“When did this happen?” I choked out, my eyes watering again, and a tickle in my sinuses trying to strong-arm me into a sneezing fit.
“A few months ago.”
“I’m surprised Patti didn’t say anything. She loves spreading news like this.”
“She doesn’t know. Unlike you, I’m good at keeping my business private. Plus, I’m saving this news for when I really need it.”
I spun on the couch until I faced her head-on. “Who is this guy? What does he do? He better not be taking advantage of you.”
She patted my hand and laughed. “He’s a physical therapist and no, he’s not taking advantage of me. I put him in his place right away.”
“Your physical therapist?”
“Not anymore. That would be unethical.”
“Says the woman dabbling in hacking. Okay, spill.”
“I told him I was worried that I couldn’t have an orgasm.”
“Whoa! Hold up,” I said, throwing my hands in the air between us. “I’ve changed my mind; I don’t want to hear.”
“Shut up,” she said, smacking away my hands. “You’re a big boy. There’s no way a guy as hot as you hasn’t taken a tour or a thousand around a vag, so buck up.”
“Hot maybe, but then there’s that glowing personality of mine that you reminded me of.” I closed my eyes and sighed. When I opened them, she was very much waiting for me to get on board with what was to come. “And here I thought my biggest worry was that I might get stuck delivering my own sister’s baby. This is worse. Way worse.”
“So, I asked him how that works out for people like me. You know what that shit said? He told me to try to ring my bell and let him know how it worked out. I bet that wasn’t in the employee handbook. Like I hadn’t tried that already,” she said with another roll of her eyes while I simultaneously died inside. “Yeesh. What is it with you guys anyway? I got so mad I rang his bells instead. Punched him right in the sac.”
“Jesus, Lana. You assaulted him?”
“Sure, but it worked out. He apologized for making it seem like he didn’t take me seriously, and I told him he could make it up to me by being a willing participant in my orgasm experiment. Good news,” she said with a lift of her cup like she was toasting her good fortune, “I can definitely have orgasms.”
“God, you just had to tell me that when you know damn well I can’t get good and drunk to mind scrub that right out of my head.”
“Maybe. I might enjoy watching you squirm a little. The point is, Coach. I’m good. He’s good. He’s very good. Most importantly, I wouldn’t change a thing.” She laid her hand over mine and squeezed. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
I turned my palm over and laced my fingers with hers and cleared my thick throat. “Glad to hear it.”
“But what about you, Coach? Are you right where you’re supposed to be?”
6
Marty, Sean, Rory, and Zara stumbled through my door, their arms laden with grocery bags.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” Marty said, blowing her long bangs out of her face. “I sent you a flyer on Insta for a banked track charity exhibition in Philly. I thought maybe we could take a road trip, check it out. Full-blown slumber party time in a suite complete with greasy Philly cheesesteaks.”
“I turned my ringer off,” I said as I reached out to snag a few bags and drop them in the kitchen. “I keep getting calls from this same number over and over in New York. They never leave a message so it’s total bullshit. So much for no call registries.”
“Every other call on my phone either pops up spam risk or it’s an automated bullshit message to tell me my auto warranty is about to expire. Not sure how, since I’ve never owned a car with a warranty,” Sean said with a snort.
Snow fell from their hair and jackets as they kicked off their boots in my modest entryway. Really it was a five by seven rug in front of my door. Just inches beyond it, my living room with barely enough space for the six of us to dance.
For that reason alone, when the whole team met up, we crashed Rory’s place—really her aunt’s place—just outside of town. Her aunt hated the idea of leaving it empty fifty weeks out of the year, so she asked Rory to stay there year-around rent-free, and Rory worked double shifts for the two weeks her aunt was in town so she didn’t murder her with a corkscrew.
Rory insisted orange wasn’t her color.
I pointed out Maine inmates wore blue for the most part and even then, the colors changed depending on security level.
Rory didn’t appreciate the distinction.
Tonight was the core six. The originals. The misfits of the team who’d been consistently at every scrimmage and in every bout, without fail, for four years now.
Basically, the ones who had no life outside of derby.
Or made derby their life.
Distinguishing between the two really depended if you’re a glass half empty or half full sort.
Most days, I’m glass half full.
Especially days like today, when my favorite people filled my tiny home. I never really told them, but I loved having them here. So much so, I steered them toward staying overnight every single time. It finally became routine and now they just automatically tossed a change of clothes in their bags when they came over, ready to crash on the couch, three in a bed, in the oversized bean bag chair in the corner, wherever they could find a soft spot to land.
A vagabond at heart, my mother drifted around the country with me in tow for the better part of my life. A young, single mother with no real history, no family didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in other parents so sleepovers were nonexistent in the tiny studio apartments and rented rooms my
