Intercepted

“That was one time! How was I supposed to know everyone around us would get so upset?” I try to defend myself, but when he stops at a red light and turns his wide eyes my way, I see the error of my ways. “I mean . . . if that ever actually happened it would only happen once . . .”

“I thought they were exaggerating!”

“I just get a little . . . intense when I go to games.” I shrug. “I’m competitive. So kill me.”

“Do me a favor, try not to start any fights when you come to the game. I think I might get a fine if I run into the stands to fight some guy.” They’re pretty strict about that stuff, but . . .

“No promises. Lenny’s probably been bored out of his mind without me.”

“Who the hell is Lenny?” he asks, probably already thinking of ways to revoke his invitation.

#NoTakeBacks

“He checks the tickets for section 112. I’ve been sitting in his section for years. He loves it when I give him a little extra excitement.”

“God help me,” he asks the roof. “No promises because she’s got a fucking attendant who loves her antics.”

“Not even god can help you, Pope,” I say once I’ve stopped laughing. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn to love my antics.”

“I have no doubt.”

And the way he says it, I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about more than my game-time behavior.

Twenty-four

Once the two away games finally pass by, Naomi and I plan for her to pick me up and ride to the game together. However, before that can happen, she calls and requests an emergency meeting.

I’m not shocked.

I guess some drama went down at this week’s Wednesday meeting, most likely the unusual pairing of Marlee (the groupie) and Gavin (the naive).

Plus, Naomi has a flare for the dramatic and why discuss things over the phone when you can call an emergency meeting?

And in Naomi’s terms . . . and mine . . . an emergency meeting can constitute a sleepover at my house, filled with all sorts of Girl Scout activities like working on our bedazzling, margarita, and gossip badges.

“I’ve missed these.” Naomi takes a sip out of her margarita glass without lifting the glass, even though she finished painting her nails thirty minutes ago and there’s no way they’re still wet. “I’ve missed you too, but your margaritas are the best.”

“Thank you . . . I think.” I walk to the kitchen and grab the blender with the rest of the margarita in it.

Tequila goes well with gossip, but I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about what our shirts are going to look like. I spent a mint ordering all these crystals, so this is kind of a one-shot gig.

I pour the remainder of the drink into Naomi’s glass and pick my tweezers back up, returning to my bedazzling project.

“Now that you have me drunk, are you ready to hear about the last meeting?” she asks.

“I think I’m the one who needs to be drunk for this, but sure.” I’m lying on the floor, my face only inches away from my shirt as I drop the bling onto the glue. It was so much easier ordering my Alexander jersey from the jersey lady. This is stupid.

“Okay, so good news or bad news first?”

“Bad.”

“Shit.” She looks at me over the rim of her glass. “I thought you’d choose good news. You gotta hear that first or it won’t work.”

I roll onto my back, knocking over the plate holding all the crystals.

“Dammit!” I glare at her. “Why’d you even ask me then?”

I climb to my knees and crawl around the floor, collecting all the rogue bling.

“Sorry.” She shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “So the good news is Ava broke up with Chris.”

“Shut up!” I turn to her, eyes wide, crystals long forgotten. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. She dumped him for an NBA player, said a football player’s life is ‘too unpredictable’ for her.” She uses air quotes. “But we all know she means a football player’s paycheck. NBA is that guaranteed money, honey.” She snaps at me in Z formation.

“Does it make me a horrible person for finding this so funny?” I ask, wiping away the tears falling down my cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Not at all. Karma’s a bitch. We’re allowed to laugh once she’s done her job.” She says it like it’s written in the Ten Commandments. Which, maybe it is? I wouldn’t know.

“Oh good. I like that rule.” I turn back to my shirt, but then I remember that was only the good news and I still have the bad to go and roll back onto my elbows. “What’s the bad?”

“There are two things.” She puts both hands in the air when I open my mouth to yell at her. “Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger. Would you want to get sent into battle without proper intel first? No, you wouldn’t.”

“Ugh. Fine.” I move to the couch and sit next to her. The good news was too good. I know what’s coming is going to suck. “Tell me.”

“Chris has a new girlfriend.” She just floats it out there.

“Already?” Why this shocks me? Who knows. I already know he’s got a roster.

“It’s Gavin’s PR chick, Madison. You know, the one you called Snobby the Snow Bitch.”

The fast, Band-Aid-ripping delivery worked with the first news. This one? Not so much. This was like ripping out stitches before they were ready to come out.

“What!” I jump off of the couch into standing position. “Nay. You’re messing with me. My ex is not dating Gavin’s good friend who I’m pretty sure hates me, is he? This is your attempt at a joke, right?” I stare at her, waiting for her to start laughing, but she never does.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t believe it either when she showed up at the meeting on Wednesday.”

“WHAT!” I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

I dated Chris for years before those bitches let me in and Madison dates Chris for what? A week? And they let her in? No. Fuuuuuuuck no. Smells like a setup.

“And there’s more.” Naomi squeezes her eyes shut and bites her bottom lip.

“What the hell else could’ve happened? It was one meeting.” I fall back onto the couch beside her, not sure if I can stand more news if it’s anything like the last. “Just say it, Nay.”

Her eyes stay closed as she draws in a deep breath.

“DixiewashuggingMadisonandtalkingaboutyoutoo,” she says too fast for me to understand.

“Slow down. All I got was Dixie.” In hindsight, I probably should’ve saved the margaritas for after story time.

“Dixie was hugging Madison and talking about you too,” she says slower, not by much . . . but enough for me to understand and wish I didn’t.

“Dixie?” All the anger has fled and now it’s being filled with hurt, which really sucks, because it’s so much easier to be angry. “But she just texted me the other day.”

“Yeah, on Tuesday to see if you wanted to grab lunch.”

I run the days back through my head and almost—but don’t—cry when I realize she’s right.

“She told us you said you were busy but would find a day that worked. If you would’ve said yes, I would’ve told you sooner. I promise. But since you said no, I figured it’d be better to tell you in person.” She looks so nervous telling me this, and I feel terrible that she’s been put in this situation. “She said she thinks you lied about the attack just so you could have a chance to sink your claws into Gavin. Don’t hate me.”