Juked (12 page)

“Don’t forget your own words,” she says, causing me to look at her. “This girl you’re seeing, the one with the baby, make sure you’re both on the same page before she gets too involved. You can be more charming than you realize, and she has enough to worry about without you breaking her heart.”

I pull her in for another hug. She doesn’t realize, but she has it sort of backward. I don’t have any idea what’s going on with Quincy. I’m attracted to her, sure, but I
like
her, too, which is something I haven’t felt in years. It has me totally stumped, so I’m taking it one day at a time.

T
he first thing I notice is all the red. It’s everywhere. Red jerseys, red face paint, red stadium.

The stadium where the Mutiny play is impressive. Just outside downtown, it’s almost shaped like the bottom half of a soccer ball.

“I can’t believe this is your first soccer game,” Geni says as we walk with the crowd toward the front gates. “They are so fun. Like nothing you have ever experienced before.” Like the majority of people around us, Geni is showing her team spirit dressed in a tight fitting Mutiny jersey and matching baseball cap, long red hair pulled through the back in a low ponytail.

“How come I didn’t know you were such a huge soccer fan?” I ask, looking down at my plain red T-shirt. I’m lucky I found something in the team colors in my closet.

“Because I’m not a super fan. I love coming to games, and I definitely keep up with all the single and available players,” she says with a wink, “but I don’t watch on TV or pay close attention to their schedule or anything. You know I hate shelling out money for tickets.” She’s right. She’s a total cheapskate. “I’m always happy to come when I get free tickets, especially primo ones like these.”

We get in line and pull out our tickets. I’ve been to enough professional sports games to know not to bring a purse of any kind. Drivers license, debit card, my phone, and a ticket. Those are the only things I need to keep track of in a stadium full of people. That also gets us in the “no bag line” at security, which moves a whole lot faster than the alternative.

“Here are your noisemakers,” the attendant says after she scans our tickets, handing us what looks like deflated balloons. I gaze at her with a confused expression, so she continues. “Just blow them up and tie it up at the bottom. They get really loud when you bang them together.”

I thank her, and we look for the signs pointing to our seats. From what Geni has said, “One hundred level, center field” is an amazing place to sit during the game. I’ll have to take her word for it.

“Ooh! I want a giant churro!” Geni says and practically bounces into the vender line. “You want one?”

“Sure, as long as they have margaritas, too.”

She snorts. “It’s a soccer game. Of course there are margaritas.”

As we wait, I keep people-watching. I’ve never seen so many flags and foam fingers and noisemakers in my life. The sound is almost deafening. I lean over. “Is it always this loud?” I yell in her ear.

She beams at me before yelling back, “This isn’t even noisy yet. Just wait.”

We finally make it to the front of the line to get our churros and margaritas. I’d be excited about the food, but the drink… this isn’t just a margarita. It’s a
yard-long
margarita. Totally worth the fifteen bucks it cost me for a three-foot-long plastic cup I’ll never use again.

As we walk through the tunnel and into the stands, I understand what Geni meant by the noise level going up. If I thought it was practically deafening before, I was wrong. To the left, people are banging on drums, keeping beat with each other. Others are playing trumpets, and noisemakers are being clapped to the beat as well.

Giant flags are waved back and forth with no one complaining about sitting behind them. This is like no sporting event I’ve ever seen. The energy is exhilarating.

It takes us a minute to find our seats because they’re so close to the field. Second row, center field, to be exact. Geni is ecstatic.

“Ohmygod, I can’t believe these seats! We’ll be able to see everything from here!” She takes a big bite of her snack and licks the sugar off her lips. “Damn. If these are the comp tickets the team gets, I’m gonna need you to introduce me to some of Daniel’s friends.”

“Daniel?” the girl in front of us turns around and asks. “Daniel Zavaro?” She’d be pretty if she wasn’t giving us such a sneer. Long, glossy dark hair, big blue eyes ringed with black, pouty pink lips, and a killer rack. She looks like a super model. A bitchy one, but a supermodel nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Geni says with a smile. She either doesn’t notice the death glares from this chick, or she’s trying to kill her with kindness. My money is on the latter. “He’s dating my friend Quincy here.”

“Dating?” the girl asks, looking me up and down like she’s sizing me up. The condescending tone isn’t lost on me. “Since when does Daniel Zavaro ‘date.’ He fucks and runs, just so you know.”

I raise my eyebrows at Geni, who is visibly trying to retract her claws. I would be offended by this girl’s very obvious attitude, but I’m too interested to see what Geni is about to do. She is normally pretty chill and lets things roll off her back, but the one thing she can’t stand is people trying to intimidate her friends.

“Hmm. Interesting. Hey, Quincy,” she says. “How many dates have you been on with Daniel?”

“Just the one,” I answer honestly, although I do toy with lying for a second.

“Huh. And did he fuck you and run?”

“Nope,” I answer. “No fucking and no running.”

