Go Away, Darling - Alexis Anne Page 0,6

came to my playoff games. He helped me through the college recruiting process and landing my agent, Roman St. James. In some ways he was like a second father to me.

“I ran into Olivia Saldana today.”

Trent chuckled. “Did you now? How is she?”

“Good. We didn’t recognize each other at first.” I still blamed the sun protection. Hats and sunglasses hid eyes. Eyes were the window to the soul.

“You’re a little bit taller than you used to be, that’s for sure.”

Everyone seemed to like commenting on my height change, as if five-year-olds weren’t inherently short. “I keep meaning to ask about everyone.”

Trent stretched his long legs. “Well, your old teammates Lucas and Chaz are the coaches over at the high school on the mainland. Andy is an assistant coach with that Miami team.”

“I see him sometimes.” Andy wasn’t a bad guy, just worked for the wrong team, was all.

“And of course Everett and Isaac Anson.”

I froze for a moment because I’d honestly forgotten about them. Isaac was seven years older than me, and Everett three. “Isaac played for the Mantas, didn’t he?”

“For one season. He’s a ranger at the sanctuary now. Everett runs the family marina.”

Once again I felt incredibly lucky to have my career. “Isaac was amazing. Everyone was surprised when he retired.” That’s right. Retired. After starting for St. Pete for one season. He wasn’t hurt and they begged him to stay. It was one of those stories you pay attention to because it was so different.

Trent shot me a tight smile. “Isaac’s a good guy.”

There was a story there, I was sure of it. “What about the Anderson sisters?” I had a feeling my brother Ben still had a crush on London Anderson. I was willing to bet my playoff bonus that was one of the reasons he wanted to come visit. The other reason, obviously, being me.

Ben was a pretty typical older brother. Responsible, level headed, a little quieter than me and Scott. Our parents didn’t require us to follow them into the music industry but they did encourage show business. I think it had more to do with living life big and loud and less about the fame. Ben wasn’t interested in any of that. He just wanted to build furniture and fix up old houses. It was kind of an accident that he wound up on television and a stroke of good luck that his show became so damn popular.

But since Ben wasn’t particularly a fan of fame, he’d become even more responsible and quiet, retreating to his mountain cabin every chance he got. How he was going to meet a girl while hiding out, I had no idea. But then again, Ben had never gone googly eyed or head over heels for anyone but London.

“Oh, Paris lives in her mama’s house with her husband and two little girls. They’re a real nice family.”

Paris was married. Good to know. “And Berlin?”

“Became an archaeologist and moved to the Keys, but she’s still here quite a bit. Married some hockey player or something I don’t understand. Why are there winter sports in Florida? I don’t get it! We have football and baseball for a reason.”

“Soccer, swimming, tennis…” I just started listing other non-winter sports.

But Trent spit on the dock. “The only sport that matters is baseball.”

“Whatever you say, old man. Whatever you say.”

“Mmmhmmm. Who writes your paychecks? It isn’t some hockey team.” He was chuckling now.

“Fair enough. And London?”

He grew quiet. “She doesn’t come home anymore. Left after high school. But she has a nice website about traveling the world that people seem to like reading. Olivia works with her sometimes.” He said that last part like he was sharing special information.

“Oh really?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me and asking Trent anything usually came with a very long story so instead I announced that it was time to throw the fish on the grill.

We ate quickly and Trent offered to bring the dishes into the kitchen before he begged off for his nightly card game at Mr. Willis’s house.

“Did you rinse off the dock?” Trent asked as he started down my crushed shell driveway.

“Crap. No I forgot.” I’d meant to go back while the fish were grilling but Trent got to talking about how the craft beer industry was all about money and I got distracted.

“Well you should do that. Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Trent. See you tomorrow.”

I shuffled down to the dock in time to see four pelicans take flight. At least