Chapter 27 - June
June
When I was a physical trainer at the University of Georgia, the week between Christmas and New Year’s was always relaxing. The bowl games we played in were usually done by then, so I rarely had any real work to do.
It didn’t take long for Rhett to hit me up.
Rhett: Hey there, pretty lady. Want to come over and get into some trouble tonight?
Me: My parents are still in town. They leave New Year’s Day.
Rhett: Bring them. I’m great with parents. Plus, I saw your mom sitting behind the bench yesterday. She’s hot.
Me: EW GROSS NO
Rhett: Ahahahaha I wish you were here to see how hard I’m laughing.
Me: I’m glad you’re getting a kick out of this. We can hook up after they’re gone.
Rhett: But that’s literally NEXT YEAR. I’ll be old and frail by then.
Me: Then I’ll pump you full of Viagra and make you get to work. No excuses.
Rhett: Damn, you sound like Coach Jay. Minus the Viagra.
Rhett: But I guess I can wait.
Rhett: You can’t see it, but I’m pouting right now.
Me: I promise to make it up to you when we do find time together :-)
Rhett: You can’t see it, but now I’m smiling.
Rhett: And I have a massive boner. Without any Viagra!
Even though the players had the day between games off, there was a staff meeting scheduled at the arena. I gathered in Coach Jay’s office with three of the assistants, the head of Arena Security, and an Atlanta Police Detective.
“We’re fairly confident it’s an isolated incident,” the detective explained. “Something similar happened to the Falcons last season. A note was left in someone’s office threatening a bomb. Nothing happened, and they never left another threat.”
The head of Arena Security nodded in agreement. “We’ve increased the number of security personnel just in case. They’re at every entrance, and in the security office around the clock. I can’t promise anything, but I’m confident this won’t happen again.”
After the meeting was over, I lingered in Coach Jay’s office. “You don’t look convinced,” I said.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, June? I don’t know what to think.”
“Do you think we should be worried?”
“The only thing I’m worried about is making the playoffs,” he replied. “I don’t have the bandwidth to care about anything outside of my control.”
He glanced up and saw that I was still concerned. His expression softened. “The way I see it? If someone wants to blow up the arena, they don’t leave a note. They just do it. I feel safe here, and so should you.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Although all the starters had the day off, the five players on the Injured Reserve list came in for their rehab assignments. I alternated between them in the workout room, watching as they walked on the treadmill, spun on the exercise bike, or did some light resistance training.
“Good workout today,” I told one player. “I don’t want to make any promises, but if things go well tomorrow, I think we can take you off the IR list next week.”
His eyes brightened. “Hell yeah. Thanks, June!”
“Now hit the treadmill or elliptical for a cool-down. Thirty minutes.”
There was an echo out in the arena. The booming of someone speaking through the arena sound system. The audio-visual guys were probably testing something. It was easy to forget that there were dozens of other people who worked for the Reapers and had their own practices to do.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” the player on the treadmill said. “I’m just walking. I won’t fall off.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m like a mother hen. I don’t rest until all the baby chicks are back in the coop.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a baby chick.”
“First time for everything,” I grinned.
The noise out in the arena became a little clearer, enough that I could make out a voice: “June Wilder. Please report to the ice. June Wilder to the ice.”
“What the…” I muttered.
“I’m seriously good here,” the player said. “Go see what that’s about.”
I felt a strange sense of foreboding as I left the player facilities and walked out into the arena. I knew everything was probably fine, but I was struck with the memory of being called into the principal’s office when I was fifteen.
The arena was dark, except for the massive screen suspended above the ice. There were words playing on the screen, but I couldn’t really read them, even when I squinted. “Hello?” I called.
“Back here!”
I turned and found Rhett sitting a few rows up in the stands, waving at me. I walked up the aisle until I reached him. There was a giant bag of popcorn in his lap, and two huge paper bags on the ground.
“You were the one who called me out here?” I asked.
He raised a hand-held microphone to his lips. “That is correct,” he said, voice booming through the speakers in the arena with a half-second delay.
“Wait. Why are you here on the team’s day off?”
Rhett patted the seat next to him. “I’m taking you out on a date. What’s your favorite soda?”
“I don’t really drink soda, but… Diet Dr. Pepper.”
He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a red can. “Here you go.”
“Are you David Copperfield? How did you do that?”
“I wasn’t sure what you drink, so I grabbed one of every kind of soda from the store. Same for candy.” He held open the other bag, which was filled with bags of Skittles, M&Ms, Twizzlers, and more.
“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but eating junk food at work isn’t my kind of date. And I’m sort of on the clock right now. I’ve got two players in the gym right now.”
“Hurry up and sit down,” Rhett insisted, pointing at the screen above the ice. “The movie’s starting.”
“Movie?”
The text that was on the screen earlier must have been opening credits, because now the title flashed across the huge television in big font:
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN
Starring: Gene Wilder
I whirled back to face Rhett. “You set up a movie date here at the arena?”
“Yes, and you’re kind of ruining it by just standing there.” He patted the seat next to him again. “Relax. I already told the guys in the workout room. They’re in on it.”
I finally sat down. “No wonder he was trying to make me leave.” I lowered my voice. “Won’t someone see us? And know we’re… involved?”
“I told Coach Jay that you’ve been stressed lately, and that I wanted to say thank you for helping me heal up.” He glanced sideways at me. “But you have to keep your hands to yourself, or this won’t look very platonic.”
Smiling, I grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bag in his lap. “Okay, this is actually really sweet.”
“I know, right? I’m fucking adorable.” He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, spilling several pieces down the front of his T-shirt. “You know why I chose this movie, right?”
“I do.”
“Because your name is June Wilder, and the lead actor in this is Gene Wilder!”
“Yes, I figured that out,” I laughed. “Are there any Reese’s Pieces in there?”
He fished around in the bag and came out with an orange bag. “You’d better believe it.”
“You know we can’t have sex after this date,” I said.
“This isn’t a date,” he said. “It’s a platonic work event. Like I said: keep your hands to yourself, ma’am. And stop ruining the movie! The beginning is important.”
I propped my feet up on the seats in front of me, cracked open my soda, and smiled as we watched the black-and-white film in happy silence.