks at it briefly before shoving it across the table to Sloane. “It’s my mom. Talk to her for me.”
She frowns down at the Kodiak yellow phone between them. “No.”
“Yes. She’ll know I’ve been drinking if I text her back and she’ll be worried if I don’t.”
“Have Lilly text with her.”
“Mom’s gonna want to talk about the game and Lilly doesn’t know fuck all about football.” He rubs my leg under the table, looking at me repentantly. “Sorry, Hendricks.”
I shrug, unperturbed. “Nothing to be sorry about. It’s true.”
Sloane swipes up the phone and taps away at the screen. “If I’m going to manage your personal life too, you’re gonna owe me a raise.”
“Your services will be reflected in your Christmas bonus.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You’ll love it. It’s gonna be a big one.”
“Great.”
“Cock full of Christmas cheer.”
“You mean ‘chock’ full?” Hollis asks, his words nearly drowned out by the applause filling the bar. The man behind the mic is mercifully finished.
Colt shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”
Sloane glares at him. “If your idea of a Christmas bonus is to give me a dick pic, your next endorsement deal will be for penis implants, ‘cause I’ll break your shit clean off.”
“She’ll do it, man,” Trey tells him. “And if she doesn’t, I will.”
“Sorry to disappoint you both,” Colt drawls, leaning back to throw his arm around my shoulders, “but my dick is off the market. The only person getting a picture of it this Christmas is Lilly.”
I frown. “That’s not—no. Do not give me that for Christmas.”
“Not even a little one? Wallet size?”
“So life size?” Tyus asks.
“Fuck you, Anthony.”
“I’d rather get nothing,” I tell Colt. “But thanks. That’s a very… it’s thoughtful. Very thoughtful.”
He snatches up his beer with his free hand. “You people are impossible to shop for.”
“Jewelry,” Sloane tells him frankly. “We like jewelry. The sparkly kind.”
Colt looks at me sideways. “Is that true? Should I get you jewelry for Christmas?”
“The mic is open!” A woman announces on the stage, trying to amp up the room. “Who’s next?!”
I shake my head at Colt. “You don’t have to get me anything for Christmas.”
“That’s a yes,” Sloane informs him certainly.
Colt grins. “Is she right?”
“I don’t know,” I laugh uncomfortably. The entire table is looking at me, waiting for me to pick a Christmas gift from Colt friggin’ Avery. It’s awkward as shit. “I do my Christmas shopping at Target, not Cartier. I honestly don’t know much about jewelry. I don’t wear it very often because it gets in the way in the bakery. If I’m wearing a bracelet or a long necklace they could get caught in the mixer. There was this guy at a big bakery in San Francisco last year who had his wedding ring on and it got caught in a machine and tore his finger clean off. It went into the batter and they…” They’re all still watching me, more intently now than ever, and I suddenly realize I’ve pulled a Rona; I got nervous and started rambling. Oversharing. “Never mind. Yes. Jewelry is great.”
“For fuck’s sake man, do not get her jewelry,” Hollis tells Colt sternly.
“Definitely don’t get her a ring,” Sloane adds, twirling one of her own on her slim finger, a distant look in her eyes.
“What about earrings?” Colt asks me lightly. “Is there any way earrings could gruesomely mutilate you at work?”
“Not that I know of,” I laugh.
“Then that’s what I’ll get you.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
“I’m not getting you anything. I’m getting you earrings.”
“Or you’ll ask Sloane to go out and get them since she’s managing your life now,” I tease.
Sloane chuckles. “You’d be better off.”
Colt shakes his head before pulling me closer to his side. “No. I’ll get them for you myself.”