CHAPTER FOURTEEN
J eremy
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T he University of Arizona had rented space at a convention center three miles off-campus for the banquet, and Rhemann had secured rooms for his team at the hotel adjacent to it. Their driver pulled up outside the hotel long enough for everyone to disembark and collect their things from the storage compartment. Rhemann waited for a headcount from both White and Jimenez before sending him on his way, and the man promised to be back by eleven the next day to collect them. There were too many of them to follow Rhemann inside, so Jeremy and Xavier helped keep watch over the team while Rhemann and Lisinski checked them in.
Rhemann passed out keys and instructions to be back by half-after before letting them into the lobby. With four elevators it would be easy work to get the team up to their floor, but Jeremy looked from the room number printed on his key to Jean. He quietly told himself it d be a nice stretch after so many hours on the road, and he almost believed it. Flagging Laila down was easy work, and he motioned Jean over from where the other man was hanging back.
Can you take our bags on the elevator? Jeremy asked Laila as he held up his change of clothes. Jean and I are taking the stairs.
Laila looked from Jeremy to Jean and back again. It s eight flights.
We do more than that at practice, Jeremy pointed out.
He half-expected her to push the matter, but at last she held her hand out for their things and said, Better you than me.
Finding the stairwell took a bit of work, as there wasn t a sign for it in the lobby, but soon enough Jeremy and Jean were on their way up. Jeremy waited until they rounded the third-floor landing before looking back at Jean and asking, What s the cutoff before you start feeling claustrophobic? You seem fine in cars, and you ve mentioned it s airports you re not comfortable with, not airplanes. How small does it have to be before it bothers you?
I don t like being in boxes.
Either something got lost in translation, or Jean was being vague because he didn t want to talk about it. Jeremy let it slide in favor of counting steps in French. Jean said nothing about his pronunciation, but Jeremy knew he was listening. He could feel Jean s steady gaze on him, a comfortable weight against the back of his head. Since Jean had nothing to correct there, Jeremy next attempted a basic monologue on his way to the fifth landing.
My name is Jeremy Knox. I am from Los Angeles. I am studying English at USC. Today I am in Tucson for-uh. He faltered as he overestimated his vocabulary. Jean sighed but obediently supplied the missing word. Jeremy didn t have to ask what it meant; its intonation was different from its English equivalent, but it was still close enough to understand. -a banquet. He looked back at Jean for his approval, but Jean s annoyance was plain. Jeremy finished with a quick, Thanks!
You aren t going to law school, Jean said in English.
Jeremy stared at him, thrown, then assumed Jean made the mental jump from his major to his ill-advised plans for grad school. He smiled in the face of Jean s disapproval and said, There s no harm in taking the exam.
Jean was as swayed by the argument this time as he was the last, and he stubbornly insisted, It is your fifth year. They will put a camera in your face and ask you what your hopes are for graduation. If word gets out you are considering other careers, it will jeopardize your chances and shrink your prospective pool. What recruiter will fight for a man who is already looking elsewhere?
How easily Jean laid bare that gnawing fear in Jeremy s bones. Jeremy looked away, but not quickly enough. Something showed on his face, judging by the edge in Jean s insistent, Jeremy .
Jeremy stopped on the seventh landing to face him. Jean wasn t expecting it, and he nearly ran Jeremy over when he lengthened his stride to catch up. Jeremy dug his feet in, refusing to budge, and Jean caught his chin so he could get a good look at Jeremy s face.
Jeremy offered him a wry smile. Keeping an easy tone was second nature, but it did nothing to take the frustration out of Jean s stare. It s important to my parents that I at least consider it, so I will. It ll be fine, Jean, I promise. The test itself isn t a commitment. Even if Harvard accepts me, I have until spring to make a final decision.
Invoking his parents was the right move; Jean gave ground to higher authority too readily to encourage rebellion in his captain. After a few tense moments Jean let go of him, and Jeremy was able to turn away unchallenged. He took the last flight up and let them out onto the eighth floor. A glance from their room key to the signs on the walls had him turning right down the hallway.
The Trojans were scattered across two or three floors, but Rhemann had attempted to keep friend groups as close together as possible when handing out keys. Cat and Laila should be on his hall somewhere, but Jeremy had forgotten to ask their room number. He texted his own to Laila instead, and he d just toed out of his sneakers when she rapped on the door. Jean was closer, so he let her in. She was half-changed out already, dark tights under a knee-length skirt and only a pale camisole on top. Jeremy didn t miss the way Jean pointedly stared at the ceiling as she carried their clothes over to the nearer bed.