“And yet,” she says looking like she’s deep in thought, even though we all know she’s over exaggerating to make a point, “he asked you to come to the game and provided you with these primo tickets and a parking pass and passes to get down to the tunnel after the game. But”—she looks at me again with wide eyes—“no fucking?”

“No fucking,” I say with a snigger.

Geni shrugs and smiles at the girl, who I realize is sitting with a friend who resembles her quite a lot. Same hair, same pouty lips, same rack. I would guess these girls are groupies, not girlfriends. That would account for their immediate dislike of someone dating one of the players. “Looks like Daniel may be off the market now, since there’s been no fucking or running. Sorry about that.” The girl narrows her eyes but Geni doesn’t notice. “I’m Geni, by the way. You already know Quincy. And you are…?”

“Tiffany.”

“Oh good. That’ll be easy to remember. Tiffanys are a dime a dozen, just like groupies.” Tiffany’s friend chokes on her beer and starts coughing. Geni ignores her and keeps going. “I’d shake your hand, but mine are full,” she says as she gestures to the snacks. “And I don’t know where yours has been.”

Tiffany glares. I can tell she wants to say something but can’t think as fast as Geni.

“You can turn around now,” Geni says. Tiffany whips her head back around and pretends to ignore us and Geni just takes another bite out of her churro.

I look around the stadium, taking it all in. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m glad the roof is open. Lots of sunshine and a perfect breeze. The red seats are quickly filling up as more fans make their way in.

“It won’t be long now,” Geni says as an announcer comes over the loudspeaker. I can barely make out what’s being said, but with names, pictures, and stats of all the players popping up on the lone JumboTron screen, I’m guessing he’s announcing all the players.

Sure enough, I can barely make it out when the announcer yells, “And your captain, Daniel Zavarooooooooooooo!”

But the crowd sure hears it, and they go wild as Daniel runs through a tunnel and onto the field, fists raised in the air and obviously excited for the game to start. The entire stadium is on their feet, clapping, cheering, and banging

noisemakers together.

Geni was right. I’ve seen excitement at sporting events before, but never like this.

For the next ninety-plus minutes, the field is a flurry of men running back and forth. I have a hard time following the action because it just looks like a bunch of guys chasing a ball. I know there’s more to it, but without knowing the rules, my brain just can’t wrap around what’s happening.

Interestingly enough, Tiffany the groupie seems to be following it all just fine. She keeps yelling things like “Off sides, ref! They’re off sides!” and “Bend it, Anderson!” She’s really into the game. I’m not sure if it surprises me that she knows so much or that she really seems to be a fan, not just a groupie. I guess someone can be both.

“Are these guys really getting hurt?” I yell in Geni’s ear after yet another player starts rolling around on the ground in distress. “They seem to be a bunch of big babies to me.”

She yells back, “They
are
a bunch of babies. That’s part of the fun. It’s almost like a contest to see who can convince the ref first that they are injured.”

I crinkle my eyes. “Seems like unnecessary drama to me.”

“Not if you can get a penalty kick out of it,” she explains.

We don’t have time for much conversation. There’s too much action and too much noise. Even though I don’t know exactly what’s going on, I enjoy absorbing the energy of the crowd and watching the game.

I know enough, however, to realize our team is losing toward the end of the second half. By this time everyone is on their feet, cheering. Tiffany looks nervous, hands clasped together and covering her mouth. Geni has her arms crossed and is leaning forward. The crowd seems to sway with the motion of the ball.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Geni chants under her breath as players make their way to the opposite team’s goal posts. “Take the equalizer shot. Take the equalizer shot.”

Daniel comes from out of nowhere, or so it seems to me, and crosses the field until he reaches the ball. He kicks it hard, and it sails through the air, arcs at the last second, and goes right over the goalie’s head into the goal.

The crowd erupts into cheers, and I swear every musical instrument in the stadium plays at top volume. It’s insane and invigorating.

Less than a minute later, it happens again. The clock counts down a few seconds later with the Mutiny on the winning side after all. The crowd goes wild, and so does the team. Jerseys are ripped over heads, and the players throw them into the crowd. Daniel is hoisted into the air by several teammates as they celebrate the win.

I’m practically frozen in place with a smile on my face, watching the antics on the field. I understand it now. I understand why he likes his job so much. It’s a total rush.

“That was awesome!” Geni squeals as we stand there observing. “Can you believe he scored the equalizer and go-ahead shots?”

I giggle. “I have no idea what you just said.”

She throws her arm over my shoulders and squeezes. “He won the game, Quincy! Your man won the game!”

I pull my phone from my pocket, opening my text messages.

That was amazing. You are amazing to watch out there. Thank you for such an enjoyable day.

It isn’t until we get home, and I’m settled that I get a response from Daniel.

I’m so glad you had fun. And just so you know, I was watching you, too.

I bite back a smile. I’ve never dated a professional athlete before, but if this kind of thing happens often, this is gonna be fun.