Chapter Ten #2
Another murmur. Finn understood. That was good, steady work that would last long past their usual film schedule—a reliable paycheck that would let them cut back on the brutal evening-and-weekend hours many of them spent teaching and coaching.
But it also meant a lot of time on the road. Finn hadn’t minded the travel when he was competing with Paris; it was part of the job, and having his girlfriend with him meant he didn’t get as homesick.
“But there are other options too. The situation is fluid, and we’re still looking at what makes the most sense.”
“We’ll be having individual meetings with all of you over the next few weeks. You can ask any questions or voice any concerns, and we’ll also talk to you about the various roles we’re considering for you. Keep your eyes on your calendars.”
If Producer Paul tried to schedule Finn’s meeting for Tuesday, when he was supposed to be getting railed, he would have a fit. But there wasn’t much he could do, aside from sigh with relief when the calendar invite popped up for lunchtime on Wednesday instead.
By the time Sunday-morning practice rolled around, Robbie was starting to question the life choices that had led him to this moment.
He’d just spent the last sixty excruciating minutes manhandling Finn around the rink for their last on-ice practice before the next performance, and Robbie wanted to eat him alive and then cuddle him about it.
But like a good parental figure—and a total sucker—he’d let Sawyer talk him into an afternoon- and evening-filling set of plans. Why was life conspiring against Robbie’s dreams of spoiling his dream guy?
It wasn’t until they were getting redressed in the locker room and Robbie was counting down the seconds before they parted that it occurred to him what an idiot he was.
“We’re going bowling,” he said out loud, apropos of nothing.
Finn looked up from his gear bag and arched an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“I’m going bowling with two teenagers and no adult backup. I’m clearly an idiot or a real idiot.”
Finn snorted, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that you mention it….”
“Brat,” Robbie lobbed back, then continued making his point. “I’m going with real idiot considering not only did I not ask anyone else to join us, but both of these teens like to hang out with an older brother figure who just happens to be the guy I want to be spending more time with right now.”
Finn was full on beaming. “Wow. You really are an idiot.”
“So you’ll come, then?”
“Come where? I don’t think I heard an invitation anywhere in there.”
Robbie didn’t throw a dirty sock at Finn in retaliation, mostly because he’d already packed them away.
Instead, he slid to his knees, clasped both hands in front of his face, and begged.
“Oh please, oh wonderful and gracious Finnegan of the Ice Dance, please rescue me from hours of being the sole target of teen ridicule and sass by accompanying me on this perilous quest to the alley of bowling.”
Flushed with laughter and maybe some embarrassment, Finn waved his hands between them and beat at Robbie’s clutching fists. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you. Geez. Stand up before you injure your knees.”
“You implying I’m old?” Robbie asked as he bounced up.
“I’m implying that you’re an athlete about to perform on TV and don’t need sore knees.” Finn smacked him with the back of his hand. “Now let’s get out of here. You get Sawyer, I’ll get Imogen? Unless, are they already together?”
“Nah. Sawyer and I were going to pick her up. Something about an epic gaming battle this morning?” Robbie shrugged, opened the door, and bowed low to usher Finn through it.
“I’m leaving now before you get any more embarrassing.”
“Just wait until you see me in a bowling alley!” Robbie called after him. Finn didn’t look back, just flicked his fingers over his shoulder in a toodle-oo gesture, so Robbie enjoyed watching him go.
An hour later, Sawyer looked up from his phone just as Robbie drove through the crucial intersection and said, “Hey noob, you missed your turn.”
“Nope.” Robbie waited a beat to let Sawyer stew in confusion. “Finn’s bringing her.”
“What? You invited Finn?” Was Robbie imagining it, or was Sawyer excited about that?
“What am I, a monster? How could I deprive him of curly fries and bowling-shoe rentals?”
Imogen stood outside the front door, bouncing on her colourful be-Chucked toes as Robbie parked the car. “This is going to be great. I can’t believe Sawyer’s never been bowling before.”
“What?” Finn gasped. “You’re telling me that Sawyer has managed to escape—I mean, has tragically missed out on this iconic American activity? How sad for him.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Robbie said there would be junk food.”
“And so there shall, young squire, for the alley of bowling has many empty calories for sale,” Robbie proclaimed as he slung an arm around Sawyer’s shoulders.
