Page 110 of Puck the Coach's Son
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to sayfuck, Phoenix, thanks for the heads-up, I'll cool it.” He picks up his beer and doesn't drink it. Just holds it. “You got Paul. I was there when you decided to do this. I wasthere in the locker room when you said you'd ruin the kid for him. I laughed. I thought it was you being a dick. I thought it'd last a weekend. You made Paul lose his mind on the bench for a month. You won. You got your revenge. It's done. Walk away from the kid.”
I stare at the table. The wood's got initials carved into it from twenty different drunk nights. Someone named DK loves someone named SM. 2019. I trace the 9 with my thumbnail.
“Creed.”
My thumbnail stops on the curve of the digit.
“I can't.”
Phoenix goes still. He sets the beer down. Careful, like a man defusing a thing.
“Say that again.”
I make myself look at him.
“I can't walk away from him.”
The muscle under his ear stops going. He's looking at me like I've grown a second head. Maybe I have. I don't recognize the guy saying this sentence either.
His mouth opens. Closes.
“You're serious?”
“Yeah.”
He rubs a hand over his mouth. Drops it.
“About the coach's son?”
“Yeah.”
He looks at me a long time.
“The virgin we were chirping in September?”
I put my hand flat on the table to stop it from doing anything stupid. The wood is cold under my palm.
“Don't call him that.”
Phoenix looks at my hand. Looks at my face. He takes a long, slow breath, like he's trying to count something down.
“Oh, Creed.”
I can hear my own pulse in my ears.
“Don't.”
“Oh, buddy.”
I close my eyes. Open them.
“I'm not your buddy right now, Reyes, I am telling you what it is.”
“I know what it is.” He rubs his face with both hands. Leaves them there. Talks through them. “I've known what it is for two weeks. I was hoping I was wrong.”
I drink. The beer is warming. I drink anyway because otherwise my hands will do something.