Iron s on the shelf in the closet if you need it, she said. We ll see you downstairs.
Thanks, Jeremy said, and Laila left. Jeremy went to investigate the state of his clothes while Jean contemplated his life s choices near the door. Jeremy s thoughts wandered as he dressed: Laila, to his sister, to Renee s picture that had disappeared from Jean s desk shortly after they teased Jean about her. None of the three looked anything alike, leaving Jean s taste in women an utter mystery. Jeremy considered asking, but instead he said, Mom thinks I should marry Laila.
It was enough to get Jean s undivided attention, at least until Jeremy peeled his tank top off. Jean immediately found something else to stare at, like he always did when Jeremy was in varying stages of undress. It was horrifically inappropriate fighting for Jean s attention like this, Jeremy knew; shame was a prickling heat eating away at his satisfaction. He was quick to tug his shirt on, a simple white button-up with a snazzy tie to brighten it, but Jean didn t move until Jeremy was buttoning his slacks.
Ridiculous, was all Jean had to say as he unzipped the bag with his clothes.
Jeremy sprawled on his bed to wait for Jean, but in the silence his thoughts threatened to wander. He slung an arm across his eyes and said, I wonder if they ve got the Foxes game on demand. Maybe we can watch it when we get back to the room tonight.
He d seen the score last night but not the match; the three-hour time difference and a long afternoon practice saw to that. It was easier to keep up with on game nights, since afternoon practice was scratched in favor of short, low-level warm-ups. Jeremy could put it on as background noise in the locker room and at least catch the first bit. The Foxes had won their first match, but only by a single point. Jeremy was curious to know if that close call was due to the skill of their opponents or their combative freshmen fracturing the lineup.
It was inevitable his thoughts would turn from the Foxes to their archrivals, and Jeremy asked, Are you worried about the Ravens?
No.
The south kicked off the season last night, but the Ravens hadn t played. Coach Rossi claimed most of his lineup was out sick with a stomach bug, and Edgar Allan provided testimony from a half-dozen professors to support his story. A makeup match was scheduled for Thanksgiving week. Another string of bad luck for the beleaguered team, Jeremy had said to Kevin, but Kevin had no patience for the Ravens lies.
Not a single one is ill, was Kevin s response. They are simply failing to adapt, and Rossi is desperately trying to buy time.
Kevin would know better than he did, and Jeremy had to admit it was suspicious. The southern district had their fall banquet next weekend. By missing last night s game, the Ravens had set themselves up for a spectacular comeback: their first game of the season would now be their rematch against Palmetto State on Friday, September 14 th .
Weight on the bed had him drawing his arm back. Jean was leaning over him, one hand braced on the mattress beside Jeremy s head. His charcoal dress shirt was only half-buttoned, and Jeremy instinctively followed the line of his throat down to his exposed collarbone. From anyone else this would be an invitation, but this was Jean. Too many others had put their hands on him and shattered his trust. Jeremy couldn t make the first move here no matter how desperately he wanted to tug a few more buttons loose.
Don t, he warned himself, even as he studied the pale scars crisscrossing on Jean s skin.
If Jean noticed his distraction, he gave no sign. His expression was serious as he said, Tell me the phrase.
Jeremy would be lucky to know his own name when Jean was standing between his legs like this. He put his arm across his face again so Jean could only see his smile and guessed, I take it Cody told you about my catastrophic introduction to USC? I thought they might when I walked out on you two yesterday. It s fine, he hurried to add. Saves me the embarrassment, if nothing else.
It is an incomplete story, Jean said. Cody is trying to protect you.
How far they d come from such an uncomfortable beginning. Jeremy let his fondness bleed into his, They re a good bean.
I said I would ask you for the rest, but Cody insinuated you d be dishonest. Jean waited a beat to make sure that hit before leveling a quiet accusation at him: You would, wouldn t you?
Jeremy ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth, chasing the memory of alcohol and sweat. Fast on its heels was a bitter taste he could never forget. He flexed his hands, working away a tremor that might only be in his head, and bit the inside of his cheek until the only voice in his head was Spader s. He had her home number saved on his phone out of necessity. He d likely have to call her in the morning for a quick check-in, but maybe he d end up calling her tonight.
At last Jeremy remembered to say, No. Not to you. He moved his arm so he could see Jean s face. The Frenchman looked unconvinced and unimpressed. Jeremy held his stare and willed Jean to believe him. I told you all summer I want you to trust me and feel safe with me, didn t I? Lying to you would undo everything we ve worked so hard to build. I d rather lose face than lose your confidence.