Sawyer leaned back to look up at Robbie and presumably to put some distance between them. “I have no idea what this bit is that you’re doing, but it’s cringe and I want nothing to do with it.” He ducked out of Robbie’s grip, grabbed Imogen’s hand, and hurried into the alley.
“Ouch. Abandoned by your kid.” Finn offered a sympathetic smile.
“For being embarrassing. Which means I win.”
“Only if he doesn’t try to get two lanes to stay away from you and cost you twice as much in lane fees.”
“We should probably get in there before that thought occurs to him and he remembers that he’s got an emergency card linked to my bank accounts.”
Sawyer didn’t try to book two lanes, but he did ask the person behind the counter if they could have the furthest, most out-of-the-way lane.
Her heart was clearly moved by Sawyer’s cute looks and fluttering lashes, or by Robbie’s familiar face and hair, because she basically put them in the corner with a smile and conspiratorial wink.
“I can’t remember the last time I bowled,” Finn admitted as he put on his borrowed shoes.
Robbie eyed his own before deeming them acceptable. “So you’re rusty, then.”
“When was the last time you bowled?” Finn shot back.
“You doubting my alley prowess?”
Finn arched his eyebrows. “You gonna start bragging about what you get up to in alleys?”
And okay, he had a point. That had sounded much dirtier than Robbie intended.
He glanced at Imogen and Sawyer, who were absorbed in the screen, filling in the names of players.
“Tempting, but maybe later, darling.” He finished tying his laces and slapped his thighs.
“For now, the lane is calling and we’re going to find out who the superior bowler is. ”
“And you think that’s gonna be you?”
“It’s gotta be somebody,” Robbie chirped. “Why not me?”
They were all terrible. The game was more of a stumble to the bottom than a race to the top. They were all prone to gutter balls, and soon they cheered any ball that knocked down pins.
“This is really embarrassing for you,” Sawyer told Robbie as they neared the end of the first game.
“For me? Why not you?”
Sawyer shrugged. “You were the pro athlete for, like, twenty years. Your ineptitude just hits different.”
“Savagery. Brutal savagery. Why don’t you pick on Finn?”
“He’s got twenty more points than you,” Imogen pointed out and then took a sip of water.
Robbie clutched at his heart and slumped back into his seat. “Traitors all. I rent you the finest bowling footwear and buy you their most coveted snacks—”
“Not yet, you haven’t,” Sawyer pointed out.
“—and this is how you repay me. Vicious slander and libel. Turning against me.”
“It’s your bowl, drama queen,” Finn said. “And nobody’s put anything in print unless you count the score.”
Robbie popped up and swanned off to knock down a grand total of three pins.
As Imogen took her turn, he sat back down next to Sawyer and was suddenly assailed by a memory that had him shaking his head. “You know, I went bowling with your mom and dad and their friends once when I was about your age. I don’t think I’m any better at it now than I was then.”
“They took you on their date?” Sawyer asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Ah, I was visiting while my juniors team had a break. Our parents pretty much forced Vince to let me tag along.” Not that Vince had minded all that much—he showed Robbie off as his future pro-athlete little brother.
Which made it that much funnier when he sucked at bowling.
“Anyway. Your mom was awful at it. Worse than you, even. Worse than me.” He poked Sawyer’s side. At the end of the lane, Imogen put both hands up in a victory V as her first ball knocked down five pins.
Robbie should’ve waited to tell this story until after she finished—he shouldn’t take the shine off her triumph. So he kept his mouth shut until Imogen somehow picked up the spare and got high-fives all around.
Then he said, “She was, like, the worst loser too.”
Sawyer gave him his full attention. “Wait, really?”
“Oh, yeah. I could tell she was trying not to be a bad sport, but she had no poker face at all. She was miserable.”
“So what happened?”
He didn’t realize Finn had stopped to listen to the story, interrupting the game play, until the computer beeped at them in reminder.
“Ah, well, she decided if she wasn’t going to be the best, she was going to be the most entertaining.
” He smiled at the memory. “So after her third gutter ball….” He glanced at Finn, who raised his eyebrows.
Robbie had been so good until now. He motioned for Finn to stand up with him and grabbed the neon yellow ball Finn had been using.
Finn seemed to understand Robbie’s intention without him saying a word, because he let Robbie move him around until he was standing. “She took the ball like this.” Robbie gave it to Finn so that he held it in a two-handed grip, arms extended. “She waddled up to the lane.”
Finn gave him a knowing look over his shoulder but obediently walked stiff-legged to the end of the lane.