Chapter 5 Hollis #2
“Those people aren’t my people. My people are always less organized and not as professional. My people are oversized children like their boss. You’ve been talking to my wife’s people. She’s much more professional about shit than me.”
I laugh again. “Well, thank her for me then.”
“Hey,” he says, his voice rising. “If you’re in town, why don’t you come by for dinner one night? Thank her yourself.”
My eyes grow wide as I watch myself in the mirror above the dresser.
“Really? That’s … very cool of you, Mr. Landry—”
“Lincoln. Please. Mr. Landry is my dad. Trust me when I tell you that the differences between us are massive.”
“Well, that’s a very nice offer, Lincoln, but it’s totally unnecessary. Covering the hotel was way more than enough.”
“I agree. But you don’t know my wife. She won’t agree.
As a matter of fact, when I tell her I talked to you and that you’re in town, she’s going to insist you come to dinner.
It’s just how she rolls. And, like it or not, you’ll end up at dinner because she doesn’t take no for an answer.
If I didn’t love her so much, it would be very fucking annoying. ”
I try to process the fact that I’m being invited somewhere with Lincoln fucking Landry.
What the heck is happening here?
What do I do? Do I just say yes because this is the coolest thing to ever happen to me? Or do I say no because why would a guy like this invite me to dinner?
“How about our house tonight at seven?” he asks.
“I …”
He laughs. “Just say yes. Unless you have other plans and really just can’t, you don’t have a choice. Trust me. I only golf once a week now. Before you know it, Danielle has you doing what she wants, and you’re happy about it. It’s fucked up.”
“I mean, I don’t have plans, so if you’re sure …”
“I am. I’ll text you the address in a little while. It’s totally casual, so don’t feel like you have to dress up or anything. Hell, I might even order pizza. You like pizza?”
I grin. “Who doesn’t?”
He just laughs. “Okay. Great. And bring whoever you’re traveling with—bring them all. We’re cutting into your holiday the way it is, so we’ll just make this a family affair.”
Fucking great.
Forcing a smile, I nod even though he can’t see me. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Cool. Well, I’ll see you and your guest or guests tonight.”
“Thank you, Lincoln. I appreciate the call and the dinner offer.”
“Not a problem. See you soon.”
“Goodbye,” I say.
I sit on the edge of the bed. My brain tries to process the conversation but fires too quickly from one talking point to another. Ultimately, though, it lands on the boiled-down fact that I’m going to dinner tonight at Lincoln Landry’s house.
Bring whoever you’re traveling with—bring them all.
I scrub a hand down my face.
“Can I show up alone?” I ask out loud, hoping a voice will sound out of nowhere and answer me.
The idea of arriving at Lincoln’s house by myself makes me want to puke.
I’m used to either having an entire football team or at least River and Crew with me for all important events.
If it’s not a football thing, I usually just don’t go.
It’s a survival skill I learned early on in life—opt out of everything you can.
If you’re not available, people can’t invade your shit.
It’s preventative protection at its best. A life condom, if you will.
This was one of the biggest reasons I wanted to turn down the Catching-A-Care thing to start with. I only agreed after a spirited argument to accept from Coach Herbert.
But now I’m not even sure if I can show up by myself. Will I seem like some kind of weirdo who comes by himself when he was instructed to bring his whole damn family?
Fuck.
My head hangs, the muscle pulling at the base of my skull. I have no idea what to do. All I know is that I wouldn’t be here if Coach hadn’t nominated me to start with.
I pick up my phone again and find Coach’s number.
Me: Why didn’t you tell me you nominated me?
It takes a few minutes of me staring at the screen before he responds.
Coach: I didn’t want to hear you complain or argue with me. How are you doing, kid?
Me: Okay, I guess.
Coach: Need anything?
My chest sinks a little.
I need a lot of things, but nothing I can ask him for. He can’t help me with it anyway.
Me: Nah, I’m good. Thanks.
Coach: Hit me up if you need anything, Hudson. I mean it.
I set the phone beside me and stare at the wall.