Predictable to a fault: such an earnest appeal had Jean retreating out of his space. Jeremy was finally able to sit up, and he reached out to snag Jean s wrist. I mean it. If you want to ask, just ask. I will never lie to you.
Jean stared him down in silence before finally saying, White Ridge has a vendetta against you.
For a few years now, Jeremy said. I destroyed their captain s career and reputation. It s a hard thing to forgive.
By the look on his face, Jean had no idea what to do with that information. Jeremy waited patiently for the obvious follow-up, but Jean only pulled free of him and said, No. The details cannot matter tonight. You are my captain and my partner; that is all I need to know. I will stand with you against them.
You and me against the world, Jeremy mused, delighted despite himself. But it s not just me on trial tonight, so take what time you need to steel yourself. They ve likely heard all the rumors and watched your interview backwards and forwards; they ll have a lot of opinions and a lot to say. I m obligated to remind you this is a public event and that you ll have to play nice, but if you watch my back, I ll watch yours.
Tiresome charade, Jean muttered.
He moved away to finish buttoning his shirt, and Jeremy went in search of his dress shoes. Jean was still fiddling helplessly with his tie when Jeremy was completely ready, so Jeremy went to him and put his hands out in offering.
Let me, he said, and Jean relinquished it to him. Jeremy wound it around Jean s neck and hesitated, trying to imagine the movements on someone else and distracted by the weight of Jean s unblinking stare. Jeremy went through the motions slowly as he waited for muscle memory to kick in. It took two attempts before he figured it out, and he smiled triumph as he smoothed Jean s tie flat.
Easier on- he started to say, but Jean s fingers on his neck killed his train of thought.
Horrid creations, Jean said as he fixed Jeremy s collar. No better than a noose.
Jeremy meant to laugh or agree. What he said was, You look good. When Jean went still as stone, Jeremy hurried to correct himself with, It looks good on you, I mean. But I get it-not the most comfortable thing to wear. He was saved when his phone went off with Laila s alert, and he retreated to a safe distance to check her message. Looks like most everyone else is downstairs already. Shall we go?
Jeremy passed Jean one of the room keys on their way out of the room. He kept an easy pace down the stairwell, as it was hot as the devil s buttcrack in Tucson and he didn t want to sweat through his dress shirt before dinner even started. They caught up with the Trojans out front and wriggled through the crowd until they found the floozies. Cody had put both Cat and Laila between themselves and Pat and Ananya, and Jeremy didn t think it was the heat that put that flush in Cody s cheeks. Ananya s expression was calm as she stared into the distance, but she had her arms crossed so tight she d leave wrinkles in her dress.
Easy, Jeremy said, tweaking her sleeve.
I can t make it any easier, Ananya said in a low voice.
It was and wasn t true, but it wasn t Jeremy s fight.
Finally all twenty-nine Trojans and their accompanying six dates were accounted for, and Rhemann led them over to the convention center.
Check-in was smooth, and each player was given a lanyard in USC s colors. The laminated cards hanging off the hooks featured prominent jersey numbers, with surnames and positions printed below them. Their room wasn t much further along, two turns and a short hall, and then a set of fire doors that were currently propped open.
One of Arizona s assistant coaches was sitting just inside the door. She stood to shake hands with USC s four-man staff before lifting a microphone to her mouth. Judging by the crowd and the noise, Jeremy guessed at least five teams were already settled, but the coach had set her mic to carry over the chaos: USC Trojans now in attendance. Coach Rhemann, Coach Lisinski, Coach White, Coach Jimenez. Captain Jeremy Knox, vice-captain Xavier Morgan. She flicked her mic off and leaned closer to Rhemann as she pointed. Jeremy was close enough to hear her say, You ll be at tables thirteen and fourteen in the gold quadrant.
Thank you, Coach, Rhemann said, and set off in that direction with his team a long line behind him.
Jeremy s heart was a hummingbird trapped in his throat. He loved the chaos and noise and crowds of game nights; having the western teams all under one roof was an even greater gift. There was so much talent in this room Jeremy felt electric, but beneath that current was the sizzling snap of too many memories. Jeremy let his gaze wander: looking for familiar faces, looking for faces that would ve moved on years ago. How desperately and fervently he d dreamed of events like these, and how swiftly he d destroyed it. There was comfort in knowing he was not that person anymore, but it was a hollow accomplishment.
As one of the largest teams in the west, USC could have easily dominated an entire table. Instead they were put back-to-back at neighboring tables so they could converse with other teams. One table was split with Arizona s Wildcats, and the other shared with Boise s Broncos. Both teams got on well with USC outside of matches, so Jeremy was pleased with the arrangement. He caught Xavier s eye and tipped his head toward the Wildcats. Xavier motioned from himself to Boise s table in response. Each opponent would get a captain s attention to avoid the appearance of favoritism, and the floozies would divvy themselves up appropriately.
Spotting Arizona s captain was easy work; Jeremy could find his former teammate in any crowded room. Jeremy feigned not to see the question in Alejandro Torres s stare as he held out his hand. Torres didn t hesitate to give his hand a firm shake, but the faint smile he managed didn t reach his eyes.
Jeremy Knox, I think, he said as Jeremy sat opposite him. Last I checked you were a brunette. Senioritis giving you a midlife crisis?
Something like that, Jeremy said with a laugh. Congrats on making captain. I should have texted when I saw the roster update.
Implying you didn t delete my number years ago? Torres asked, and Jeremy could only shrug. The Wildcat didn t care enough to pursue it but turned a considering look on Jean. The infamous Jean Moreau, then. Heard a lot about you.
I don t know you, Jean said.
This is Alejandro Torres, Jeremy said. He and I went to high school together. He s one of the cleverest dealers I know, and he s got a great team here. Playing in Arizona is always a treat: their fans are phenomenal, and the facilities are gorgeous. To Torres he added, Jean s still learning the western teams. It might take him a bit to put names to faces.
Torres understood what Jeremy didn t say. I suppose he wouldn t know us. We ve always been irrelevant to the Ravens.
You had a really strong season last year, Jeremy said. I m excited to see how you ve built off of that and kept the momentum going.
Whatever Torres had to say on the matter was drowned out by the next announcement: White Ridge Bobcats now in attendance. Coach Jones, Coach Caper, Coach Hatcher. Captain Thomas Ennis, vice-captains Peggy Walter and Adam West.
Jeremy s stare went unbidden to the newest arrivals. The largest team in the west, there were thirty-three Bobcats on this year s roster. With a dozen-odd dates in the mix, the line seemed to go on forever. Jeremy wasn t surprised to see them seated a safe distance from USC, as Arizona saw no benefit to stoking antagonism this early in the season. The Bobcats had placed second in the district almost as many years as USC placed first, and it was always a toss-up as to who d win their fall showdown.
Torres didn t seem to notice his distraction. He still had his eyes on Jean as he asked, How are you liking the Trojans? Bit different from the Ravens, I assume.
Yes, Jean said, and didn t elaborate.
The seat across from Jean was already taken, but another Wildcat approached to steal it. When her teammate didn t immediately get up, she rapped him on the shoulder with an impatient, Move. He heaved a put-upon sigh as he relinquished the spot to her, and she almost hip-checked him in her hurry to sit down. It took Jeremy a moment to recognize her without her gear on, but the number hanging from her neck confirmed her as one of the Wildcats goalkeepers.
The Canadian , he remembered, a half-second before she launched rapid-fire French across the table at Jean. Jean stared at her in dead silence for several moments before answering, and it was her turn to size him up with a fierce frown. Jeremy looked from one to the other, idly wondering how he could police Jean s rudeness if he couldn t understand what he was saying. Both players looked equally annoyed, but not enough to call it off.
You two good? Jeremy asked.
Probably talking mad shit about us, Torres said, nudging his goalkeeper.
His is hands down the worst accent I ve ever heard, she said.
Jean s scandalized, Mine ? startled a laugh out of her, and they went back to harassing one another. Torres offered Jeremy a helpless shrug, and Jeremy sat back to listen. He d assumed Jean was naturally introverted, not hesitant to speak, but the easy way he held his own against this stranger was eye-opening.
Jeremy mulled it over, trying to make sense of it. Jean had always been a touch defensive about his English proficiency, even as he was willing to hide behind the excuse of a language barrier when he didn t want to speak to someone. Five years of immersion in the US should have given him a bit more confidence, except even as Jeremy thought it, he felt the missing pieces fall into place. He d told Jeremy at Hannah Bailey s office that he d learned reading and writing via his coursework-the same day he d said, my year of English lessons.
I was not allowed to speak French at the Nest, he d said. He d been allowed a single year to study English before being shoved into the deep end at Evermore. Jeremy wondered how patient the Ravens had been with the bewildered foreigner dropped in their midst. Not very, he assumed, and it made him ache. On its heels was renewed determination to master French, and he checked his phone to see if William had secured him a tutor yet. The last message he d received was a simple promise that he would look.