Over the past four years, Coach has been the guy to help me figure shit out. If he didn’t have an answer, he made sure he found someone who did. Coach always did things in a way that didn’t strip my confidence or self-respect, and I appreciated that more than I could ever tell him.
Not that I have told him that. But I think he knows.
He took pity on the kid in foster care from Indiana and offered him a football scholarship. He had hope in me when no one else did.
Now I don’t even have that. I’m not his charge anymore. The end of the season axed that.
Standing, I lift my chin. I fill my lungs with air and then shove it all out of my body just as quickly.
Focus on what you can control.
Right now, that’s dinner tonight.
The issue of showing up alone rears its head again, and I nibble on my bottom lip as I work through it.
I could show up alone or …
An idea percolates in the back of my mind as I take in the roof of Paddy’s through the window.
I could ask Larissa to go.
My lips twitch back and forth as I try to work the idea all the way through.
I don’t really know her. Hell, I don’t know her at all.
But asking her to accompany me isn’t any crazier than her asking me to be her fake date.
She didn’t want to be alone when what’s-his-fuck came by the bar.
I don’t really want to show up at Mr. Hall of Famer’s house by myself either.
If I go alone, all of their attention is on me. They’ll start asking questions—poking and prodding into shit I don’t want to discuss. Topics generally on the table for most people aren’t items I want to break down over bread.
I got none of that.
But wouldn’t it be just as awkward to sit next to a woman in that situation who I don’t know anything about? And who doesn’t know anything about me?
This isn’t some sorority chick I’m taking to a Kappa party or a football banquet—a girl who doesn’t care to know anything about me besides the size of my dick. I feel the conversations in the Landry house might be different from what I’m used to ... so I might need a different kind of date.
“Shit,” I say out loud, unsure what to do.
I pick up my phone.
Me: Need help.
Crew’s text comes immediately.
Crew: What kind of help?
Me: I’m not in jail or anything. Settle down, Hollywood.
Crew: When you ask for help, shit’s usually fucked up.
River: He’s not lying, Hollis.
Me: Well, you’re usually with me, River. So fuck off.
River: Eh, good point. Continue.
I exhale an aggravated breath and type out my next message.
Me: I was invited to Lincoln Landry’s for dinner.
Crew: That’s awesome.
River: Hell, yeah!
Me: Either of you fools want to come and go with me?
I tap my foot against the floor while I wait for their messages. It doesn’t take long.
River: What I wouldn’t give.
Crew: I’d be there if I wasn’t on the other side of the world.
River: You could just FaceTime me, and I’ll be your phone date.
Crew: What about the blonde?
River: Back off, Hollywood. I’m the date. I already accepted.
Crew:
Laughing, I get to my feet and pace across the room. The more time that passes after Lincoln’s invitation, the more the anxiousness turns into excitement.
Me: About the blonde …
Crew: Yeah?
Me: Would it be weird to ask her?
River: It’d be weird to ask her lots of things, but not this.
Crew: Do you have her number?
River: Well, I take that back. It depends on how you ask her. You could make it super weird. You’ve made easier things weirder. Come to think of it, this might be a risk.
Me: Thanks, River. Fucker.
Crew: Can we focus here?
I stop moving and watch my friends banter back and forth while an ocean apart. It makes me feel good. Normal. Grounded.
Me: So yes or no to the blonde, Crew? Yes, I have her number.
River: I’ll just sit here and pout that you’re excluding me from this conversation.
Crew: Ask her. What do you have to lose?
River: HIS DIGNITY.
Crew: River—so help me God.
Me: LOL
Crew: I say go for it, Hollis. Just shoot her a text. If she says no, she says no. No harm, no foul. But if things went well, why not just toss it out there? You need to check in today with her anyway. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.
River: Reality check—Hollis is not a gentleman.
Me: Ok. I’ll think about it. Thanks, guys.
Crew: You’re welcome.
River: You’re welcome.
Chuckling, I close the screen and take another look out the window.
I know exactly what I need—a run. Something to calm down my nerves and clear my head before I do something that’s probably idiotic.
I slip my room key into my pocket and head for the door.