A text came in from Ivan Faser as Jeremy was about to put his phone away: Where you staying tonight? Jeremy glanced down the length of the table to where the backliner was sitting. The junior offered him a rakish, hungry smile when their eyes met, and Jeremy teetered between need and revulsion. Faser was very good and very enthusiastic, but Jeremy didn t know if he could drag someone to bed here without tearing open too many memories.
Ask me later, he sent back. I might have other plans.
Lame, was the response, followed by a string of frowning faces.
Jeremy shrugged an apology at him, and Faser turned his attention to the Trojans across from him. The arrival of two more teams back-to-back brought an end to Jean s conversation; the goalkeeper s face lit up as the second one was announced and she excused herself from her seat to hurry away. Jeremy didn t ask, but Torres saw his nonplussed look and said, Her boyfriend plays for Nevada.
Jeremy nodded easy acceptance. How many are left to arrive?
Torres tipped his head back to think. With Nevada and San Francisco, we should be at ten teams, so... three to go? Couldn t tell you who, though, I wasn t paying enough attention. Make that two, he added as he was interrupted by another announcement. One of the Wildcats players came over to speak into his ear, pointing across the room, and Torres caught Jeremy s eye before tipping his head. Jeremy nodded understanding, and the two Wildcats left together.
Jeremy gently knocked his knee into Jean s and gestured to where a pair of men were standing in the middle of the room. Representatives from the ERC, he said. Schumaker s been around forever, but I don t remember the younger one. Willis? Williamson? Uhhh... Laila?
Whitney, she said without hesitation.
I could live a hundred lives and never be as smart as you, Jeremy said.
Maybe if you would learn to read, she returned.
Jeremy put a hand over his heart. I read for class. That counts for something.
Company, Jean said, a half-second before something fell past Jeremy s face. Jeremy hadn t even heard someone move up behind him with all the rest of the noise, but he stared down at the candy scattered on his placemat with some consternation. He started to turn in his seat to see who d brought him such an odd gift when Torres s chair was pulled out across from him.
Jeremy Wilshire, Rusty Connors said as he sat, and Jeremy forgot all about the man at his back. We were taking bets on whether you d show this year. JJ here said you wouldn t dare, but I had faith. Last year, and all. No way you could resist.
Jeremy smiled at the Bobcats goalkeeper. It s still Knox, actually.
Connors had a fistful of the same candy JJ Lander had given Jeremy, colorful paper sticks packed to the brim with powdery sugar. He tore the end from one, knocked it back, and showed Jeremy the new blue stain on his tongue. Well, you know us, always glad to have you around. We re even going to have a little get-together afterward for old time s sake. You should come.
He tore the top off another stick, but instead of eating it he dumped it in a slow line across the tablemat in front of him. Beneath the table Laila dug bruises into Jeremy s thigh. Jeremy dragged his attention back to Connors face and kept it there even as the man made another tidy row. The rest of the sticks he chucked across the table toward Jeremy, adding to his small pile. He licked a fingertip, tapped it to one line, and tested it on the tip of his tongue as he held Jeremy s stare.
Appreciate the offer, Jeremy said, but I ll have to pass this time.
Real shame, Connors said. He nudged the Wildcat next to him and said, This kid used to be quite the partier, you know?
Cool, the backliner said, with no enthusiasm or interest, and motioned to Jeremy. If you re not going to eat those, can I have them? My sister s an absolute fiend for them. Thanks, he added when Jeremy started collecting the scattered sticks. She ll be singing your praises when she s bouncing off the walls later.
Did you bring her with you? Connors asked.
What? Here? Nah, man, she s eight.
What about you? Connors asked Jeremy, and Jeremy froze with his hand halfway to the Wildcat player. I mean, you ve still got a couple siblings left, don t you?
That s more than enough, Laila warned him. Jeremy heard the words but didn t hold onto them; he was stuck somewhere between his heartbeats. He found Laila s hand under the table and she immediately let go of his leg to lace her fingers through his. We didn t come here to fight with you. Keep it civil or keep it moving.
Who s fighting? Connors asked, and turned an expectant look on Jeremy. I m just making conversation.
Jeremy finally managed to let go of the candy and withdraw. Sure, he said, with an evenness he wasn t feeling, but I m not interested in talking about my family with you. Come up with a different topic or go back to your own table.
Connors ignored that to say, There s what, at least two, right?
He looked past Jeremy at his teammate for confirmation. Jeremy assumed Lander nodded, because Connors gave a triumphant gesture as he returned his full attention to Jeremy. He leaned forward: daring Jeremy to take a swing, knowing Jeremy wouldn t. You could ve brought at least one. Word is you re staying at the Knight s Rest, same as us. Didn t you know? Guests don t have rooftop access there.
It was enough to put a hole in his chest, but Jeremy only managed a hollow, What, before Jean s fist came down between them hard enough to rattle every set of silverware on the long table. Conversations faltered around the room; within moments the only sound was the squeak of chairs as curious athletes turned to watch this confrontation. Jeremy was keenly aware of the ERC s judging stares, but he couldn t look away from Connors long enough to grimace an apology at them.
Connors studied the hand that had come dangerously close to taking his nose off before turning a shrewd look on Jean. You missed.
Only once, Jean warned him.
Jean, Jeremy said, and hoped he heard the Don t in Jeremy s clipped tone.
He didn t have to understand what Jean said to know it was rude. Jean leaned into his space but kept his cold stare on Connors as he asked in English, This is White Ridge. Yes?
Yes, Jeremy said. Connors is their starting goalkeeper.
And you re Jean Moreau, Connors said, sizing Jean up. I ve heard so much about you. My condolences, of course, that you ended up with the Trojans. Whose idea was it to put a rhino in a tea shop? Jean looked at Jeremy, blank-faced, and Jeremy drew horns in front of his face with a finger. Connors understood the issue immediately and said, A brute like you needs a team that will encourage your talents. You should have come north.
To Pennsylvania? Jean asked.
To Spokane, Connors stressed. The noise Jean made put a sharp edge in Connors smile, and the goalkeeper could fill in the blanks easily enough: You don t think we re good enough for you, but USC doesn t even appreciate you properly. Slotting you into the second line? How embarrassing.
Better to be second line here than traded to a dead end there, Jean said. It took the smile off Connors face, but Jean wasn t done. He gave a dismissive flick of his fingers and said, I have heard enough about you to know you are no different from Penn State or Edgar Allan. You rely on size and aggression to win your games. It is easy and satisfying, and I have seen it all before. If I am to improve, I must try something new. This is the only team that matters.
That s bullshit, Connors said.
I am perfect Court. I cannot be wrong about Exy.
No one here actually believes this, right? Connors looked at the Trojans and Wildcats that were watching this exchange with tense interest. Connors waved expansively at the two men sitting across from him and insisted, We all know the real reason you re at USC. Don t we, Wilshire?
Jeremy knew better than to take the bait, but he still said, Enlighten us, Connors.
Luckily for all of them, Torres returned then. Ass out of my chair.
Connors shrugged him off. I ll go in a second.
One, Torres said, and gave his chair a hard shake. He kept his stare on Connors head but pointed across the table at Lander. Rethink whatever you re about to say. I will beat your ass six ways from Sunday in front of God and the ERC if you two don t get away from my team. We assigned you across the room for a reason.
Connors made sure to slam the chair into Torres as he stood up. More than one Wildcat got up, ready to throw hands if needed, but Connors kept his stare on Jeremy s upturned face and only said, Good seeing you again. I ll tell Dex you said hello.
Give me his new number and I ll tell him myself, Jeremy suggested, and Laila nearly crushed his hand in warning. Jeremy ignored it, more interested in the venom bleeding into Connors expression. Jeremy finally found his smile again and affected an easy tone to say, We ll see you on the court next week. I m sure it ll be fun.
Torres barely waited for Connors to move before taking his chair again, and he frowned down at his placemat. The hell is this? he demanded, pointing to the lines of sugar Connors left behind. Who s doing blow at my table, or do I even need to ask?
His backliner laughed and showed off his collection of sticks. It s candy, cap. Look!
Jeremy had practiced Jean s phrase to perfection, but it was all a jumbled mess now. The best he managed was a casual, Bum one? to Torres as he yanked free of Laila and got up from his seat. He half-expected his former teammate to refuse, but after a beat Torres passed his pack of cigarettes over. It was heavy enough Jeremy knew the lighter was inside, so he smiled his thanks and turned away.
Jean snagged his wrist. Do not.
Jeremy tested his bruising grip. Walk with me.
The look on Jean s face said he didn t want to humor this tantrum, but at last Jean let go. Jeremy set off without waiting for him, and the weight of too many stares followed him to the door.